The Best of All

by Vanessa Miller

  Surry jumped out of the tub, remembering to blow out the candles as she towel-dried. Wrapping the towel around herself, she went back into her living quarters and began making preparations for her evening with Ian. It was five-twenty. So she had less than an hour to find an outfit, work on beautifying her face and decide if she would be wearing her hair up or down.

  Looking over her wardrobe, Surry decided she wanted to wear a pants suit tonight. And she knew the exact one. The pants were a solid purple with straight legs. But the jacket was the thing that gave this outfit sparkle. It was multicolored with purple serving as the base color. However, black and gold was sprinkled all over the jacket in abstract fashion. The jacket was formfitting from the shoulders to the belly button. But at the point of the waist, the jacket flared all the way down to the upper thigh. It was gorgeous and Surry knew she looked good in it.

  Surry put on moisturizer and makeup and decided on an updo for her hair. She then put on her outfit and sat down on the couch, turned on the television and waited for Ian to knock on her door. Glancing at her watch, she noticed that it was now five minutes after six. She expected her men to be punctual when picking her up. But Ian had a lot on his mind when he dropped her off today, so she would let his tardiness slide this time.

  * * *

  “Hit me again,” Ian commanded the bartender.

  The bartender poured more scotch into Ian’s glass and attempted to walk away. Ian grabbed the man’s arm and said, “Leave the bottle.”

  The bartender gave Ian the once-over. “Haven’t I already filled your glass three times?”

  Ian leaned back in his seat, pulled out his wallet and handed the bartender a hundred. “Leave the bottle,” Ian commanded again.

  The bartender hesitated. “Will you need me to call you a cab when you get ready to leave?”

  Ian pointed upward. “I’m staying upstairs, so as long as I remain steady on my feet, I won’t be needing any help.”

  Nodding, the bartender left the bottle next to Ian’s glass as he put his Benjamin in his pocket and moved down the length of the bar.

  Ian wasn’t feeling so good about the way this day had turned out for him. He had been riding high on hopes and dreams, believing that everything was turning out just the way he planned it—although it wasn’t how he’d planned it, because Ian never expected to run a presidential campaign so soon. He had already mapped out his career, and the way Ian saw it was that after he managed to get more positive press and more candidates elected, then he would be set to handle the next presidential campaign.

  So he should have known something was fishy when Governor Monroe seemed to want him above all others. He gulped down his scotch and filled his cup again.

  His cell phone beeped, letting him know that he’d just received a text message. He took his phone off the clip, preparing to check his text message, when a woman came up to him and asked if he had a light. “Don’t you know that smoking is bad for your health?”

  She pointed at the bottle. “Probably as unhealthy as drinking like a fish.”

  Ian laughed. “You might have a point there.” He lifted his bottle. “Care to take some of this off my hands?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” She sat down. “I’m Peaches, by the way.”

  Ian looked at the woman. He thought Peaches was an odd name for a woman who had to be in her mid-fifties. But who was he to judge? If she wanted to be Peaches, then Peaches it was. “I’m Iaaaaan.” His words were slurred and running together.

  Peaches lifted a hand for the bartender. When she got his attention, she said, “Glass, please.”

  Ian poured a drink in the glass the bartender set in front of Peaches and then asked, “Are you here on business?”

  “Yes, but my business partner and I handled our last meeting a few hours ago. I’m just waiting for her to get dressed so we can check out the nightlife in this city.”

  Ian was leaning over in his seat as he slurred, “Sometimes that nightlife is bad for your health, too.”

  Peaches giggled as she helped Ian sit back up straight. “You’re a cute drunk, but I hope you’re not driving away from here.”

  “Why is everybody so worried about me?” He pulled out the Hilton card key. “I’m right upstairs, so I won’t be let loose on the road with innocent bystanders.”

  “Thank God,” Peaches said.

  Ian’s phone beeped again. As he reached for it and read the text, his face contorted in shame.

  “Forgot to be somewhere?” Peaches asked. “My ex-husband was an alcoholic. I spent a lot of time texting him and reminding him about events we needed to be at. Somehow he still managed to miss about half of the events, including our anniversary.”

  “I’m not that kind of man,” Ian declared.

  “Prove it.” Peaches pointed at his cell phone. “Put that woman out of her misery and go handle your business.”

  “I don’t know if she’ll forgive me. I missed our date.” Ian poured another drink and gulped it down. It burned his throat, but he shook it off.

  “So you’re just going to sit here and keep drinking. Careful, you’re going to end up being an ex, just like my ex-husband.”

  Ian stood, wobbled and then held on to the chair. “Well, lady, I’m n-not y-your ex-husband, and I’m not a drunk.” He handed her the rest of his scotch. “You and your friend enjoy the rest on me.” He then turned and headed upstairs to try to make amends for what he’d done.

  * * *

  Surry was worried out of her mind. Why had she let Ian drive off in the condition he’d been in earlier? She’d seen how disturbed Ian had been at running into his father, and he had a headache when he left. She should have offered to drive him around or something. At least that way she wouldn’t be worried that he’d gotten hurt in an accident.

