For the Record (Record #3)

by K. A. Linde

  Brady grabbed her face between his strong hands and brought her close to him. “If you must talk to him, then fine. I don’t like it. I’ll never like it, and I don’t want this to become a routine thing. I don’t want to have this argument again.”

  “I don’t want it to be routine either. I just want to get to the truth,” she said. Her eyes were locked on to his brown ones and she thought she was going to drown in that gaze.

  “I trust you,” he said, kissing her on the lips hard. “I’m going to have to tell Heather about this. So please report back as soon as your brief conversation is over.”

  “I will.” He started walking toward the door, but she reached out for him. “I’m sorry that it’s this way.”

  “Do I get you forever?” he asked, his words as smooth as silk.

  The words caught her off guard. They had never talked about forever. They had never really talked about anything until he had asked her to move in with him.

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “Then it’s worth it.” He kissed her again before leaving. She was left to wade in the lingering ecstasy of his lips on hers and the whispered promise of forever.

  With a sigh, Liz found her phone and hesitantly dialed Hayden’s phone number.

  “Hello?” he answered. He sounded both shocked and tentative, like he didn’t know why she would be calling.

  “Hey, Hayden.”

  “Is . . . something wrong?”

  “No. Well, not exactly,” she said softly.

  The silence hung between them, thick with the breakdown of their failed relationship. She knew that she needed to say something, but she felt as if her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  “As much as I enjoy hearing from you, I am curious as to your reasoning,” Hayden said. “I assume you have a motive?”

  “Did you set me up?” Liz gasped out. “With the pictures.”

  “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean did you plant a photographer to get pictures of us in the paper?”

  “Are you joking?” Hayden sputtered.

  “You need to be honest with me here. If this is all true, then we’re going to have serious issues. I don’t know what your motive is, but it’s not going to work. I just need you to tell me the truth.”

  “I’ve never lied to you before, Liz,” he said. “I would never plant a photographer. I was there to apologize, not to try to break up your relationship. Guess my message was lost on you.”

  “I’m serious, Hayden!”

  “So am I! I don’t know who took those pictures. I’m sorry that they were in the paper, but I had absolutely nothing to do with that. Why are you asking me now anyway? That happened two weeks ago,” Hayden demanded. “Wait . . . do you know who took the pictures? Is that why you’re accusing me?”

  Shit! He knew her too well.

  “Should I even hazard a guess, since you’ve come to me to ask about it?” Hayden said dryly. “I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but who had a personal vendetta against the subject and would know I was going to be in Chapel Hill?”

  Liz held her breath. He was too smart for his own good. Not that it was doing any harm at the moment. He hadn’t known that Calleigh was involved. It was clear in his voice. Crystal clear. And now he actually sounded pissed.

  “Calleigh, huh?” Hayden guessed.

  “I can neither confirm nor deny . . .”

  “Oh, don’t go all reporter on me now, Liz. I taught you everything you know.”

  “Not everything,” she spat.

  “Fine. Not everything,” he said awkwardly. “Calleigh stalked me when she knew that I was coming to visit. I’d really like to know what she’s up to.”

  “Wouldn’t we all.”

  “It’s probably good that I work on the inside then, huh?”

  “What do you mean?” She didn’t even know why she was continuing this conversation, but something had changed in Hayden when everything had snapped into place for him. He sounded more like himself—driven, ambitious, dedicated to the truth. She hadn’t seen this person in a long time.

  “She’s taking this personally because I chose you, Liz,” he said tenderly. “I just . . . think that maybe I could keep an eye on her.”

  “And why would you do that?” She wanted his intentions out in the open loud and clear.

  “Partly because she’s messing with people I care about, partly because she stalked me, and partly . . . because she got her promotion over me.”

  “The promotion for uncovering that I was Sandy Carmichael? God, she’s such a bitch!”

  Hayden laughed. “She sure has her moments.”

  “Every moment,” she grumbled. “Well, I should probably go. I just . . . I guess I’m glad I called.”

  “Here to help. If I see anything strange, I’ll just shoot you a text or something.” He sighed as if he were contemplating saying more and then decided against it.

  “Thanks, Hayden,” she whispered, and then said good-bye before hanging up.

  Knowing that Hayden wasn’t involved in Calleigh’s sinister plots made Liz feel as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Their conversation actually felt, if she dared to consider it, normal—or as normal as it was ever going to get with Hayden.

  Chapter 20

  THE KICKOFF

  A few days later on the afternoon before Brady’s kickoff rally for his reelection effort, Liz and Brady lounged around their apartment in D.C. She had started calling it their apartment after Brady had reminded her over and over that they shared it now and it didn’t just belong to him. If she was living here, then it was theirs. That was all that mattered.

  They would be flying out the next morning into Raleigh. Liz was nervous about her first official event at Brady’s side. She had been to dozens of political events as a reporter. She had even been to a number with Brady in D.C., but the campaign trail was a whole different story.

