Georgetown Academy, Season One

by Schwartz, Alyssa Embree

  “Hey,” she said, motioning him inside. “Thanks for coming by.”

  Brooks stepped into the foyer, carefully brushing off his dark leather Ralph Lauren boots on the mat.

  “You have an interesting assortment of music on there,” he said, the amusement evident in his voice as he handed back her iPod. “The whiny indie-folksy pop came as no surprise. But I wasn’t aware Katy Perry had that many songs. Or J. Lo for that matter.”

  She giggled. “They’re very talented. And, anyway, I have a lot of other stuff on there.”

  “Like your extensive gangster rap collection? I had no idea you had such a firm stake in the East Coast/West Coast battle.”

  Taryn flashed him a Westside sign. “By the way, thank you for the upgrade on the flight. Miss Goldberg really appreciated it, too.”

  He shrugged. “It was no trouble. Did you get home from the airport okay?”

  “Yeah,” she paused slightly. “Gabe picked me up.”

  Brooks straightened up, his jaw clenching. “Glad to see he took a break from his busy schedule perusing man jewelry to take a little responsibility.”

  “Yeah…” she replied vaguely. She wasn’t quite sure how to deliver the news to Brooks.

  “What?” he asked, instantly sensing her unease.

  “It’s just…Gabe and I actually broke up. When I got home,” she said. Surprise flashed over his face.

  “Are you okay?” He watched her intently, as if trying to get a read on how upset she was about it. She thought for a moment.

  “I will be. I mean, breaking up’s never fun, but I’m kind of one of those people who believe everything happens for a reason.”

  “Of course you are.” A small, smile played on his lips.

  “So, anyway…yeah, it’s over.”

  “Would it be too much of a blatant lie for me to say I’m sorry?” His smile had transformed into a smirk.

  “Yes,” Taryn said, with a playful swat that was slightly difficult being that she was propped up on crutches.

  “Well, then…now that you’re happily, joyfully broken up—”

  “I wouldn’t exactly use the word joyfully…”

  “Go with it. Now that you’re single—”

  But before he could continue, Taryn’s dad entered the foyer, his six-foot frame poured into a charcoal gray suit.

  “Tare-Bear, your mom and I need to—” He stopped when he saw Brooks in the doorway, instinctively flashing him the charismatic smile he was known for. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had a friend over.”

  “Yeah…” Taryn said, flicking her eyes back to the hallway so her father could get the hint to leave them alone. Usually, he was pretty good about things like that, always giving Taryn as much privacy as she needed.

  But instead, he remained standing, his dark brown eyes latching on hers. “Your mom and I really need to speak with you about something.” His tone was uncharacteristically serious, though he was tapping his foot softly on the floor the way he always did when he was excited before he delivered a speech or went to a campaign rally.

  “No problem, Congressman Reyes,” Brooks replied, aptly reading the situation. “I was just leaving.” He extended his arm to shake Taryn’s father’s hand, surprising both him and Taryn before giving Taryn a subtle wink that escaped her dad’s notice.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, still wondering what it was he was about to say before her father interrupted.

  Halfway out the door, Brooks turned back to her. “See you later, Tare-Bear.”

  She could kill her dad for using that nickname in front of Brooks. He would never let her live it down. But her father had barely heard Brooks, as he stared at a family photo her mother had hung above the large modern entry table, deeply engrossed in thought.

  “So, what is it, Dad?” Taryn asked, impatiently, once she had shut the door.

  “Let’s go in the kitchen,” he replied, helping guide her with her crutches.

  Her mother was already there, sitting at the round table, her long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, still wearing her yoga clothes from her lesson the previous hour. She gave Taryn a nervous smile as she walked in, squeezing her hand excitedly as Taryn sat down.

  “What’s going on?” Taryn asked, biting her lip, nervously.

  Her father finally sat down next to her and began to talk. When he finished, she was speechless. Because there was a very distinct possibility that her life would never be the same again. And she couldn’t say a word about it to anyone yet.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sunday, 3:45 p.m.

