Fast Forward

by Marion Croslydon

  Miranda rested her hands on my shoulders and squeezed hard. “—Don’t compare yourself to Jeanine. You’re a far better woman than she’d ever be if she’d lived to be one-hundred.”

  “But Jack isn’t going to let it go. I understand now why he’s been on my case since I came and lived with Gran. Me being Josh’s best friend must have been a living hell.”

  “Good!” Miranda said with sparkles in her eyes.

  We shared a bitter giggle but I had a sinking feeling this wouldn’t be the last time I had to deal with Jack MacBride.

  CHAPTER 14

  Josh

  I’d landed back in D.C. from Kansas City last Tuesday night. It was now Monday and I’d only been back to my apartment once since returning, to pick up a change of clothes. I’d been staying in the same stuffy room for almost a week, sharing the cramped space with four other junior staffers.

  Unfortunately for everyone involved, the windows of the room wouldn’t open and we’d had to rely solely on air-conditioning to keep the atmosphere vaguely fresh. That and the limited number of showers in the Senate gym made for a smelly bunch.

  I found out quickly that, when you work on Capitol Hill, there is always a valid reason to pull an all-nighter; analyzing bills, summarizing memos, developing policy positions.

  I wasn’t afraid of hard work. It wasn’t as if I’d coasted through Georgetown and Oxford. But over the last week, each time my brain had disconnected from whatever was thrown at me by Estevez or his Deputy Chief of Staff, Peter Hewitt, Lucas’s face sprang to mind. If this was a taste of my future working life, I wouldn’t be around much. I wouldn’t be there to read him a story at nighttime or take him to after-school football training. Or karate class. Or whatever.

  I’d still had that dream I could change the world. Washington was where someone like me could make that dream come true. I wanted my little family to be part of something big and meaningful. But maybe it was just that, a dream.

  “Are you joining us at The Speaker?” Bradley was another junior staffer.

  “I might pass on tonight. Sorry.” Cassie was back and we’d planned a romantic pizza date. We’d never had dates before, so maybe I should be thinking French cuisine or something fancy. But I knew my girl, and she loved pizza.

  “Andy will be there.” Bradley said this as if God himself had decided to stop by on his way to heaven and share a beer with us. But, in our world, Andrew Estevez was pretty much the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

  “My wife arrived back in D.C. this morning and we have plans. I haven’t seen her for a week.”

  “You’re married?” The guy asked the question as if I’d just told him I suffered from a venal disease. “I mean, how old are you?”

  I ignored his question, knowing that he would be appalled I’d said ‘I do’ at the tender age of seventeen… or had a five-year-old son.

  My cell vibrated on the desk and I checked the message.

  Cassie (17:32): Total screw-up with the subway. Mixed up between blue and green lines. Will b there much later. Sorry.

  Bradley had finished packing his stuff.

  “Hold on, Brad. I might have time for a cold one after all.”

  At that moment, the door opened and Senator Andrew Estevez appeared. Bradley jumped and I fully expected him to throw himself on the carpeted floor and worship at the lap of his idol.

  “Well done, guys.”

  “Thanks Senator,” Bradley answered dutifully.

  Andy’s attention focused on me. “Josh, I’d like a word with you.”

  “Of course.”

  It took a few seconds for Bradley to take the hint.

  After he finally left, Andy Estevez sat on the chair opposite me. “I’m going to cut to the chase. I was out for dinner with my wife last night and bumped into someone you know very well. Bruce Carrington.” I knew where this was going, so I stiffened in my chair. “He doesn’t like you,” Andy added.

  “We had our differences,” I answered non-committedly. Lenor’s father had wanted me to help him keep his daughter on a tight leash but I’d declined. To him, that was a worse crime than proposing to his daughter while still being married to another girl. That in itself should be the most valid reason to hate my guts.

  “He told me an intriguing story of intended bigamy and a secret child.” I didn’t comment so he continued. “You never mentioned you were married—not that it’s any of my business.”

  “Well, technically, I don’t have a son. He was adopted by another family at birth.”

