by Rye Hart
“Obviously,” she said. “Because if you knew or cared about anything other than yourself, you'd know how important tonight's event is for me. Yet you come in here, treating our home like some sort of sleazy nightclub when we have some of the biggest names in politics in the other room. Do you know what this would do to my career if someone had seen us fooling around?”
She started to leave the room, but I grabbed her arm. She turned to me, a look of pure anger on her face, and in that moment, she reminded me of her father. She looked exactly like he did when he was pissed off. She'd always had a temper, and this wouldn't be the first time I was on the wrong side of things, but I'd hoped that I could at least apologize and try to make things right with her.
“Listen, I'm sorry. I'm trying here, Vanessa. Believe it or not, I really am,” I said. “I'm sorry.”
“Sorry isn't good enough, Carter,” she snapped.
“Wait a minute,” I said, getting angry now too. “You pulled me onto that desk, you wrapped your legs around me.”
“And it was a mistake. All of it was a mistake,” she said in return.
She pulled her arm free and left the office in a huff, slamming the door behind her as she left me alone with my thoughts, and a raging hard-on. Pulling myself together, I waited for my arousal to subside before I stepped back out into the throngs of people. I looked around and once again, found that Vanessa was out there , chatting it up with Dylan. He had his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, whispering something in her ear. Whatever it was that he'd said made Vanessa blush and giggle. She leaned in closer to him and said something only he could hear.
They were getting awfully cozy. As I stood there looking at her and all of the people around us, all of my own doubts and fears about myself came crashing down over me. How could I have ever thought that I'd be good enough for her? Especially when someone like Dylan was in the picture. Someone who not only had his shit together, but somebody who understood her ambitions in life. And somebody who had the connections to make things happen for her.
Fuck, I was such an idiot to think I ever stood a chance. Coming there and trying to prove myself to her had been a huge fucking mistake.
But it proved one thing. I was indeed the black sheep of this “family” and I would forever be on the outside looking in. I could never give Vanessa what she truly wanted. To keep trying to be a better person for her, to be somebody I wasn't, was simply an exercise in futility.
The realization was liberating.
I was free to be me.
CHAPTER NINE - VANESSA
“If you think your father is successful,” Dylan said, speaking low so as to not be overheard by any of my father's fans. “You're going to blow him out of the water, Vanessa.”
I blushed and leaned closer, “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. But I – ”
“Please, call me Dylan,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he spoke about my future career potential.
I'd never met anybody like him before. Oh sure, I'd been around plenty of political types, coming from this family, it was impossible to avoid. But I'd never met somebody whose sole job was to identify people they thought had talent and potential, and then groom them to be future politicians. And what blew me away even more was that he got so excited when it came to me talking about running for office in the future. His entire face lit up and he looked like he was barely containing his excitement.
“You're planning to run for Congress next term, correct?” he asked. “Take over your father's old seat in the House once he's in the Senate?”
“Well, I thought about it, briefly,” I said. “But I – ”
“No buts,” Dylan said. “We are going to make it happen. Vanessa, you are the future of not just this Congressional district, but this country. I can see your talent and ambition, and I'm not afraid to say that I already believe in you.”
I was dizzy with excitement and felt like I was walking on air. Yet, even with such high praise making my head buzz, I was distracted. I kept thinking about Carter and what I'd said to him. Sometimes, I could be too blunt and harsh for my own good; a not entirely wonderful trait I'd picked up from my father. And even though I knew that while he tried to hide it, Carter was sensitive. I knew that deep down, he felt inadequate and that one of his biggest fears was that he couldn't live up to the family's reputation.
And everything I'd said to him in my father's office only reinforced that notion in his head. I couldn't have felt like a bigger asshole if I'd tried. And knowing Carter like I did, even though he might not show it on the outside, I knew he was taking it hard.
I scanned the crowd, but saw no sign of him among the throngs of people. I was so distracted looking for him that I didn't even notice my father standing beside me until he tapped me on the shoulder.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “We're getting ready for the speeches now.”
“Sorry, I slipped away to talk to Carter earlier, and then Dylan pulled me aside.”
“Good work on your stepbrother by the way. I'm impressed,” Dad said, patting me on the back. “Looks like your influence did him well.”
He thought Carter's cleaner, more put together look was because of me. But honestly, since the night we had sex at the club, I'd tried to keep my distance from him. I needed time and space to think. To figure things out. And being around Carter always clouded my judgment as well as my emotions.
I excused myself from Dylan's side to take my place on stage. It was then, while I was front and center, that I saw Carter. His tie was removed, his shirt unbuttoned a bit and he was drinking straight from a bottle of Scotch. Jorge Gomez's granddaughter, Sofia, was at his side. His arm was around the woman's waist and the two of them were leaning close together, laughing at something.
My cheeks burned red as I tried to focus on my speech while my mind was racing, trying to find a way to stop the disaster before it started. But it was with a yawning chasm in my stomach and a deep, dark sense of foreboding, that I realized it was already too late.
“What the hell is he doing?” my Dad whispered in my ear. “I thought you'd talked to him about getting his shit together.”
