by Holley Trent
“See Rick!” Her voice was jubilant as she turned to their father’s closest aide and campaign manager and stabbed her index finger in his general direction. “He doesn’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“I rarely know what you’re talking about so that’s a poor debate point. What’s going on now?”
She rolled her brown eyes yet again and flipped her long, straight hair from one naked shoulder over to the other.
The gesture made thoughts of Mandy, whom he’d been trying his damnedest to forget about all evening, crowd out every other. When Mandy flipped her hair, she had a sort of casual elegance that indicated she didn’t really care if she was being watched; the flip was a factor of utility. Elly’s flips were all about the attention. Then again, most everything about Elly was about attention.
She was chaos bound together by skin and bone, and the thorn in their father’s side. It was because of her love affair with the press that Aaron couldn’t date without scrutiny. She liked her men to come with their own measure of notoriety: movie stars, rock musicians, athletes, wealthy heirs, and so on. The more issues they had, the better she liked them. She seemed to thrive on controversy and getting her to keep her mouth shut whenever a reporter shoved a microphone into her face was an impossible task. With all the interest in the pretty blonde whose father might be president in a few years, Aaron was collateral damage.
“The article in OK! about my last overseas trip. Rick says it’s scandalizing and embarrassing. Isn’t that what you said, Rick?” Elly broke off a piece of her roll and threw it at him.
“It is!” Rick barked, color flooding his cheeks as he swatted the bread away.
Aaron blew out a breath and pushed his hair behind his ears.
Rick and Elly had the same damn argument every dinner he was in attendance for, which was part of the reason he avoided them. When would the man learn to give it up? Rick would have made more headway thrashing his face against a concrete wall.
“What were you doing in the pictures?” Aaron asked, voice weary.
Elly shrugged and flaked her salmon with her fork.
His mouth watered. Compared to the veg-something on his plate he hadn’t been able to identify, the fish looked like the gateway to Shangri-La. It was as if he’d offended the chef, somehow, although for the life of him he couldn’t imagine when it’d been. Never once had he had a palatable entrée at the executive mansion although everyone else seemed to be doing just fine. The way Aaron figured it, food should be edible, whether it had once breathed or not.
“Kissing some ambassador’s son,” Elly continued. “I don’t even know his name.” Her lips twitched at the corners.
Mom, at the other end of the table, sighed loudly. When Aaron looked down the table, he saw she’d buried her face in her hands.
Rick pounded the tabletop. “Carter Patel, for Chrissake!” He leaned sideways to spot Aaron around the large floral centerpiece. “Help me out here, Aaron. You’ve got to do something — find her some couth; I don’t care if you have to buy it. At the rate she’s going, your father won’t be nominated by his own party for re-election! Who would want to nominate someone who can’t keep a leash on his own kid?”
Aaron gritted his teeth and turned knots in the cloth napkin he held beneath the table. Leash, huh? He counted to five in his head before speaking.
“Rick, she’s twenty-three. Hardly a child. She has a college degree, even. If she wants to tart around, it’s really not my problem. Nor is it yours.”
Elly balked. “I’m not a tart!”
“Kiddo, I know you’re not. That’s the perception, and perception is everything in politics. Not reality. I know you’re an incorrigible flirt, but I imagine most people don’t see your serial dating in the same light as folks who know you.”
“Listen to your brother, Elly, if not Rick.” That was from Mom, who was already halfway into her third glass of muscadine wine. She’d grumbled when she had the kitchen staff open the cloyingly sweet stuff, but some Piedmont-area chamber of commerce had forwarded it to her and they had a tendency to follow up on that kind of thing. She needed an opinion other than, “It made me drunk. I liked it.” So, she was trying to formulate an opinion, one bottle at a time.
Elly used her lips in the best impersonation of a motorboat Aaron had heard since elementary school. “As if! I’m not going to cloister myself just because Dad is holding office. No one asked me what I thought before he decided to drop his name into the hat. I’m not going to hide out and play pretend. My sorority sisters think this is a goddamned riot.”
Dad set down his fork and knife and knit his brows. “Language, Elly!”
Aaron’s thoughts darted to Mandy, the woman whose swearing was so fluent she could make a bawdy sea shanty sound like a lullaby. He wanted to smack himself for that lame-ass attempt at a conversation he’d initiated earlier over the phone. All his charm seemed to evaporate when she was the object of his attention. She must have thought he was some kind of boorish dolt, coming onto her the way he had.
Elly swirled her eyes around in their sockets once more and swatted a hand toward the end of the table. “Oh, come off it, Dad. I was an adult when you ran for this ticket and I was scared enough of you then that I stayed out of public view until you were safely inaugurated. Well, I’m twenty-three, Guv’nor. I’m a college graduate. I can do what I want.” She did a little dance in her seat that actually made Aaron laugh.
She’s fearless. I’ll give her that.
When Mom shot a glare in his direction, he cleared his throat and focused on his … well, he didn’t know what it was on his plate, but he looked at it.
Rick scoffed. “An unemployed college graduate. Who do you think finances all those trips and escapades you like to go on with your sorority sisters, huh?”
