Cocky Senator's Daughter: Hannah Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 8)

by Faleena Hopkins

  "Exactly.”

  "I love it." On a deep chuckle he adds, "Good work, Jaimie! I have someone here, so let’s talk later tonight. Set it up for me."

  The line goes dead and I smile to myself, basking in his voiced appreciation while I write the schedule from each website’s event page so that I can organize a calendar. The conversation we just had is subconsciously replaying and it occurs to me for the first time that Justin is going to hate this.

  My pen freezes after I scrawl Macon, Georgia, and stare at the ink.

  This is where I’ll see him in person for the first time since the airport. He believes he doesn't know my name, when he does.

  Oh my God.

  Justin

  During the pinnacle of applause at Mercer University in Macon, I lean into the microphone to finish the speech with my campaign slogan’s proclamation, “Georgia needs new blood!” The students explode into cheers while their administration stands nearby, observing the scene with wary eyes. They’re from the old world and they like things the way they are. For the well-established, stirring things up is never welcome.

  But I don’t give a shit.

  I wave and step back from the podium to let Senator Rothdale compete with that. When I heard he’d be giving a speech after mine I was pissed off. But then I decided to use my anger as fuel. My speech was better for it.

  I can see from his eyes that my reception amongst brand new voters such as these kids, has thrown him. I don’t think he took me seriously until now.

  Like a seasoned veteran of success, he smiles and steps out to soak up the applause as if it's for him.

  Impressive…and annoying.

  I have no choice but to keep walking offstage…where I pause in confusion.

  What the hell is she doing here?

  It’s been weeks since that crazy flight from Boston, but she's the last person I've had sex with. That was partially from my busy schedule, but if someone held a gun to my head I would admit it's more than that. There were three nights since that sex-filled plane ride where I could've called someone from my list, but when I started to dial I stopped.

  What happened between me and this stunner who's staring at me with those smoky-charcoal eyes of hers, was way hotter than anything my list could've offered.

  My sexual appetite wasn’t craving what I knew would be mediocre sex. It was craving her, who I had no way of getting ahold of.

  And yet here she is.

  Well well well.

  I guess this is my lucky day.

  Smiling in surprise I walk up to her. She cuts me off before I can ask what she’s doing here.

  “Mr. Cocker, I’m Jaimie Rothdale. The Senator’s daughter and campaign organizer. It’s nice to meet you.”

  My mouth slackens in horror, and from habit alone I am able to shake her hand. I've been sucker punched in the nuts. Glancing over to the University’s faculty who are within earshot, I lick my lips and try to gather my sanity.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Did she plot that whole day to lure me in?

  Jaimie really was her name?

  And she’s just going to shake my hand with that cold fucking look on her face and act like we’ve just met?

  “It’s…nice to meet you, Ms. Rothdale.”

  “We enjoyed your speech.”

  I repeat under my breath, “Jaimie Rothdale. Jaimie Rothdale. Jaimie Rothdale,” while trying to unveil what’s hovering behind the edges of my memory. Her head tilts. Suddenly it hits me. “Did you go to high school with me, junior year?”

  Her eyes flicker with surprise. “I did.”

  “I remember you. It was well known that the Senator’s daughter had come to Atlanta. You kept to yourself, if memory serves. Sat next to me in Mr. Cooper's class. But you sure as hell didn't look like this." I give her a slow and deliberate toe to head inspection.

  Her face flushes, but she covers it with a feminist righteousness, which I wouldn’t mock…if it weren’t for her fucking me in a janitor’s closet. “My looks are not an appropriate topic, under the circumstances."

  On a low chuckle, I walk away from her, replying coolly, “No, I suppose they aren’t.”

  Growing more furious by the second, I grit my teeth all the way out into the sunlight, dying for some fresh air. Mindful of being watched I stare into the college parking lot, trying to get my head back on my neck.

  She lured me in, then sideswiped me.

  I know how it was in high school.

  I know how popular we were.

  When I told her my name at that airport bar, she knew exactly who I fucking was and she played dumb. “Shit,” I mutter, raking my hands through my hair.

  Even before it was announced to the public, people in Washington knew I wanted his seat in the Senate. Which means her father knew. And since she's organizing his campaign, that means she knew.

  She fucked me knowing I was about to be on the ballot.

  Was she trying to learn my strategies?

  Learn who I was so she could beat me?

  Or did she do it just to throw me off my game when we inevitably ran into each other again.

  Whatever it was it was brilliant.

  Diabolical and fucking brilliant.

  I hate her.

  Exhaling violently I walk back inside, straight up to her. She turns around with an unreadable expression. She's gorgeous, and lethal.

  "Nicely played, Jaimie.”

  "Excuse me?"

  Faking a smile so that anyone watching will think I'm saying nice things to her, I keep my volume private. "Don't play innocent. We both know you’re sly. I'm on to you now. I won't be made a fool of again.”

  Her lips part and my gaze drops to them remembering how often I made the mistake of kissing her. Behind me, on stage, her father's speech finishes but I can't hear what he’s saying. The fury inside of my chest is white-hot. As he approaches us I turn on my heel and head to the auditorium to do what I do best.