  Brinley picked through the assortment of fresh pastries Paula, her family’s chef, had set out on the counter, her mind wandering to how hot Shane had looked when he broke up the fight last night. Which inevitably led to her remembering him kissing her neck in the hospital moments before she told him it was better if they never spoke again. She frowned and rewound her thoughts back to the fight scene.

  Though she had tried as hard as she could to keep thoughts of him from running through her mind, they’d been peppering her all day. But hopefully that would go away soon. Because after all, it was just a fling. Was she seriously going to date someone who didn’t even know the top thirty lobbying groups, let alone wield any family connections to them?

  Her mother swept in as she settled on a blueberry muffin. “Brinley, darling. Take whatever you want. I have to meet with the caterers in here in a few moments,” she said, giving her a small smile, as if they were sharing some inside joke. Katherine had greeted her at the door earlier that day with a hug of approval, having already heard from Kyle Price’s mother that the two had become close on the trip. God knows what she would be doing if she knew about Shane. Though omniscient Brooks had somehow figured out about her fling with him (which he had informed her of at the hospital and had been teasing her mercilessly about ever since), he had thankfully kept it between them. He was, after all, a master at discretion. And Brinley couldn’t help but think she had covered her tracks rather nicely, too, the thought of having pulled one over her mother filling her with perverse pride.

  “The caterers?” Brinley asked, grabbing one extra muffin and trying to remember which soiree her parents were hosting this week.

  “For the party. Your father is expecting the Judiciary Committee to give Gail the seal of approval tomorrow and that the Senate will easily push it through from there.” Though Senator Mills had launched a campaign against Gail, Thomas Madison had fought back, courting Senators that needed to be wooed, cajoling those he had power over and calling in every favor he had. If everyone voted as anticipated, it appeared she would have the numbers to pull it off, thus preserving her father’s winning streak. Never had he taken on a client and had them lose, whether they were seeking a Senate seat, a cabinet position or now, the Supreme Court. “Assuming the Senate votes on it quickly enough, we’ll do the event this Friday.”

  She was referring, Brinley now realized, to the inevitable victory party her parents always threw after one of her father’s triumphs, where her parents would work the room proudly and pretend they didn’t notice Brinley sipping Dom with the other guests. Thank god she had been at Sagebrush during the party to celebrate Mike Lim’s chairmanship position. She could have never faked her way through that one no matter how much Dom she drank.

  She ambled into the foyer on the way back to her room, when Brooks strolled in the front door with a grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face.

  “What are you so happy about?” she asked him.

  “Nothing,” he replied, but before she could pester him about it further, her phone beeped with a notification. She quickly clicked her email open, hoping for one brief second that it was from Shane even though she hadn’t even given him her email address.

  “Is that from your lumberjack?” he asked.

  “Shane is not a lumberjack!” she hissed, aware of her mother’s presence in the next room.

  “He wears flannel,” Brooks said, as if that decid
ed it all.

  She was about to retort when she saw that the email wasn’t from Shane, but from Ashley Blair, the girl Weston had allegedly drugged at Sidwell. Brinley almost deleted it — now that Ellie had seen the light about Weston, she really had no need for the girl — but the first line of the email drew her in, and by the second, she couldn’t put it down.

  Moments later, Brinley was dragging her laptop to her gilded canopy bed so she could read the email again, focusing on every word.

  Ashley had relayed the entire story in her email to Brinley. The part about Weston offering her a Tylenol for her headache at the party. The part about going from feeling normal to hallucinating. About being rushed to the hospital and finding drugs in her system. And about how she told everyone what Weston had done only to realize no one believed her.

  But that wasn’t where the story ended.

  Because Ashley wasn’t okay with letting Weston get away with it. So, she began the process of filing a lawsuit.