  Estevez’s eyebrows arched in a way I’d seen him do when attending a hearing. It was his way of saying ‘Don’t bullshit me.’

  I’d spent the last week working my guts out for this guy, taking power naps under the table so that he could have his mark-ups ready for the next hearing. “No offense, Sir, but I’d like to keep some parts of my private life… well, private.” Cassie and Lucas were mine and mine only. However screwed-up our story was, it was precious to me.

  “In politics, Joshua, there’s no such thing as ‘private.’”

  “I’m not naïve, but my background wouldn’t matter at this stage of my career if I wasn’t on Bruce Carrington’s black-list.”

  Estevez rested against the back of the chair. He was a handsome man, dark and brooding, and it’d worked miracles with his female constituents. As far as I knew, he was also a family man with a solid marriage. It was one of the reasons I’d wanted to work for him. Andy kept staring at me in silence, sizing me up. I didn’t shuffle, I didn’t blink. I had nothing to hide, but had nothing to add either.

  “Did you at any point do anything illegal with regards to this business Carrington was rambling on about?”

  My boss was entitled to an answer. “Nothing illegal, but I should have handled myself better and treated Eleanor Carrington with more respect.”

  I remained the subject of Estevez’s appraisal for another minute and I hated to admit it, but I started feeling antsy. Finally, he broke the silence, “Don’t fuck it up, Josh. I’m impressed with you, especially after our stint in Europe. I’d hate to see you throw your future away because you managed a situation badly, even once. So I’ll give you two words of advice today: Damage control.

  “Whatever is happening in your private life right now, think about when it’ll be dug up by a journalist ten years from now when you run for senate. Make sure it doesn’t make you look too bad, or doesn’t cost you an election.”

  He was looking far, far into the future, and I hadn’t allowed myself to think so big. Yet.

  “I can’t stand Carrington anyway. Hearing him attack you won you some brownie points with me.” Estevez stood and headed toward the door. “Come and join us for a drink.”

  “I will, sir. Thanks for giving me a chance to explain.”

  Estevez nodded at me. “You’re welcome. However, please handle yourself in a way becoming to this office. And be smart about it.”

  “I will.”

  Once I found myself alone, my fist struck the table top. I hadn’t felt the anger boiling up inside me until it exploded. If, one day I made it high enough in this city, Bruce Carrington would be first on my hit list.

  In the meantime, I had to take my girl out for dinner if she ever managed to make it out of the D.C. subway. I headed to the bar and my team. I was still pissed off by Carrington’s attack and, once inside, didn’t manage to cool down until my second beer was half-way down my throat. I sent a text to Cassie telling her where I was, asking her to call me when she made it out of the station.

  I wanted to get away from my work crowd ASAP. Hewitt kept sucking up so hard to Estevez and his Chief of Staff that it made me want to throw up. Schmoozing wasn’t my thing. I took a break from the group I’d been talking to: the over-keen Scheduler, Legislative Director, Policy Advisor and the short-skirted press intern who’d been hired for the fall semester.

  I was on my way to the restroom when my cell vibrated in my suit’s inside pocket. I checked the ID. An
international call. France?

  “MacBride speaking.”

  Five seconds of silence when I heard the light buzzing of the line.

  “Josh, it’s me.” Her voice had that familiar melody I’d liked so much.

  “Hey Lenor. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m worried about you.”

  “What for?”

  “I had the displeasure of talking with my father this morning. One of his usual inquisitions into my life… but, anyway, that’s not the point. He got angry and that was when he mentioned meeting Andrew Estevez last night. From what I understand, my dad lashed out on you to your boss.”

  “I know. Andy came and talked to me about it. It’s all fine. It just so happens that my boss can’t stand your father anyway.”

  Lenor’s laugh resonated in my ear. “And yet another on the long list of Carrington haters. That’ll make Zach happy.”

  Zach, Lenor’s first love.

  I hesitated for one moment, not sure what the etiquette was between exes. I asked anyway, “How are things going with Zach?”