“That’s a good point, Rick.” Dad returned his attention to his dinner and speared a floret of broccoli with his fork.
Aaron growled, both from hunger and annoyance. Why the Hell don’t I have broccoli?
He was nearly salivating over his father’s manipulation of the vegetables on his plate when his mother’s fingertips drumming against the tabletop pulled his focus away.
She cocked her head to the side and gave him a blank expression he pretended not to see.
“I’m cutting you off until you shape up, Elly. No more allowance,” Dad said.
Aaron scoffed. Between Elly’s trust fund and what she had in savings, she’d hardly go hungry. She wouldn’t even have to nick her manicure clipping coupons. It was the same reason he managed to get by while his CTW salary was just a hair over minimum wage.
“Furthermore, consider your car repossessed until further notice.”
That got her attention, and Aaron’s, too. She peeled her upper lip back into a sneer and threw her linen napkin in Dad’s direction.
“What the Hell do you expect me to do? Take the bus around Raleigh? Yeah. Right. I’ll just buy a new one.”
Dad kept eating, obviously unmoved. “Maybe you should take the bus. You’d learn something about the people I serve.”
“Right, the people you serve, Daddy. I’m one of them — a goddamned constituent, and as of right now, you wouldn’t get my vote. I’m not trying to ride your coattails. I don’t give a hot damn about politics. In fact, I don’t even care that much about North Carolina.” She tossed her napkin onto the table and studied her nails. “I’m moving back to Europe.”
“Great, you do that. When’s the last time you saw your license and passport?”
Elly’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“It means,” Rick volunteered, “I confiscated your travel documents last week.”
Her face flushed like the ripe muscadines used in Mom’s wine. She clamped her jaw, stuck out her lips, and gripped the edge of the table. When she stood and yanked at the tab
lecloth, nearly half of the dishes on her side crashed to the floor. “You were going through my things? My purse? My apartment?”
Aaron whistled low and placed his utensils on the table before standing. He figured he should get home to ensure his own private documents hadn’t been riffled through.
“Where are you going, Aaron?” Dad didn’t even look up from his pilaf.
Why didn’t I get pilaf?
“I’m going home. Don’t drag me into this shit. I behave for the cameras, and you have no idea what I give up to do so.”
Things like Mandy.
“Don’t sling Elly’s problems onto me, too. I’ve got enough frustrations of my own.”
Dad remained nonplussed. “If I’m not mistaken, isn’t Cars to Work funded at least in part by a state grant?”
Mom buried her face into her hands again and groaned. “Oh, don’t go there, Charles.”
Aaron cracked his knuckles and let his fists fall to his sides. “I applied for that grant the same way everyone else had to. I filled out all the goddamned forms, submitted all the verifying documents, waited months for an answer just like everyone else. I didn’t get any special treatment. You had nothing to do with it.”
Dad reached for his highball glass. “That may be so. Still, it’d be a shame if you suddenly became ineligible next year, especially when you’re in the midst of expanding.”
Aaron laughed and shook his head, disbelieving. “You see this, Mom? This is exactly why I don’t dick around in politics, and the next time some reporter asks me about my ambitions, I’m going to tell them exactly that. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on. After a while, you’ll do whatever you need, con whomever you need to get your way — even in your private life. I don’t want to be that kind of person. So, do what you have to do, Dad. And also? Fuck you very much.”
He had made it all the way out to his SUV and had his key in the ignition when he looked up into the rearview mirror to find Mom dragging Elly out by the arm. He locked the doors and started the engine. Mom ran up to his door and knocked on the glass. He motored down the window.
“What?”
“First of all, shame on you for talking to your father like that. Second, please take Elly with you.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry for the language. But, no.”
He mashed the button to put the glass back up.
“Aaron! Please. Just for a few days while I deal with this mess.”
He took his finger off the button. “Mom, I really can’t. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t. I have to be back out in Chowan early tomorrow morning. I have work to do. Meetings to attend. I don’t have time to babysit. Besides, last I checked, Elly was a grown-ass woman.”
“Aaron, I need you to be the big brother again. Take her! Keep her in the car if you have to.”
Elly’s jaw dropped. “I’m not a puppy!”
Mom gave Elly a silencing pinch of the forearm. “For God’s sake, Aaron. Have some mercy.”
He dug his pen out of his back pocket and spun it between his fingers. “Why? Why is this so important all of a sudden?”
She closed her eyes and held in a breath for a long while. When she opened her eyes again, he realized they were bloodshot. What’d been going on in the Owen household?
“I know this is hard for both of you, being under the microscope like this. You didn’t ask for it.”
“Quit beating around the bush, Mom. What kind of trouble is Elly in this time? Did she smuggle antiquities out of a foreign country again?”
“That was an accident!” Elly squeaked.
“Nothing like that. Please, just keep her under the radar for a couple of days. Maybe head back to the beach house?”
“No way. There are cameras there now, did you know that? Hope Dad enjoyed me sitting on my ass watching G4 all last week. I bet it was a good show.”