Before I could say anything, let alone defend myself, my father had already summoned security to escort Carter out. I stayed where I was on stage and watched as Chuck and a few other large guys in suits approached him. Carter watched them coming, a look of agitation on his face. He took another long swig from his bottle and then turned and stared up at me, and for a moment, I looked back at him, trying to apologize with my eyes. And he gave me a brief smile that made me think I could fix things, and make things alright between us again.
I walked off the stage, stepping toward him, just as Dylan stepped up and put an arm around Carter's shoulder, smiling, talking, and obviously trying to calm him down. But Carter being who he was, swung at Dylan and hit him in the face with a closed fist. The sound of his fist connecting with Dylan's nose was loud enough that I heard it from where I was.
Dylan doubled over, clutching his nose with his hands, blood squeezing out from between his fingers. I hurried over to Carter and Dylan, torn between who to go to, as Carter looked at me and screamed, his face a mask of absolute rage.
“Everyone in this family is a joke!” he yelled. “Fucking fake ass people!”
He looked me dead in the eye as he said those words, and I felt my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. I knew, in that moment, that Carter wasn't capable of changing. He was who he was and he wasn't willing to change that. I realized that this had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with him. In that moment, even though my heart was shattered, I was sad for him.
“You need help, Carter,” I sobbed, not even bothering to cover my tears. “You need more help than even I can give you.”
Chuck and the bodyguards had managed to get ahold of him and they dragged him away. I watched as the front doors closed, and he was gone. Standing there, looking at those closed doors, I'd never felt so alone in my entire life.
Even though I was surrounded by people, I was absolutely and utterly alone. No one here could possibly understand the pain I was going through in that moment. No one could understand the broken heart I was enduring. Nobody could ever understand what Carter had meant to me.
Not even Carter seemed to understand that.
ooo000ooo
Amy was more than happy to comfort me as I cried on her shoulder that later evening. We had wine and ice cream – more of both than I probably should have – and she let me talk, cry, rage, and rail. Most importantly, she didn't judge me for feeling the way I did.
“I can't believe I slept with him. Again. I'm so weak,” I sobbed. “He's never going to change. I should have known that. I should have fucking known that. I'm such a goddamn idiot.”
“Hush,” she said. “Give it a few days and then maybe try to talk to him again. He might just need a minute to calm down.”
“I can't,” I said, wiping my nose and sniffing loudly. “I'm too weak. I want to sleep with him, even though I know it's a terrible idea. Worse than a terrible idea.”
As soon as we were in the same room together, we'd naturally flirt and that eventually led us down a dangerous path. As I sat there, sobbing in my wine and ice cream with Amy, I knew that I wanted him still – even after his stupid little temper tantrum.
“That's love for ya, chica,” Amy said softly.
I snorted. “I don't love him. Not like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Girl, you've loved him from the moment you laid eyes on him. Even back in school when he drove you batshit crazy, it was always 'Carter this' and 'Carter that'. He's all you could talk about, and even when your families came together, that feeling didn't just go away. And if you're telling yourself that, you're straight lying to yourself – and that's never a good thing.”
“I can’t keep going like this, Amy. It’s killing me,” I said. My phone rang, and Amy picked it up and looked at the caller.
“It's Dylan,” she said, rolling her eyes and preparing to cancel the call.
“No, I need to talk to him,” I said. “I need to apologize for what happened at the gala.”
“Why? You didn't break his nose, Carter,” Amy said.
I took the phone and answered, trying not to sound as if I'd been crying.
“Hey, Dylan,” I said. “How are you doing? I hope you're okay?”
“I'm fine,” he said. “My nose will heal.”
I cringed remembering the way he looked after we'd cleaned up all the blood. He was a mess. Eyes blackened and bloodshot, his cheeks red and swollen. His perfectly symmetrical face might not be so perfect anymore. At least, not until he got a nose job to correct the damage left by my stepbrother.
“Listen, I'm really sorry about that. Sorry about Carter,” I said. “I really don't know what got into him and he was obviously out of line.”
“He was drunk, tensions were high,” Dylan said. “I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize who he was hitting.”
It looked pretty intentional to me and I think he knew exactly who he was throwing a punch at. But I kept that to myself. I saw no need to throw more gasoline on the fire.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you'd want to get together for dinner?” he asked. “Just to talk, of course.”
My stomach dropped. I liked Dylan well enough as a friend and valued him as a strategist. I knew he could do wonders for my career, but I had no interest in dating him. I looked at Amy, biting my lip, and as if she knew what he'd asked me, she mouthed “NO” over and over again, shaking her head aggressively.
“Uhh – ” I stammered.
“Just to talk about your career, I mean,” he said. “Nothing too personal, I promise. I just want to help you. I think that together, you and I can accomplish some pretty big things, Vanessa.”
“Ummm, yeah, okay – ” I said after a long while. “That sounds good. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there. ”
Amy frowned at me. “You’re going on a date with the guy? Seriously, Vanessa, you are in no shape to date anybody right now. You need to get your head right about Carter first.”