  So they think they can beat me?

  Fuck them.

  I'm going to charm the people.

  Stand back and watch me work.

  Jaimie

  “Look at him,” my father mutters.

  How can I stop? Justin Cocker has strolled with the confidence of thirty men into the departing assembly. College boys are clamoring to shake his hand because they want to be him. The girls are ridiculous in how blatantly they gawk, nearly wrestling each other to the ground to get to him first as if he were a rockstar rather than a politician. The way he’s working those kids! High-fiving some, somberly discussing topics with others as he’s accosted left and right.

  He is shining so brightly he glows.

  “Dad, go out there!” I hiss, grabbing my father’s arm.

  Balking, he tugs away. “I will not. This is not my audience. These voters are too young to realize what's going on in the world anyway. Let him charm them all he wants. I'm aiming for the older vote, for the people who actually show up to the polls. These kids won't be there."

  He strolls off with me staring after him.

  Turning back to the crowd I watch Justin make his way through it, shaking more hands. I am so hypnotized that as he glances to me from a distance, surrounded by admirers, I can’t look away.

  Our eyes are locked as my heart skips with anxiety. Justin's eyes narrow a moment and he turns away for me. I read his lips as he says to a young man, Can you repeat that? Unfazed the kid does and Justin lights up. I couldn't hear, but obviously the question touches on a subject that Justin cares about. He's really in his element out there, isn't he? He's meant to do this.

  I believe my father is wrong. These kids will show up at the polls. Their faces are eager. Justin Cocker has inspired them. Where they felt they didn't matter, that their vote meant nothing, they now feel empowered with a sense of possibility, maybe even hope, that someone in Washington will be admirable and will champion for them.

  Shaking my head, I turn to leave. My heels echo on the auditorium floors, m
aking me feel very lonely. As I open the back door and step into the sunlight, I hear heavy footsteps run up behind me. “Ms. Rothdale.”

  Reflexive goosebumps trickle down my back. His voice is familiar to me now in a way that will probably never disappear. He was inside of me once and my body will always remember that.

  I wash all emotion from my face as I turn around. “Mr. Cocker?”

  “If you think I’ll be easy to beat, you’re wrong.”

  “I do not think that at all. Quite the opposite.”

  He stares like he wants to say more. I feel a little dizzy being so close to him with this much anger directed at me. I'm about to tell him I didn't know he was going to run for senator.

  Before I open my mouth to confess that, he growls, "I wish I'd never met you,” and disappears back inside, leaving me reeling. My head starts to spin and I place a trembling hand over my heart, aching to go back in time.

  My father steps out of his limo in the distance, and calls my name. Feeling hollow I head to him with my head held high out of habit alone. He grumbles, "What did Cocker say to you?"

  "He's angry,” I whisper.

  "About what?"

  “That we piggybacked his event. He called me sly."

  With a proud smile my father guides me into his limousine. "And that you are. See, I told you I needed you."

  He climbs in, shuts the door and calls to his driver, “We’re ready now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With nothing to talk about we stare out opposite windows as the car pulls out of the parking lot.

  I wish I’d never met you.

  I wish I’d never met you.

  I wish I wasn’t so damn good at my job.

  Jaimie

  In Dublin, Georgia, the event has been extra entertaining – much more so than we would've thought thanks to a torrential downpour this evening.

  I've learned that often when it rains in this state there's no warning. I like this, but it does cause problems due to unpredictability. Tonight many in the audience didn't think to bring umbrellas, so the Civic Center is filled with a lot of wet-haired faces.

  Justin made them laugh by going outside and coming back drenched, announcing, "I'm in it with you."

  My father followed suit during his speech by taking a water bottle and pouring it over his own head in a very comical way. Since he is such a sophisticated and subdued man, the people loved it. I glanced over to Justin, curious to see his reaction and expecting him to be angry, but he was amused along with everyone else. Then he met my eyes and saw that I was looking at him, and his smile vanished.

  I have received the silent treatment for the last four events where we covered northern Georgia, always piggy-backing Justin.

  Try as I might I can't stop thinking about him as more than just our opponent. And I certainly don’t hate him as he does me. It’s been extraordinarily difficult because his inspiring speeches have only deepened my admiration for his ideas.

  I feel like a fraud supporting my father in this race. I believe that Justin would do the things he’s promising, or die trying. I plan on voting for him, which I will never tell anyone but God.

  Still, I’ve not slacked off in my service to my father. If anything, because of my guilt, I’ve worked harder. I want him to win because he’s my dad, not because he’s the best man for the job. And I would never sabotage him in any way. I believe that if he could just understand what the people need today, his mind might open.

  Because I haven’t given up hope, I’ve coached my dad to be more receptive and have more fun. That’s why he let loose his tie a bit with that water bottle stunt. He’s starting to enjoy himself. The audience is loving it.

  As the event comes to a close people gather around both men — asking questions, expressing concerns, and giving congratulations and support. I see a couple approaching Justin with a certain familiarity. I really should stop staring at him, but I'm curious who they are.

  Justin turns and explodes into the biggest smile, making my heart skip a beat. "Jake! Drew! I didn't know you were coming!"