  She was worried about keeping up with her life while Brady was on the campaign trail. She had recently received her acceptance letter to Maryland for the fall term, which she was ecstatic about, since that was her top choice. Not to mention it was within the D.C. metro area, which kept her close to Brady while she focused on school. She had liked that they could be closer, but if he was gone through the November election she might still miss him a lot.

  Plus she was concerned about keeping up with her writing. She had just turned in her follow-up piece to the online paper, and after glowing compliments from Justin, she had started posting more articles to his blog.

  In fact, she had begun spending a lot of her free time on the computer, interacting with people who were now following what she considered her blog. Even if it was about YouTube movie ratings and other popular culture–related themes, she was the one writing the articles, and she liked talking to the people who enjoyed her pieces. It was a different level of personal involvement than she had ever had in journalism.

  She was scrolling through the comments on the website as Brady practiced his speech for tomorrow. She had heard him reciting it to himself in the mirror the past couple of days. Actually, she could probably recite chunks of it back to him at this point.

  “What do you think of that line?” Brady asked suddenly.

  “Hmm?” Liz looked up from her computer. “Which one?”

  “This one,” he said. “ ‘I personally believe that working for the people in Congress has been the most memorable experience of my life.’ ” He dropped the paper on the table. “Do you think that sounds too high school yearbook?”

  Liz laughed. “No. I think that sounds fine as long as you deliver it with your normal charisma. But if you’re asking my opinion, I think the stuff about Chris and staying to work in North Carolina is kind of repetitive, especially from last term.”

  “Yeah? I thought the
consistency worked well.”

  She shut her laptop and snatched the speech from the coffee table. She skimmed the section she was talking about before continuing. “Okay. I see what you mean—it does have the consistency factor—but tomorrow is going to be people who know you and probably primarily people who have seen your stuff from two years ago. They support you no matter what, but you want to fire them up, right?”

  A smile lit up Brady’s face when she glanced up at him. “Right.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just keep going,” he encouraged.

  “So, I think you’re missing that. You talk about why you decided to work here and why the state is important to you, and used a personal example to drive it home. It’s a clever trick to get people to empathize with you.”

  “I didn’t realize you had dissected my speeches so completely.” Brady walked around the table and took the seat next to her. He crossed one leg over the other and draped an arm across the back. He managed to look completely engrossed in what she was saying and totally laid-back. She swore they taught politicians how to do this.

  “I’ve seen all of your speeches. When I did research on you two summers ago, I watched the ones from your State Senate races. Your father basically invented the formula. It works. Very effective. But I think you’re missing your pull here. You’re not convincing these people to vote for you. They already will. You’re convincing them to essentially work for you, whether through time or money.”

  “All right. I see your point. What would you suggest?” he asked, leaning forward and brushing a loose lock of hair from her face. He ran his hand down her jawline and stared at her so intensely that she found it hard to get out her next comment.

  She was actually directing one of his speeches. A speech that he’d had a professional speechwriter work on for him. Someone who knew him and had likely been on staff for years. Oh, well, she couldn’t back down now.

  “I’d focus on what keeps people motivated, not what motivated you to begin with. What continues to keep you motivated? Your work in the education committee, fulfilling your commitment to the Research Triangle, bringing back money to support education. I’d focus on that from a fulfillment aspect, not an issue aspect, and then bring it home with a personal example . . . perhaps a political colloquium you attended while in office.” She laughed softly, though she thought it might be a good idea, since the colloquium had been a way to show his dedication to the people and the university system that was so important to his district. “There are other examples that you could use; that was just my suggestion.”

  “You know, you’re pretty brilliant, baby.” He dropped his mouth onto hers and she forgot everything they had been talking about. They moved in perfect unison, his hands tangling in her hair, their tongues volleying for position. Everything slowed to that moment and she reveled in the feel of her handsome, successful boyfriend finding her to be the brilliant one.

  They arrived in a town car to the side entrance of the rally point. The event wasn’t nearly as big as the Fourth of July event she had attended two summers ago, but it still boasted a relatively large stage, with a crowd pressing in. Liz could see the flashes of the press anxious to nab a picture of Brady . . . maybe even to a get a picture of her.

  Their relationship was hardly a secret, but they had an unwritten rule to avoid press as much as they could. On the campaign trail, there would be no avoiding them. The worst of their relationship woes had passed, but they were still a story, especially now that Brady was running for reelection. D.C. was the Hollywood of politics, and Brady was their fresh young star.

  Liz had already read articles recently about their moving in together. They hadn’t been secretive about that, but still, it was strange to see it online. She had wanted to claw her eyes out when she read the comments. Slut, whore, gold digger, and home wrecker were the nicest things she was called. Apparently they were also rushing into things because she was pregnant, and she and Brady were going to have a shotgun wedding in a few weeks to try to cover it up. Not to mention Brady felt bad for her and was using their relationship to hide his other rampant affairs. The Internet was a really pleasant place.

  She had confessed to Brady about it when he found her upset over the comments one afternoon.

  “You cannot let people make you feel like this. Are any of those things true?” he had asked.

