For Immediate Release

by Clancy Nacht

  For Immediate Release

  Clancy Nacht

  www.einekleinepress.com

  For Immediate Release

  Copyright © June 2018 by Clancy Nacht

  ISBN: 9781983015830

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  Trademarked names appear throughout this book. Rather than use a trademark symbol with every occurrence of a trademarked name, names are used in an editorial fashion, with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  Eine Kleine Press

  P.O. Box 3671

  Pflugerville, TX 78691

  www.einekleinepress.com

  Acknowledgment

  Thanks to Thursday Euclid for keeping me on track and reading each chapter as I went. Also, for editing services and everything in between!

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  The restaurant was noisy with raucous, fake laughter and the usual clash of plates and flatware. Lance peered past the hostess into its depths, looking for a familiar face.

  “How many in your party, sir?”

  When his gaze met Corey’s, Lance waved off the hostess. “Meeting someone. I’m good, thanks.”

  She looked over her shoulder at Corey’s broad, unmistakable frame, the incomplete party she probably only sat due to a bribe, and smiled. There didn’t appear to be real joy behind it; it was the chore of the hospitality class to look pleased even when they didn’t give two shits. Lance knew that feeling all too well.

  Her gaze moved from Corey to the person behind Lance, leaving him to weave his way through the tables and wait staff to the setting for two in the corner by a window.

  Corey stood and shook Lance’s hand, and then they both sat, formalities dispensed with. A glass of water stood waiting for Lance, coated with the barest hint of condensation.

  Lance hadn’t intended to be late. Austin’s lack of parking had other ideas. “Sorry.”

  Waving it off, Corey gestured to the glass of white wine he’d apparently ordered for Lance. That had to be revenge of some sort. Corey knew Lance was a red wine drinker.

  Lance grinned tightly and took a swig. Chardonnay.

  Yeah. That was revenge. “Thanks.”

  Corey smirked. “Ordered you the salad.”

  “Great.”

  “I know how you worry about your figure.”

  “Sure.” Lance rolled his eyes. He could apologize again for being late, but he didn’t see the point. “So, what’s up?”

  “Hey, come on, Lance. I like to think after all we’ve been through that we’re friends now.” Even when Corey sat back his prodigious girth nudged the table. That jack-o-lantern smile took over his round, overly bronzed face.

  Lance took another sip of wine and eyed Corey warily. “Okay, friends. Why not?”

  “Tech biz is going bust again.” Corey drummed his fingers on his stomach.

  “Is that why you brought me here? To pontificate on the state of affairs in the industry?” Lance set down the wine as Corey picked up a tumbler of dark liquid.

  “No. I wondered, in light of this bubble bursting, if you’re interested in diversifying your public relations firm.”

  Lance placed his hands flat on the table and leaned in. “I’ve never served strictly tech; that’s just where my connections are. What’ve you got?”

  Corey’s lips pulled back. Smug. He had something. “Wondering what you think about politics.”

  Before Lance could answer, the waiter arrived with their food. Corey had a blue steak, asparagus, and mashed cauliflower. The waiter set the chef’s salad in front of Lance. Their gazes met. The waiter’s eyes widened briefly, probably surprised a man was getting a salad.

  Fucking Corey.

  Lance was used to manly Texans slighting him and laughing about it. At this point, Lance was past being offended. He liked salads and disliked heart disease, so he won.

  After giving the waiter a polite nod, Lance dug into his salad. “Politics?”

  “Come on. You’re in Austin. The city’s economic pendulum goes back and forth between tech and politics every few years. When tech goes all rubbery, you go to politics.” Corey winked. Grease and pepper from the steak covered his maw. “You gotta know something about that, right?”

  Lance chose to utterly miss Corey’s point. “Going rubbery? No, can’t say that’s a problem for me. Maybe you should lay off the red meat.”

  “Hah!” Corey reared back to laugh, and the force of his volume quieted the noisy restaurant for a beat before everyone resumed their conversations at a slightly lower level. He attacked his steak with relish. “You know what I mean, kid. You’ve done good work for me. I’ve got a friend in the political space looking for representation. He’s got people, state level people. He needs to get to the next level.”

  Sadly, much as Lance loved tech, Corey was right. Those jobs were drying up. Lance had even been considering taking oil money. “All right. I don’t know what good I’ll do you. Politics bores me. I don’t know anything.” Lance winced at his sip of Chardonnay, but he needed some alcohol for this conversation.

  “All you do is politics. I’ve seen you pull crazy Game of Thrones shit to keep CEOs in power.” Grease dripped down the sides of Corey’s chin. He stabbed a spear of asparagus and shoved it in his mouth.

  Lance wrinkled his nose and focused on his salad. “Right, but it’s not like I can introduce him or her to any kingmakers. Those aren’t my people.”