  She’d already texted him twice and received no answer. That didn’t seem like Ian, so Surry was pacing the floor, ringing her hands. Her heart was in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Ian being in danger.

  She turned on the television and found a local news station. It was eight-thirty at night, but this station ran all day long. She watched and listened for a few minutes, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t hear Ian Duncan’s name as an accident or homicide victim.

  After about fifteen minutes of news coverage, Surry remembered that Ian’s father was staying at the Ritz. She decided to go over there to find out if he’d seen or heard from Ian. Maybe he would help her look for his son. She took off her outfit and changed into a simple black jogging suit and a pair of boots. She rushed to the door and swung it open.

  Ian practically fell on her. She stepped back, holding him at arm’s length as he waved at her like an idiot. “Hey, Surry.”

  She caught a whiff of his breath, put her index finger against her nostril and said, “You’re drunk.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? I had a couple of drinks. That’s all.” Ian wobbled into her room and plopped down on her couch. He then looked up and gave her outfit the once-over. “You’re going to dinner in a jogging suit?”

  She wanted to strangle him. Nobody, not friend or foe, had ever stood her up or kept her waiting for over two hours and then showed up on her doorstep as if nothing was wrong, when it was obvious where he’d spent his time.

  She closed the door and with hands on hips strutted over to him. She wanted answers. How in the world had a man she believed to be perfect pulled such a stunt on her? Had this been his plan all along...to make her want to be with him to the point that her heart was aching, and then abuse her by being so insensitive as to show up for a dinner date two hours late and full of booze? “You have a lot of nerve, Ian Duncan. What you have done tonight is inexcusable.”

  Ian didn’t respond. He just kept his head low.

  “I was so worried. I thought you’d been in an
accident or something since you didn’t even have the decency to respond to any of my text messages.” Surry was practically shouting as she glared at him. The thing that was making her even angrier was that he wouldn’t say anything back to her. He wasn’t acting like her Ian. What was wrong with him? “Say something!” she shouted.

  Ian slowly lifted his head. His eyes held so much sadness that it caught Surry off guard. He looked as if the world had just crashed down around him. In that instant she knew that something life-altering had occurred in Ian’s world.

  “I don’t know what to say, Surry. I guess I’m still the same screwup I’ve always been.”

  Ian Duncan was a lot of things, but a screwup wasn’t one of them. He was in pain. Surry knew instantly that his pain had been caused by his father. She was familiar with that kind of pain, because her father had been the source of her pain and fears. She had no clue how to help herself deal with the issues she had with her father, but maybe she could spend this night helping Ian.

  Chapter 11

  “It wasn’t real...it wasn’t real at all,” Ian mumbled to himself as he sat on Surry’s couch trying to come to grips with the way life would be for him from this day forward.

  “What isn’t real? What’s wrong with you, Ian?” Surry sat down next to Ian and put her hand on his shoulder. “Talk to me, please.”

  “I’m the biggest fool in the history of politics.”

  “I doubt if that’s true,” Surry said as she began counting off political scandals and foolishness. “Sarah Palin looked foolish as she tried to step into shoes that were obviously too big for her to fill. And what about that Anthony Weiner, using Facebook to pick up chicks while his wife was carrying his baby?”

  “Those were dumb mistakes, but both Sarah Palin and Anthony Weiner stepped into their own mess willingly. I had no idea I was being played. But I feel like a fool because I should have known if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.” Ian slouched on the couch as he leaned his head against the headrest.

  “Okay, you need some coffee.” Surry jumped up, grabbed the phone and dialed room service, requesting a pot of coffee. She then looked over at Ian and asked, “I’m just guessing, but I don’t think you had anything to eat yet, either, right?”

  Had he eaten? His head was swimming so bad right now that he couldn’t remember what he did two seconds ago, let alone an hour ago. But his stomach felt empty, so he shook his head.

  Surry then said into the phone, “Can we get two dinners also?”

  “Sure, what can I get for you?”

  “This late at night, I’ll take a grilled chicken salad.” She looked over at Ian and added, “Can you bring a rib eye, medium well, and a baked potato with sour cream and chives, but no butter?”

  Ian couldn’t help but notice that Surry had asked for the exact piece of steak he’d ordered the other night, and she’d even ordered his baked potato the way he liked it. She was paying attention.

  “We’ll take whatever fresh fruit you have also.” She put the phone down and came back to sit next to him.

  He looked over at Surry. Her eyes were glowing with concern for him. Ian felt like the biggest jerk there ever was. “I’ve got to get out of here. I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems.” Ian attempted to stand but lost his footing and fell face-first into the seat of the couch.

  Surry pulled his head out of the cushions and then helped him sit back on the couch the right way. “You are not going anywhere. You’ve been unselfishly helping me with my business...by the way, thanks for whatever you did to get John Michael to recant his lies. So, now I am going to help you.”

  He mumbled something unintelligible.