  “No,” she had whispered.

  “Then don’t even bother yourself with them. There is a certain level of discretion you have to learn. When you’re in the public eye, you have to actively choose to ignore and avoid things like this. Nothing good comes from it.”

  So she had stopped looking. She didn’t think that she was strong enough to build up a complete resistance to it, but it was a start. Her journalism background made her naturally curious, which wasn’t helpful in this situation.

  Their car came to a stop and Brady exited first. She followed him into the sea of reporters. His hand reaching out for her and guiding her through the crowd was the only thing keeping her steady. She didn’t duck her head and hide from the cameras as she would have four months ago, but it still unnerved her.

  When they reached the roped-off area where she and Brady would wait along with much of his staff, Liz let out a sigh of relief. It was still strange that reporters made her so uneasy when she had always wanted to be one. She tried to brush off the encounter and focus on what was going on around her.

  Heather was speaking swiftly to the reporters on the other side of the roped-in area. Liz had seen these conversations before, usually to talk about interviews, spotlight segments, Q&A time, and more. Elliott was on his phone, talking animatedly to whoever had his attention. Alex, Brady’s campaign manager, was sitting at a nearby table lost to his computer. He was all strategy and planning and not usually the person in the field.

  And then there was Brady, her Brady, going over last-minute details of his speech with the speechwriter. Liz had rewritten some of Brady’s speech to show him more what she was talking about. To her surprise he had taken it to his speechwriter and they had agreed to keep it. Her own words in one of Brady’s speeches! She had felt a tingle shoot through her at the prospect of him reciting her words to his captivated audience.

  She could feel a buzz of excitement running through everyone in the vicinity. This was the big leagues. This was what it was all about. The start of everything Brady was working toward. She peered out at the crowd and was staggered to see that the tent that was erected for the event was full of people.

  Then she heard it. Max-well. Max-well. Max-well.

  Her breath caught as the cheer started off quiet and then slowly began to rise as more and more people picked up the chant. Soon the sound of Brady’s name was deafening, taking over the rally space.

  She glanced over at him and he was smiling brightly. She saw it for what it was. He lived for this. Born and bred to be the magnificent person he was, to crave the spotlight and people cheering his name, to mold the country for the people. And he was hers.

  “All right,” Heather snapped, walking back over to them. “Are you ready?”

  “Born ready,” Brady said confidently.

  “Of course you were. Now let this crescendo and then make your entrance. Afterward I’ve arranged a few interviews, then a quick meeting with some donors, and a dinner with Chelsea about that fracking thing she keeps shoving down your throat.”

  “Chelsea, really?” he asked. “Can’t that wait?”

  “They’re sending a ton of money our way trying to sway your vote on that. You have to meet with her.”

  “Who is Chelsea?” Liz interrupted.

  Heather barely gave her a passing glance. “After that you’re free for the night, but tomorrow morning we have a photo op with the mayor.”

  “Sounds good, Heather,” he said in a dismissive tone. Heather gave him a pointed look and then wa
lked over to stand by Elliott. Brady turned back to face Liz. “Chelsea works for an environmental lobbying firm that’s trying to get me to make a statement about fracking in the North Carolina Mountains. They’re huge supporters, so I can’t ignore them. So we have dinner plans.”

  “We?” Liz asked, surprised.

  “Of course. You’re part of my life. You’ll entertain at my side.” He swept her up in his arms and kissed her briefly on the mouth. “Now I have to charm the crowd as much as I did you.”

  “Let’s hope you use different tactics,” she said breathlessly.

  He popped one more kiss on her mouth and smirked. His campaign mask slid easily into place, all charm and charisma with an underlying arrogance that no one could ignore, and just a touch of something that inherently drew people to him. Brady had it all.

  “Good luck,” she whispered.

  “Don’t need it, baby. I’ve got you.”

  With that Brady turned and sauntered up the small set of stairs and onto the stage as though he owned it. The chant turned into uproarious applause as his followers extolled his very presence. She moved next to Heather on the side of the stage to watch him deliver the speech he had been working on all week.

  Heather stood with her arms crossed and her mouth set in a straight line. Liz wondered what it must be like for her—always worrying about every minute detail related to Brady and the campaign and never having a moment to truly enjoy it. She and Heather were on bad terms, but that didn’t mean that Liz didn’t understand where Heather was coming from, especially after Brady had told her more about how they had started working together.

  Liz was jarred from her thoughts as Brady’s smooth voice filled the speakers. “Welcome!” he cheered.

  The crowd went crazy, screaming, clapping, and throwing Maxwell banners into the air.

  “It’s good to be back home, Raleigh. Good to be back with the good people of North Carolina and every single one of my supporters here!”

  Liz felt herself relaxing into his speech. She had heard it dozens of times this week and almost knew it by heart. She would never be comfortable enough to give a speech in front of dozens of people, but Brady was a natural. He commanded attention. Each time his eyes were cast out on the crowd it was as if he were speaking directly to every individual in the audience.