  Corey continued chewing a strip of steak as he spoke. “He. And connections aren’t his problem. He’s already a senator. You know what those are, right?”

  Lance gestured with his Chardonnay glass, rolling the stem in his fingers. “Yeah, I can follow along that much. But, Jesus, isn’t that guy like a hundred years old? What’s he running for?”

  “You really don’t follow politics, do you?” Corey laughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin before dropping it back in his lap. “That old guy was out in the last election. It’s a new guy in. Young. You’d like him.”

  Lance was done eating. He dabbed his lips and set his napkin on the table. “Republican?”

  “You’d still like him.”

  “Sure. Would he like me?” Lance held up his wine glass coyly and batted his lashes. “I’m pretty sure they’re still against homos.”


  Something between wickedness and amusement crossed Corey’s expression, and then he shrugged. “The senator’s a young guy. Young for politics, anyway. He wants to move away from that Trumpian shit. Meet him.”

  Lance did the math, running the number of clients he had versus the bills and workers his business supported. It wasn’t going to line up, not without a fresh cash infusion. Not that he believed for a moment that a Republican senator would hire him for much other than a quick, discreet blowie, but it wasn’t like he had a lot to lose. “Fine.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Elliot. Elliot Swardson.” The man was tall, dark haired, with a slightly crooked nose, and a wide smile of perfect white teeth. A firm grip. The way his dark eyes locked on Lance’s made him feel really seen.

  But that was politicians, right? That was what they did. Their magic.

  Lance had never shaken hands with one before. Sure, he’d gotten robocalls and request for donations. This, though, not so much. He tried not to be too dazzled by the man’s good looks, beautiful Westlake home, or stellar blond wife, Susan.

  Just the touch of Elliot’s hand made Lance tingle and the way he gazed into Lance’s eyes as if he’d found something he’d been looking for.

  Lance caressed Elliot’s hand instead of releasing it from their shake. He wants an answer. My name. “Oh, um, Lance Gatsby.”

  “As in the great?” Elliot smiled like the sun and squeezed Lance’s hand.

  “Yeah, the Great Gatsby.” Lance had heard it a thousand times, but from those lips, that mouth, the words seemed transformed, as if a brilliant observation had been made.

  And he was still shaking Elliot’s hand.

  Pull it together, man.

  Lance let go of Elliot’s hand and took a step back.

  One of Susan’s perfect eyebrows rose. “Elliot and I have two children.” She narrowed her eyes. “Natalie and Rick. If we choose you to work with us, you’ll probably meet them at some point.”

  “Right. Of course, a boy and a girl.” Lance nodded, feeling dazed. They were such perfect people. A perfect family. A presidential family.

  Someday maybe Lance would tell people about how he met the president one summer afternoon where Lance was too sweaty and star-struck to say anything witty.

  Elliot’s gaze never left Lance, roaming over him with a hunger Lance didn’t think he was imagining. “I hear you’re a fixer.”

  “Just a PR guy, really. I solve some problems here and there, put clients on a better path, but I don’t know if I’d call myself a fixer. Is that what Corey said?” Lance shoved his hands in his pockets and steeled himself against the looks he was getting. Of course he was being inspected; this was a job interview.

  “Corey said you were PR but capable of more. He said we should get in on you at the ground floor while we can still afford you.” Elliot pivoted on the foyer’s marble floor and invited in Lance with a wide gesture. “Come on in. Have a seat.”

  At least Lance was in the door.

  Elliot led the way. Susan walked next to Lance, eying him as they went. “Can I get you a drink? Or rather, is there something you’d prefer to the scotch Elliot’s going to pour if I don’t intervene?” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Natural blond, brown eyes, tall and curvy—in many ways as dazzling as her husband, maybe more so if Lance were so inclined. She was perfect, like a winning thoroughbred, formed and trained specifically to be on the arm of a president. Sexy, but not overwhelmingly so, sweet and open. Alluring, but not in a provocative way.

  Lance couldn’t help it; he was under her spell. “I can deal with scotch. But if you’re a wine drinker, I’ll join you.”

  “Ah, you know the way to a woman’s heart.” Susan double-timed her steps to catch up with her husband. “Lance prefers wine.”

  The living room was tastefully decorated with a mix of designer pieces to make the room appear cozy. Lush dark woods, distressed, with the appearance of being plucked out of an estate sale happened upon while cycling one day. Definitely manufactured to give that impression, not authentic. What political family had that kind of time? No, the impression of authenticity would serve for them.

  The deep tan couches were comfortable. Made for sitting, Lance decided as he sank into one. No stuffy leather here, though through glass doors, the study displayed furnishings of all the fussy leather anyone could want.

  Susan brought him a glass of wine and settled into the other end of the couch. Elliot chose a matching chair and pulled it closer.

  He perched on it with his scotch and smiled. “The thing is, I’m thinking about running for president.”