  She sighed. “Complicated. Amazing. Painful… I’m not sure, it changes every day. I’m not—, I don’t,” she stammered, “Second chances don’t come easy.”

  “They don’t. That’s why they’re worth fighting for.”

  “Maybe… or maybe it’s a sign it was never meant to be. At least him and me.”

  “That’s for you to decide, Lenor. You must do what’s good for you.”

  Another silent stretch. “How are Cassandra and Lucas?”

  “She’s on her way back in D.C. now. We’re trying to speed up the adoption as much as we can.”

  “Good luck, Josh. I hope you’ll be a family soon.”

  “Thanks, Lenor. Don’t settle for less than you’re worth. And that’s a lot.”

  I got the crystalline laugh of Lenor, the Socialite. She reverted to that role as soon as she was insecure. “You’re a sweet talker, Joshua MacBride. It’ll work miracles on the Hill. Take care!”

  “Take care, Lenor.”

  The line went dead.

  In the restroom I splashed some water over my face. The mirror threw back the image of a man in dire need of sleep. I made my way back to the bar and checked my cell. There were no messages from Cassie, but I froze because she stood in the entrance, the revolving doors swirling around behind her. Her hair was pulled into a pony-tail and she was wearing skinny jeans which molded to her shapely legs. The T-shirt she wore had The Libs written on it. She was hot and totally out of place.

  All I wanted to do was swinging her over my shoulder and get her the hell out of there.

  Cassie checked out the room, oblivious to the men sitting by the bar that were checking her out. I bolted forward and, in a few strides, stood between my girl and the oglers.

  “How did you find me?” I asked.

  “Nice to see you too!” She threw back at me. “You told me the name of the bar and all I had to do was ask around. I’m not completely clueless.”

  I kissed her cheek. I wanted to do much more since I’d not seen her in a week but it was hardly the place. “Sorry. I’m surprised, that’s all. You said you wouldn’t be here for ages and I resigned myself to wile away the time on my own.”

  “Hey, MacBride!” Bradley passed by, probably back from the restroom. His gaze swept over Cassie’s body. The guy clearly wanted to have a longer look, but didn’t have the guts or bad manners to do so overtly. “Is this your wife?”

  I left the question hanging. After Estevez’ pep-talk I had this overwhelming need to keep Cassie and our life together shut away from my career.

  “I’m Cassandra.” She extended her hand.

  “Bradley. I work with Josh.” He shook Cassie’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Do you want to join us? I’m dying to find some dirt on this husband of yours. He’s difficult to get to know.”

  I cut in. “We had plans and—”

  “—I’d love to.”

  “Cool. Do you want something to drink?” Bradley turned toward the bar.

  “A Bud, please.”

  Since when was Cassie into networking? She waited for Bradley to reach the bar and answered my silent question, “I want to know more about your work…” She looked around the room with its stainless steel bar top and the mahogany walls. “That way I can hopefully support you better.”

  I didn’t want Cassie dragged into this.

  “I’ll be fine.” She squeezed my forearm and I started thinking Cassie had a crazy ability to read my mind.

  Andy had left but everyone else was still there. I introduced her and you would have had to be blind to ignore how surprised my colleagues looked.

  Ashlyn, the nineteen-year-old press intern, spoke up first. “I didn’t know Josh was married.” She didn’t make any effort to hide her disappointment. “He doesn’t wear a wedding ring.” She checked Cassie’s fingers which were wrapped around her bottle of beer. “Neither do you.”

  Cassie threw me a look filled with questions and they weren’t about why we didn’t wear wedding rings. They were more about why I hadn’t mentioned my marital status.

  “I take it you don’t work on the Hill?” Ashlyn gave Cassie the once-over. Her jeans and T-shirt didn’t scream out the typical ‘job-behind-a-desk.’

  “I’m actually looking for a job.”

  Laura, a woman in her mid-forties, asked, “What kind of work?”

  “Well, back in Kansas, I used to—“

  “Cassie is a singer and song-writer. She’s just finished touring with an Indie band.”

  My revelation was received with a stunned silence. People on Capitol Hill weren’t known for their rock ’n’ roll spirit.