“He said he wanted to get together to talk about my political career,” I said. “It's not a date.”
“Sure, yeah. That's what they all say,” Amy said, rolling her eyes. “Girl, you just might be more messed up than I am.”
“You think so?” I teased. “You're pretty messed up – you're still not over your third grade boyfriend.”
“Because he's an underwear model now, duh,” Amy said with a laugh. “He looks nothing like he did in elementary school. Trust me on that.”
“It's still messed up,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe a little,” she said, popping a spoonful of Ben and Jerry's in her mouth.
CHAPTER TEN - CARTER
Sofia Gomez was still all over me – even after what went down at the fundraiser. I had no idea why she was there or why her father was a guest of honor or whatever it was Vanessa had called him. But whatever it was, she kept calling me nonstop. I would usually avoid her calls, choosing to drink myself into oblivion, all alone in my penthouse. But even that wasn't enough to deter her and she continued blowing up my phone at all hours of the night.
So when my phone rang, I assumed it was her and rolled my eyes. I planned to cancel the call, but when I looked at my phone, I noticed it was a different number on the caller ID – one I didn't recognize. The curiosity got the best of me, so I picked up the call.
“Hey Carter?” a vaguely familiar voice said on the other end of the phone.
“Yeah? Who's this?” I asked.
“Uh, well, it's Amy,” the woman's voice said. “I'm Vanessa's best friend.”
“Holy shit, I remember you,” I said, my head pounding, still reeling from my hangover. “Long time. What's up?”
“You care about Vanessa, don't you?” she asked bluntly, cutting right through the small talk.
“Of course,” I said. “Not that it matters. She's made her position pretty clear.”
“Well, she cares for you too,” Amy said. “And you need to do something, dude. Seriously, if you keep this up, you're going to lose her and I don't want my best friend to end up with a dick like Dylan Montgomery. She loves you and you need to get your shit together.”
Hearing his name filled me with rage, and an overwhelming sense of resignation.
“Not much I can do about it,” I said. “She seemed pretty into him when I saw them together at that stupid fundraiser the other night.”
“Yeah, well maybe there is something you can do. And if you can get your shit together for five minutes, I'm willing to help,” Amy said. “But please, whatever you do, don't tell Vanessa I called you. This is totally confidential. When I tell you what I tell you, you have got to pretend like you ran into her randomly, got it?”
I was confused as all hell, but I agreed.
“And if I find out you told her that I told you,” Amy said, trying to make her voice low and menacing, “I'll come over to your place, cut your pecker off, and throw it down the garbage disposal. You got me?”
“Yeah, I got you,” I said, not even close to understanding what she was going on about or why she was threatening me.
“Fine. She's meeting Dylan this evening for dinner at Moscato,” she said. “She's totally not interested in him, but he's told her he just wants to talk about her career and she bought it.”
“Just like her father,” I said. “A relationship not of love and feeling, but of political expediency.”
“Exactly,” Amy said. “And we can both agree that she deserves better than that, right?”
“Yeah,” I said simply.
“Good. Then I need you to stop being an absolute shithead and be the Carter we knew back in high school,” she said. “You need to stop taking no for an answer.”
“What are you – ”
“I'm saying you need to win her back, Carter,” Amy said. “Because I know she loves you, even if she won't admit it out loud.
But you screwed up, buddy. And you're going to have to bust your balls to win her back. But you have a window to do that.”
My heart raced as she spoke. No one knew Vanessa like Amy did. If she was telling me there was a chance, I had to believe that there was. I sat up in my bed and as the cobwebs in my head started to drift away and a surge of adrenaline rushed through me, I wrote down the time and the address and promised Amy I'd try to stop the date.
“And don't punch the guy again, please?” Amy said. “Because while that sadistic rage thing might be sexy in the movies, it's a turn off in real life. Believe me.”
She hung up and I was even more confused than ever. I sat back and looked at my phone, wondering if I'd fallen down the rabbit hole. Had I dreamt that entire conversation?
Looking at the clock, I realized I had a little less than hour to make myself presentable. For the first time in days, I cleaned myself up, showered, shaved and even put on nice clothes. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt a wave of doubt and self-consciousness come crashing down over me. I took a deep breath and tried to stuff it all back down. I had to do this. For me. And for Vanessa.
It was now or never, and if Amy thought I had a chance – why the hell should I not roll the dice and try to make it work with Vanessa?
ooo000ooo
Not wanting to be too obvious, I picked up Sofia and brought her along with me, pretending we were on a romantic date. As the host took us to our seats, I saw Dylan and Vanessa sitting huddled closely together at a nearby table. Seeing them look so cozy again, I felt the wave of anger welling up within me, and I had to fight to keep it in check.
Vanessa hadn't seen me, not yet, but Dylan had. He looked over at me, a look of mild surprise on his face and then turned, and said something to Vanessa. She turned around, eyes wide and fixed on me as Sofia and I took our seats. She said something to Dylan and shook her head vigorously, the expression on her face darkening. I had no idea what she was saying, but I knew it wasn't good news for me.