  Lance nodded. He’d figured as much. “Surely the party will have a range of people who can work for you, ones with more experience in politics.”

  Elliot swigged his scotch and then stared into the depths of his glass. “Sure, that’s probably true. But have you seen the Republican field? Those liberals, they call it the clown car, and they’re not wrong. The biggies, well, they took most of the choice campaign managers. The really big leagues, they don’t even want to see you until they’re sure that you’re going to secure a billionaire backer.”

  “Ah.” Lance exhaled. He was the bottom of the barrel. That took off some pressure at the expense of his professional pride. “So, you need someone who can fill in the gap—make sure someone sees you’ve got the right stuff, and then they can take it from there? Is that the gist of it?”

  Susan eyed her husband.

  Elliot smirked as he returned his gaze to Lance. “Blunt, but that’s about the size of it. I like that, though. All out on the table.”

  “Me too.” After another sip, Lance leaned back and enjoyed the cool air on his face as the air conditioner kicked on. “I can work with you as I do with CEOs, on messaging and presenting yourself. It’s not a completely different beast, in some ways.”

  “It’s easier. You get polling numbers to guide you along the way.” Susan smiled and raised her glass in a mock toast to polling.

  Lance stretched his back as the alcohol loosened him up. “Yeah, I think I can do the job, get you to the next round, but I’ll to disclose to you, since your political affiliation is what it is, I’m gay.”

  Susan and Elliot eyed each other and then looked back to Lance. She nodded and then averted her gaze as if she wished she anywhere but here.

  Elliot leaned forward and smiled, softer this time, like the drink had taken hold of him. “Corey told us. We understand. You seem very straight-acting. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

  Straight acting. Lance tried not to sigh. He’d never intended to seem less gay, whatever that meant, but he’d been raised by a strict father who wouldn’t tolerate self-expression. Hell, Lance envied flamboyant men their freedom. If he could let go of his neuroses, he’d probably be a much happier person.

  But he couldn’t. And he wasn’t.

  “Be that as it may, Mr. Swardson—”

  “Call me Elliot.” He gave his winning smile, and Lance almost forgot what he was going to say.

  “Elliot, be that as it may, I’m not in the closet. I date who I date, and I don’t keep it quiet. Your constituents are likely to find out.” Lance set the wine glass on a coaster on the coffee table. This conversation was probably over.

  Elliot shrugged. “Do what you have to do. This party’s younger voters have no one to represent their interests. It’s a Grand Old Party, emphasis on old. Old ideas, especially regarding homosexuality. I won’t throw you under the bus. If your sexuality comes up, I’ll use it as a teachable moment for the party.”

  Lance was captivated. What could he say to that? Moving conservatives to acceptance sounded impossible. Yet, the idea of changing national opinion, of opening that dialog… That was appealing.

  Elliot stretched across the table. “Does that sound like something you’d like to be a part of, Lance?”

  “Yes. I mean, yes, but…” Lance grabbed his wine and took another long sip.

 
“But what?” Elliot tilted his head as his gaze bored into Lance.

  Lance’s cheeks warmed under the intensity of that stare. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “But that issue is pretty polarizing. It might not get you to the next round.”

  Susan leaned in. “Yes, that’s what I thought, that maybe—”

  Elliot cut her off with a stern glance before he refocused on Lance. “It’s a gamble. One I’m willing to take. One I think we should take. I like you, Lance. I really do. From the moment I met you, I thought, that’s my guy. My fixer.”

  He stood as if the matter was concluded and offered his hand. “Join my team, Lance. I saw your case studies online. You got the chops to do what needs doing. You wouldn’t be in my home if you didn’t. Just wasn’t sure I’d like you.”

  Shocked, Lance stood and took Elliot’s hand.

  Elliot smiled. “But I do. “

  What had Lance said that made him sound so appealing? All he could think about were the negatives. He didn’t feel qualified for the offer, but Lance seized it all the same. “I like you too, sir.”

  “Elliot.”

  Lance grinned. “Elliot. Sounds like we’re a team.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “Senator, good to see you. And your lovely wife?” Standing on the doorstep of his offices, Lance held out his hand. His office was in a quiet little house off Sixth Street near Mopac in a fashionably gentrified part of town. Up and down the block, numerous law firms and retail outlets nestled in renovated homes like the one Lance leased.

  Lance wasn’t sure why Elliot insisted on meeting the team. In his many years in the business, no one else had asked who made up Team Lance. Lance figured their backgrounds were being checked.

  “I’m afraid we’ve lost Susan to that art gallery up the way. You’ll have to forgive her for skipping out. Her first passion is shopping, and she knows this is just a boring meet and greet.” Elliot beamed. A cloud passed overhead, casting Elliot’s face in shadow, but his teeth gleamed in the early afternoon light. “I’ll be honest. She didn’t see the point in coming. I think she was just looking for an excuse to ditch.”