  And that’s when Gail Morris began harassing her. She called Ashley several times. Dropped in on her once as she was leaving school. And each time, she told Ashley she’d never win. That she had lots of close friends who were judges in the D.C. court system who would personally make sure of it. And so not only would Ashley lose, but she would be forever branded a liar in the forum of public opinion. Ashley began having panic attacks and ultimately, decided to drop the case. She thought that maybe it was better to move on.

  Until she saw Gail Morris had been nominated for Supreme Court Justice. Brinley’s eyes fell to the end of the email, re-reading her words.

  I couldn’t believe the same woman who had bullied me into silence was now going to become one of the most powerful people in the country. And I’ve never regretted my decision not to move forward more. But what am I supposed to do? It’s one powerful woman’s word against mine.

  Brinley leaned back, her mind spinning as she debated her next move. The Washington Life Magazine proofs on her desk with its Photoshopped-to-perfection images staring back at her only reinforced her family’s expectations of her: To bury this piece of information so that no one ever found it, ensuring that her father come out a winner. After all, right or wrong didn’t really matter as long as the Madisons stayed on top. It was the way Brinley herself liked to play the game, scoffing at anyone who willingly stacked the deck against themselves by trying to adhere to pesky moral codes. But, in this instance, she wasn’t choosing between the Madisons and some deserving enemy. In this case, her father was representing the enemy. Again. And there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it.

  As the sinking sensation in her stomach began to permeate her entire body, Brinley instinctively made her way to her closet, specifically to the Miu Miu shoebox that remained in the back corner. Was it possible her parents hadn’t completely cleared out her stash? It wasn’t like anyone knew all her hiding spots. She opened the box to find a half a bottle of Adderall pills inside, beckoning to her. She could pop one—just to take the edge off—and figure this Ashley Blair mess out later.

  But as Brinley toyed with the cap, she knew she was fooling herself. This issue wasn’t going to solve itself after one pill. And then where would she be?

  She resolutely took the bottle to the bathroom, dumping the pills into the toilet, and as she watched them swirl away, an idea struck her.

  Fortunately for Ashley, Brinley knew some pretty powerful women of her own. And if her father had no problem inadvertently screwing her over to do what he needed to do, then Brinley felt no qualms at doing the same to him. After all, it was just business.

  An hour later, she was seated across from Marilyn Walker, in the cozy confines of her Senate office. Brinley had refused to meet her at home, for fear that Ellie would be there, and as she had explained on the phone to Marilyn, this was something she wanted to keep private. She’d even had to endure the horrors of a common yellow taxi because she didn’t want D.D. reporting where she’d been. She smoothed her Thakoon knit skirt, hoping the stench of commoners hadn’t clung to it.

  “You have a meeting with the new head of AIPAC to prep for at seven,” Jasmine, Marilyn’s chief-of-staff, said, with a look toward Brinley that suggested she was taking up precious amounts of Senator Walker’s valuable time.

  “Thanks, Jasmine,” Marilyn replied, dismissing her. As soon as the door shut, she turned to Brinley, seriously.

  “Brinley, what is this about? You call me and say it’s an emergency, but that I can’t tell Ellie. What’s going on? Is she okay?” Marilyn’s eyes filled with worry.

  “Yes. She’s fine.”

  Marilyn leaned back, puzzled. “Well, then…”

  “I’m here because I didn’t know what else to do. I have information. About Gail and Weston Morris.”

  Marilyn said nothing, waiting for Brinley to continue. It was the same tactic Brinley herself had used with Portia. Force the other person to put all their cards on the table.

  Brinley handed Marilyn the print-out she had made of Ashley’s email.

  When Marilyn finished reading it, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. “I don’t know what to make of this, Brinley. Who is this girl? How do you know it’s true?”

  “Believe me, it is,” Brinley said. “What reason would she have to lie about it?”

  “People make untrue allegations every day.”

  “Fine,” Brinley agreed. “But what if it is true?”