  Ashlyn pointed at Cassie’s T-shirt, “Is that the band you were touring with?”

  “Yep! Except they’re not a band anymore. Their frontman is going solo. His name is Shawn Dupret and you’re gonna hear about him soon. He’s awesome.”

  The rest of our small circle nodded and Ashlyn even let out a ‘whoa.’ Ten more seconds of awkward silence when everyone’s gaze was stuck on their drinks and Bradley asked, “Laura, any idea when Andy is due at the White House?”

  The energy picked up again and the conversation reverted to its lively pace. Cassie’s face froze in a smile while my colleagues exchanged views on the latest hearing and the upcoming challenges of the fall semester. I chimed in only when I was asked a direct question, and my answers were short. My hand rested on the small of Cassie’s back. I was waiting for her to finish her beer so I could signal our departure.

  “Hi, guys!” Hewitt joined our group with his trademark fake positive attitude. He zeroed in on Cassie right away. “Do we have a new addition to our team? As the Deputy Chief of Staff, I’m shocked I wasn’t informed.” Each time Hewitt talked I heard the hiss of a snake in the background.

  “This is Cassandra, Josh’s wife.” Bradley made the introductions before I could open my mouth. “Cassie, this is Peter, our ever-competent Deputy Chief of Staff.”

  Cassie gave Peter her brightest smile. For it to be that bright, I knew she was faking it.

  “Come on, your jokes are getting a little old, man,” Peter commented while taking a swig of his beer. “I met Josh’s fiancée in Paris.” Silence crashed over our group and Cassie’s face turned blank. “Come on, Josh, it’s not a state secret you’re engaged to Bruce Carrington’s daughter.”

  Embarrassed glances ping-ponged between my colleagues. My arms reached around Cassie’s shoulders and held onto her tightly.

  “You’d better check your sources, Peter. I’m married, not engaged.” Cassie’s beer wasn’t finished but these after-work drinks were over. “Now, my apologies to you all, but my wife and I have plans for tonight.” I took Cassie’s bottle, laid it on the table next to us and we took our leave.

  With Cassie’s hand in mine, we headed outside. She almost had to run to keep up with me, three of her strides to every one of mine.

  “Stop right
there, Joshua MacBride! Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”

  I spun around and saw her chin was raised in that stubborn manner of hers. Cassie was up for a fight, but I knew there was nothing to fight about. But I wasn’t going to bull-shit her either.

  “I did see Lenor when I was in Paris. It wasn’t planned. She came to a cocktail reception at the U.S. Embassy where Estevez had been invited. That’s how Peter met her. I never mentioned being engaged to her, neither did she.”

  “So it was completely random that the two of you met on the only night you spent in Paris? Remind me, Josh, how many people live in that goddam city? Ten million? Fifteen?”

  “Twelve million in its metropolitan area.” I answered dead-pan. “And no, it wasn’t random. She’d heard Estevez would be there and she knew I’d be with him, so she managed to get a last-minute invitation.”

  “You told me it was all over between the two of you?” Her voice trailed off. Cassie wasn’t playing it tough anymore.

  “It is over, Cass. But Lenor needed to make sure it was for her too. She’s met someone in Paris.” I thought of the story Lenor told me, of her own second chance. It wasn’t for me to share, not even with Cassie.

  She wrapped her arms around her upper body and her expression was closed. She wasn’t angry anymore. “If you have nothing to hide, why didn’t you tell me about it? I’d have been prepared in front of your work crowd and wouldn’t have looked like such a fool.”

  “When was I supposed to mention it? The night in Phoenix when we found out Alfredo had died? Or on the day of his funeral when the Lorettis dropped their bombshell?”

  “What about all last week?”

  I rubbed my chin and let out a heavy breath. “Because I haven’t had time to do anything over the last week but work on Estevez’s memos. Because in the grand scheme of things—Alfredo’s death, Lucas’s adoption, or me having to prove myself at work—meeting Lenor in Paris wasn’t top of my list of things to discuss for the few hours we had together or the minutes on the phone.”