“Damn it, I didn’t know that.” She slumped. “Look, it doesn’t matter where, just take her until your aunt can collect her in Southport.”
“Collect her? What the Hell is going on here?”
Mom put up a shaking hand. “Please stop asking questions.”
He studied her face — its worried lines and the tiredness in her eyes — and blew out a breath. Whatever it was she was contending with, she didn’t deserve it. Her life had been turned upside down by the governor’s ambitions, too. She was a quiet woman who’d grown up the daughter of a Methodist minister father and a fabric shop owner mother. He knew this wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself.
“Yeah.” He toggled the locks.
Mom yanked the back door open, tossed her sullen offspring into the backseat, and flicked a credit card at him.
He flicked it back. “I don’t need that.”
She tossed it back through the window and took two steps back. “Take it. I know what you pay yourself.” She walked around to the other side of the car and opened that door to toss the plain black backpack she’d been wearing into the footwell behind the passenger seat. After slamming the door, she set off for the back door of the mansion without looking back.
He watched Elly yank on the door handle on one side then the other to no avail.
“Goddamn it, she put the child safety locks on.”
CHAPTER 7
“Aaron, you can’t just leave the poor girl in the car like that. It’s hot as shhh-sugar outside.” Mandy cut her eyes toward Mike, but he was too busy entertaining the jailed Elly through the back window of the SUV to pay attention to her. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And thanks for not ratting me out to Mike.”
Aaron looked affronted. “Hey, I’m no snitch!” He spread on that smile that made Mandy fear for the structural integrity of her panty elastic.
She swallowed down the boulder-sized lump forming in her throat, only to feel her stomach revolt at the sudden addition of a heaping handful of fresh nerves. The man cleaned up good, and it affected her. It affected her a lot. Maybe it was her clothing store background, but a man who knew how to buy slacks that actually fit really turned her on. The fact he actually had an ass didn’t hurt, either. It was far more evident in his belted black slacks than it’d been in the baggy shorts he’d worn the day before, although she did recall there being a bit of flesh there when she’d squeezed. She ran her tongue over her lips involuntarily before catching herself.
He mirrored the act and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head to fix his hazel gaze on her.
She suddenly felt a bit faint, and walked away fanning her face with her hands. Retreating was cowardly, but she didn’t care. Her pride was at stake and she was being sucked into a goddamned black hole of charisma. She made a beeline for a station wagon three rows over and squatted down next to the back tire on the far side, putting her head between her knees before commencing with a deep breathing exercise.
He’s not for you. Don’t touch him. He’s not for you. Don’t touch him.
She kept repeating the mantra in her mind, over and over again until she was reasonably certain she could deflect his charms. When she stood, he was still leaning against the front of his SUV, looking in her direction with an eyebrow cocked.
Well, get on with it.
She waved him over. It was as good a time as any.
“This car came in from an auction yesterday,” she said, trying for a confident tone, but sounding like a clarinet with a bad vibrato.
He grunted and bent down to stare into the window. “What can you tell me about it?”
She cleared her throat and felt her blood pressure ebb. As long as they kept the conversation on business, she could deal. “Not a damn thing other than the fact it’s a Volvo.”
“Hey, that’s a lot.”
“Liar.” She folded her arms over her breasts as he stood and smiled at her.
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br /> Don’t touch him. He’s not for you!
“I told you I’m hopeless with cars.” She backed up a few paces toward the trunk to get out of his field of gravity. “I can’t tell one model year apart from another if they’re within five years.”
“It’s okay. You’re cute when you’re hopeless.”
Her cheeks burned. He just had to go there. “Only when I’m hopeless, huh?”
He lifted his broad shoulders in a dramatic shrug and made his grin even broader. “Drive it?”
“Absolutely,” she said, glad for the distraction.
He caught the key she tossed at him and shifted the front seat back to accommodate his long legs. “Same place as yesterday?” His eyes cast downward to the low v-neck of her dress.
She worked her lips from one side of her face to the other and stole a glance over to the trailer. Archie was at his window again. She gave him a little wave. Archie shook his head and walked away.
“Why, think you need to test the struts?”
“Yeah, your struts.”
“You don’t hash words, do you?”
He shrugged. “We know where this is going.”
“We’re going to drive down Highway 17 so you can put some stress on the engine of this grocery-getter.”
“That’s all, huh?”
She closed his door and harrumphed before walking around the hood of the car.
So many mixed signals. Does he want to employ me or lay me? He can’t have both, can he?
She pondered that while pulling open the front passenger door. Was there a law against fraternization or did management types just strongly recommend against it? She’d never encountered the situation when she was at Ermine’s. As far as she could tell, none of the staff had been that kind of friendly to each other. She certainly didn’t get on like that with the store’s co-general manager. He was a married man with two grown kids and a pack-a-day smoking habit that made his hands smell like an ashtray.
She took one more peek at the office window and found Archie’s distended belly pressed against it. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was wearing a scowl that could cut glass. She opted out of stoking the angry bull’s temper for once, and just got into the passenger seat of the car.