  “We’re in the eleventh hour. The Judiciary Committee is set to clear Gail tomorrow to a vote in the Senate and without any hard evidence, I don’t feel right going off the hearsay of one person.”

  Brinley shifted in her chair. There was one ace still up her sleeve.

  “Ellie told you she and Weston aren’t seeing each other anymore, right?”

  “Yes,” Marilyn said, looking puzzled by the change in direction.

  “She didn’t tell you the real reason why. He tried to drug her. On the ski retreat.”

  Marilyn swallowed. “Brinley, if this is—”

  “Ellie is my best friend. You know I wouldn’t make this up.”

  Marilyn paused, digesting this. “I can’t believe she wouldn’t tell me,” she finally said quietly.

  “She didn’t want to upset you. She knows you’ve been supporting Gail and she didn’t want you to feel guilty about it.”

  Now Marilyn almost looked like she was going to cry. Generally, Brinley felt wildly uncomfortable around adults showing emotion, but there was something oddly touching about Marilyn’s teary eyes. Brinley tried to imagine her own mother crying about something and couldn’t.

  Marilyn dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, thoughtful for a moment, until she suddenly snapped out of her chair and began pacing.

  “Why did you come to me?”

  “Because I knew you’d do the right thing. Or at least try to.”

  Marilyn nodded, seeming to accept this, though of course, it wasn’t the whole truth. If information was power, then this little tidbit could give Marilyn the chance to rise up past the photo incident and Mike Lim drama and come back out on top. And whether her father agreed or not, someone in the Madison family owed her that.

  “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Marilyn said. “I don’t feel right about going public with this without more proof. But I’m going to have Jasmine investigate this tonight. And if she finds anything resembling hard evidence that Gail illegally used her power to threaten this girl, then I will personally take this on and make sure everyone knows it. Deal?”

  Brinley nodded. She didn’t love leaving it unsettled, but no one was more competent than Jasmine. She could find the needle in the proverbial haystack and still have time to sew an entire clothing line with it. If anyone could discover something of value, it would be her.

  Brinley knocked on the cherry-red door twenty minutes later, her heart racing. Usually, Brinley loved confrontation, whether it was calling out one of Wonkette’s offensive comments on Twitter
or challenging anyone who dared to suggest that she wasn’t directly related to James Madison. But this was different. She heard the patter of footsteps, and the clicking of the lock. Finally, Ellie swung the door open, a blanket draped over her shoulders and a half-empty bag of peanut-butter filled pretzels in her hand. Seriously, she snacked on the most revolting food when she was depressed.

  “Hey, Brin,” Ellie said, the surprise evident in her mopey voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ellie, I have something to tell you,” Brinley told her quickly. Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid.

  “Yeah, I know. I was wondering when you were going to come clean.” She knew? Brinley paused, wondering how to proceed now.

  “You know…who leaked the photo of you and Gabe?” Brinley asked tentatively.

  “What?” Ellie looked up at her, genuine confusion etched on her face. Whatever it was she thought Brinley was about to admit to her, it wasn’t that. “That’s what you want to tell me?”

  “Yeah,” Brinley replied. “What did you think I was going to tell you?”

  “The truth about what you were doing that night in Stowe when you said you were with Sarah Corliss.”

  Brinley pursed her lips. She had hoped once she got Portia off her back and cut ties with Shane, she’d be off the hook. She forgot Ellie had caught her in the fib, as well.

  Now she was staring at Brinley expectantly.

  “You caught me,” Brinley replied with a put-on casual smile. “I was out with Kyle Price.” Though part of her was dying to tell Ellie all about Shane, just to have someone to talk to about it all, the other part of her knew it was better to keep her story straight. If Portia and everyone else assumed she had been with Kyle, there was no reason to confuse it more now. Things got leaked that way.

  “Kyle Price? Really?” Ellie said, motioning for Brinley to come inside.

  “Yeah, but…it wasn’t a big deal.”

  They nestled into the two wingback chairs next to the front window. Brinley took a deep breath and attempted her confession again.