  "You think I’d miss my badass brother kicking some serious tail?" They hug and slap each other's backs as my jaw drops.

  Jake Cocker. My goodness, he's sure grown into a hunk. They hardly look like brothers these two, with Jake having brown hair and eyes, his skin slightly olive. But their smiles are similar. The confidence is the same. Just like in high school, they both know how good they look.

  A wedding ring?

  I bet a lot of girls wept the day he got married.

  "Your parents just said hi to me," Justin smiles to Jake's wife. "You want to ask them to come and have a drink with us?"

  The pretty brunette laughs, and says in the thick Southern drawl, “My parents don't drink and they’re watching the kids, but after seeing you give that speech, if you ask them they might change their minds! You could probably talk anybody into anything."

  On a grin Justin tells her, “Not true! I couldn't talk you into choosing me over Jake.”

  Jake hits his brother’s chest. "You're never gonna let up are you? She's mine. Let it go."

  They're all kidding of course, the smiles big and genuine. The friendship is so apparent it makes me wish I could join them. Behind me my father walks up and put his hand on my shoulder. "You're frowning."

  “Am I? I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

  "A couple of my golfing buddies are here. We're going to get a drink. Would you like to join us?”

  I almost say yes, but I’ve had enough political debating for one night.

  "That's very sweet, but you and I both know that you'll have a much better time smoking your cigars without my complaining about the smell." I offer him a smile, clasp his bicep and add, "I think I'll just go back to the hotel and read.”

  He lays a warm hand over mine and smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast then." He disappears into the crowd, and I don't notice until it's too late that he took the umbrella with him.

  "Dammit,” I whisper as I open the door to leave. Look at that rain, wow. Deafening sheets whip through the air with drops so thick they look like hail. I should have asked him to have his driver drop me off. I have two long blocks to walk in this wet darkness.

  Crossing my arms I duck my head and start moving fast. With each hasty footstep I’m more and more drenched. Every article of clothing is sticking to my skin. My pumps are soaked, toes squishing inside them. So gross. If it were a warm night it wouldn't be so bad, but I'm freezing my ass off in this dress and insufficiently thin coat.

  A car slows on the street beside me and I glance over hoping it’s my father come to rescue me. The passenger window is rolled down on a black Audi, and Justin is staring at me from the driver’s seat.

  "Get in."

  He reaches over and pushes the door open as I run toward the car and duck inside. I try to wipe the wetness away from my face but since my hands are soaked and my hair is dripping, it's useless.

  "There are napkins in the glove compartment,” he grumbles.

  Glancing over to him I see his cheek ticking with tension. Pulling out a small stack of tan paper napkins I mutter, “Thank you.”

  We drive in silence as I blot my face and hair. It really is a lost cause, but I do what I can. When he pulls up to my hotel, in shock I blurt, "You know where I'm staying?"

  As the rain beats down he keeps his stare locked ahead. "I saw you last night.”

  "Are you staying here, too?"

  "No."

  Well, that's a mysterious answer…how did he see me, then? Was he looking?

  “I liked what you said in your speech, about mandating our homeless shelters implement a more dignified system. How you feel it will empower the people. I really liked that."

  He glances over and holds my eyes. "That wasn't entirely my idea.”

  “No?”

  “I read online about a shelter in Kansas City where the guy running it decided to present it as though it were a rest
aurant, calling the impoverished people who were forced to go there, guests. He gives them menu options, rather than slapping food on a tray. He puts out a sign reading Specials of the Day, and they order what they want at no charge. It gives them dignity to be able to choose and be a part of the process rather than just getting a handout. Not only that but everyone working the kitchen used to be on the other side. He gave them all jobs when he saw they wanted them. No one wants to be poor. They want to be useful. I did some research and discovered we have a long way to go in our shelters here. I want to take that man's ideas and make them common law and practice."

  Justin glances back to the windshield.

  Gazing at him, I whisper, “That would be really wonderful, Justin."

  "It would be good, yes."

  My body has started shivering from the cold and even though I don't want to, I have to reach for the door handle. "Thank you for the ride."

  Justin grabs my arm. "I’m very angry. When I look at you I can't even see straight sometimes, I'm so pissed.”

  I hold his eyes and confess, "It doesn't matter anyway because when it all comes down to it, you're trying to take my father’s job."

  Justin lets go of my arm and chuckles in a mean way. "Go clean yourself up, Jaimie.”

  Sincerely and without any sarcasm at all, I whisper, "Have fun tonight with Jake. Goodnight.”

  Opening the door I climb out and run through the rain to get inside quickly. As my heels click against the wet pavement I cringe realizing that I just revealed I was watching him, and eavesdropping on his conversation, too.

  Glancing over my shoulder I lock eyes with him and stop running, turning around to face him, helpless and unable to move from this spot. We stare at each other as the rain beats down on my head and body.

  He looks confused, almost like he doesn't want to drive away. My lips part to call out to him and invite him inside for some coffee or something stronger. Much much stronger. But he doesn’t give me the chance. He hits a button to roll the passenger window up and guns the engine, tires screeching and skidding until he disappears.