  “Just lean your head back and rest. The coffee will be here in a minute and then we can talk.”

  He leaned back and began talking to himself, “I’m not a man at all. I’m still my father’s little boy.” He then lifted his head and asked Surry, “Why do you even want to be friends with me? I’m nothing more than a disappointing little boy.”

  “That’s not true. You’re a full-grown man with potential and worth,” she declared, speaking life into him.

  “Men don’t just follow in their father’s footsteps.” He grabbed hold of her arm and blew his hot breath in her face as he asked, “How can I ever expect to expand my path when Walter Duncan managed to get three presidents elected. I’ll never work on that many campaigns in my lifetime. I might as well just give up.”

  She removed his hand from her arm and stood up. “You’re just talking crazy now. I need to get some coffee in you quick so you can start talking like you’ve got some sense.” Surry grabbed the coffeepot and was getting ready to make the coffee herself when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Thank God.” She put the coffeepot down and opened the door.

  “I have the coffee you ordered,” the waiter said.

  Surry opened the door wide. “Thanks so much. Just set it on the table.” Surry grabbed her purse and gave the man a tip.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Not a problem. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” The door closed and she poured coffee in a cup. She poured in two packs of sugar, stirred it and then handed the cup to Ian. “Drink this.”

  He didn’t argue with her. She didn’t seem as if she was in the mood to take no for an answer. He took a couple of gulps and then watched as she took the blanket off her bed and spread it out on the floor. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  She looked up. “I figure you’re too drunk to sit at the table and eat. So, I’m going to make us a picnic.”

  “Well, if I’m as drunk as you think, I could just fall over on the floor, too.”

  “That’s why I put the blanket next to my bed. I’m going to let you lean against the mattress until you get enough food and coffee in you so that you can sit up straight,” Surry said.

  She then gave him a smile that tore at his heart. How could he disgrace himself by coming to a woman like Surry in such a messed-up condition? How could he ever expect her to want to be a part of his life now? Trying not to depress himself further, he took another gulp of his coffee.

  There was another knock on the door. Surry answered the door again. But this time Ian took a five out of his pocket and tipped the waiter.

  Surry spread the plates of food out on the blanket and then helped ease Ian to the floor. He leaned his back against the mattress as she filled his cup with more coffee.

  Ian took the cup from Surry and gulped as much of it down as he could. She sat down across from him and then handed him his dinner plate. “Thank you,” he said.

  Surry set her plate in front of her, dug her fork into her salad, took a bite and then said, “Okay, now we’ve got the coffee and some food for your stomach. Let’s eat and talk so we can get you all fixed up.”

  “Good luck with that, ’cause it’s going to be a long while before I’m all fixed up again.” Ian took another sip of his coffee.

  Surry put her hand on her heart as her eyes filled with something akin to sorrow.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I might be drunk, but you don’t have to spread all this pity around.”

  “I just don’t know what to say to you. When we left this afternoon, you were on top of the world. The luncheon was going well for you also—that is, until your father walked in. So, what happened?”

  “My father is what happened.” Ian took a bite of his steak to soothe his stomach and head. He was developing a headache and hoped that the food would relieve all his problems.

  “I already know that your father has something to do with why you chose to get drunk tonight and stand me up, but I just don’t understand. Your father seems successful, and you’re doing the same kind of work. So I would think that the two of you would be swapping stories and trading secrets.”

 
“That’s what I had thought when I was young and idealistic. And then my father fired me, and those rose-colored glasses came off real quick.”

  With a look of surprise on her face, Surry dropped her fork and said, “Are you serious? Your father really fired you?”

  “Looking back, I would have done the same thing to a staff member of mine who did what I did.”

  “What did you do?”

  Ian told her about being nineteen with hormones flying and the cute reporter who tricked him into divulging information about their client, which cost them the election.

  After he told Surry what the senator was caught doing, she said, “Yeah, I would have fired you, too...or at least suspended you until you got your hormones under control.” Shaking her head, she added, “Men.”

  “Okay,” Ian admitted, “I could handle being fired, especially because of what I did. But the things he said to me that day have bothered me for a long time. He said I had no place in politics and that I would never work on another campaign.”

  Pulling a few grapes off a stem, she said, “Well, you showed him, didn’t you? I mean, not only did you help Noel win his election, but you are now getting ready to work on a presidential campaign.”

  “It’s not real, Surry. My father got me this gig. He’s playing some sort of sick game that I don’t want any part of. So, I fired myself from this campaign. No need to wait on the old man to do it.”

  Surry’s head swiveled. “You did what?”

  “You heard me. I’m not taking Monroe on as a client.”

  “Just because your father had something to do with it?”

  “Exactly!” He lifted his fork and twirled it around as if he’d finally found a kindred spirit, someone who gets him. “I won’t be controlled by that man. If I can’t get my own clients, then I don’t need them.”

  Surry looked at Ian for a moment, opened her mouth, hesitated and then charged forward. “Maybe you’re just scared—”

  “I’m not afraid of nothing.” Ian was practically thumping his chest with this declaration.