“Nothing,” Ellie quickly replied. “So then what happened?”
“Then she turns straight to the camera and goes, ‘Listen to me, America. What is the point of educating our daughters if we don’t want them to actually do anything with that education?’”
“Well, that’s pretty cool,” Ellie had to admit, feeling a surge of feminist sisterhood with her mom. No wonder the girls at G.A. were all loving her mother right now.
“Pretty cool? The response has been phenomenal. The entire Internet is buzzing about her. The National Organization of Women issued a statement of support, twenty different senators immediately jumped on the bandwagon and are going to do the nightly news circuits to talk about it. She’s turned this thing on its head.”
The pride Ellie felt for her mother in her heart waged war with the pit of dread in her stomach. Why did her mother have to bring Gabe’s mom into this? Couldn’t she have called out someone else—anyone else? And how upset would Gabe be when he inevitably heard about it?
There was only one way to find out.
As soon as Hunter left for basketball practice, Ellie pulled out her cell phone and called Gabe. It rang once and then went to voicemail. Ellie tried not to read too much into it. Gabe told her yesterday he was going to a Hanging Chad band practice at four today to check things out and see how he meshed with the group. Maybe he wasn’t answering because he was prepping for it.
“Hey, it’s me,” she said into the phone. “Call me.”
She hung up, forcing herself to be optimistic. Wasn’t he the one who was always telling her they needed to look beyond their parents’ differences? Maybe he wouldn’t care about this at all.
But eight hours later, Gabe still hadn’t called back and Ellie’s optimism had completely dissolved. As she slipped between her ice blue sheets, she finally acknowledged whatever it was that had begun between her and Gabe had just been ruined by their parents yet again.
CHAPTER SIX
Saturday, 8:11 a.m.
Taryn hopped over the piles of clothing springing up from her floor as she made her way to her closet in search of the purple sheer floral button-down she’d bought last week. She and her father were due at Thomas Madison’s office within the hour for a strategic meeting and she was nowhere near ready.
After Marilyn Walker’s vocal defense of working mothers everywhere, Ellie’s mom had again been the top story on all the nightly shows the previous evening, but this time the pundits had stopped bashing her and were proclaiming her as “bold” and the “best choice” the president could make for vice president. Truth be told, Taryn had always thought the single mother debate was a bit unfair.
But as she watched the video of Marilyn calling out Gabe’s mother on an endless loop on last night’s cable shows and listened to everyone dissect the choices Gabe’s mom had made in her life, she couldn’t help but wonder how Gabe was taking it all. That’s what was weird about dating someone and then breaking up. Because they’d spent so much time together the last few weeks, Taryn knew first-hand how close Gabe was to his mother. She’d seen the way he’d joke around with her on the phone, sharing the same wry sense of humor. She’d listened to his stories about how he barely saw his dad since he moved to D.C., but that his mom had taken pains to make their place here feel like home. And most of all, she knew how protective he was of her, even occasionally cutting short his plans with Taryn if he knew his mom was home by herself because she’d been lonely ever since moving back to D.C., away from her closest friends in Phoenix. Taryn wished she could check up on how he was doing in the wake of Marilyn’s comments and offer a little moral support. But their break-up was still so fresh and awkward she couldn’t quite bring herself to call him. Especially since it was Ellie’s mother who’d made the remarks. There was too much history between Ellie and Gabe that Taryn would probably never fully get. Better for her to steer clear of whatever new storm it might have created between them.
And of course, Gabe’s mother wasn’t the only victim of Marilyn’s remarks. As a result of her resurgence in the press, Taryn’s father had been toppled from his front-runner status in the media. Thomas Madison insisted on this morning strategy session with her dad to “regroup” and suggested he bring Taryn along so she could have breakfast with Brinley. The idea was for seasoned D.C. pro Brinley to give Taryn, still relatively new to the District, some pointers on how to deal with the media in the next few crucial days.
Taryn felt vaguely insulted by the whole thing—but heard her father stressing to her mom last night about his slimming chances and vowed to help him however she could. Even if it meant sharing another meal with Brinley.
Finally, she found the top she was looking for jam-packed on a hanger between her furry vests and belted sweaters. She pulled it on, pairing it with her tight cream Current/Elliot corduroys and an Alisa Michelle astrological pendant necklace.
“Hi, honey,” her mother said as she popped her head in the room. “This came for you this morning.”
She handed Taryn a small FedEx packet before fluttering down the hallway to wake up Taryn’s younger siblings. Taryn examined the envelope and saw the address written in the sender box belonged to her best friend from Los Angeles, Lauren. A smile forming on her face, she tore into the package, revealing another smaller envelope. Across the front of it, Lauren had scrawled…Thought these would help you relax…xx Lo
Just yesterday she had told Lauren how stressful the V.P. race was becoming with Marilyn’s resurgence. She opened the envelope to find a handful of small, wrapped candies. Upon closer inspection, she saw the telltale 4:20 logo and a laugh escaped from her throat. Lauren’s brother had a medicinal marijuana prescription that allowed him to purchase all sorts of goodies from the thousands of pot dispensaries around L.A. Still, she couldn’t believe Lauren had the balls to FedEx them across the country. Surely a few federal laws had been broken in the process.
She didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because her father’s voice boomed up the staircase.
“Taryn! It’s time to go!”
She quickly tossed the envelope on her desk and laced up her suede taupe ankle boots.
“Coming!” she called back, though her eyes darted back to the pot candies for a brief second. Though she wouldn’t dare, the thought of popping one of those before her breakfast with Brinley was definitely tempting.
Twenty minutes later, she and her father were riding the impressive marble-paneled elevator as it zoomed up fourteen stories to the penthouse floor that housed Thomas Madison’s Farragut Square office.
As the elevator continued propelling them upward, she briefly wondered what Ellie thought about her supposed best friend advising Taryn, then decided she needed to spend less time focusing on what Ellie was doing. Just because the entire school was intent on pitting them against each other in the ridiculous D.C. Dish polls that kept popping up every day didn’t mean Taryn had to buy into it all. Though at first she’d checked the poll out of curiosity (and discovered she was actually keeping up with Ellie neck-and-neck), she stopped looking at them after the first day. It was just too competitive of a vibe for her.
The elevator dinged, letting them out in the lobby of Thomas Madison’s office, the panoramic view of D.C. visible from every angle. Even though it was a Saturday, there were several aides scurrying through the classically decorated space accented with plush, forest green carpeting and dark wooden paneling.
“Alan, welcome!” Thomas boomed as he entered the lobby, flanked by Brinley, who was dressed in a demure royal blue silk blouse with a black skirt and tights, and to Taryn’s surprise, Brooks. He looked impeccable as usual in khakis and a purple cable-knit cashmere sweater no one else would be able to pull off quite so effortlessly. A light gray-checked collared shirt peeked out from the sweater, no doubt kept perfectly in place by his monogrammed collar stays. Taryn ran a quick hand through her hair, tousling her waves, wishing she had given herself a once over in the lobby mirror.
�
��Are you coming to breakfast, too?” she asked him.
Their relationship, or friendship, or whatever you could call what was happening between them, had begun to confuse Taryn since their family dinner at the Madison’s house. On the one hand, Brooks remained politely charming to her all week. He’d often walk her to class or to her car after school since her ankle wasn’t fully healed yet, sometimes lacing their dialogue with the flirtatious comments and teasing banter she loved to engage in with him. And then other times, the conversation from him was more stiff or formal, as if he were holding back, or worse yet, distracted or bored. And though the two of them had become frequent flirty texters after their trip to Stowe, in the last few days, he’d only sent texts having to do with their fathers’ work together.
It was bizarre, especially considering he’d pursued her so unapologetically in Stowe, even though she was dating Gabe at the time. It had occurred to her that Brooks’s feelings toward her might have changed. That maybe he’d only liked her in Stowe because she was dating Gabe. He did seem like the type of guy to want what he couldn’t have.
As if punctuating her thoughts, Brooks shot her an enigmatic half-smile from where he stood next to her father that sent a thrill through her body and irritated her at the same time.
“I thought I’d join you for a bit,” he answered, casually.
“Three for the price of one, right, Alan?” Thomas said, proudly. Just then, Thomas’s intern, Patrick, strode up, carrying a half-dozen file folders, his well-tailored gray suit grazing his black loafers. Taryn could’ve sworn he gave Brinley a once-over that lasted a beat too long.
“I have all the clippings you requested,” he murmured to Thomas.
“Fantastic,” he replied, gently shepherding Alan down the hall to what looked to be a mahogany-paneled war room. “We’ll see you kids later.”
Patrick gave them a quick nod before hustling after Thomas and Alan.
“Shall we?" Brooks said once they’d walked away, extending a hand to help Taryn toward the elevator bank and sending a wave of tingles up her spine. He kept his hand gently on her back even after they’d entered the elevator, and Taryn hoped the attentive Brooks was back for good.
“There’s a good breakfast place at the end of the block,” Brinley said, pressing the down button.
Taryn instantly brightened. “Oh! I saw! Le Pain Quotidien, right?” It was one of her favorite spots in Los Angeles with their organic breads and Gruyere tartines. She had noticed one at the end of the block.
“No,” Brinley replied, almost gagging at the name. “I meant Tabard Inn. I will not eat at Le Pain.”
“Why not?”
“The French roots, the communistic communal tables, their stubborn refusal to serve sodas. It’s un-American,” Brinley declared.
“They are vaguely Marxist,” Brooks agreed with a nod and Taryn had to laugh.
“You guys are crazy,” she told them. “And their Pain au Chocolat is to die for.”
“So…” Brinley began once they were seated at their table at Le Pain. Brinley had given in on the restaurant selection, but purposely lied to the hostess, promising more people were coming to meet them so they could sit alone at the large table. “My dad was thinking I could give you a few pointers before the Dedication Party.”
“Like what?” Taryn asked warily, biting into her chocolate croissant and giving a quick look to Brooks. Though Taryn and Brinley had both quickly sat directly opposite each other at the table, Taryn had hoped Brooks would then slide in next to her. But he had barely looked at her, choosing to sit next to Brinley instead.
“Just some general things to do and say to ensure the night goes smoothly,” Brinley told her. “It’s more important than ever right now. Marilyn has made a total comeback. Now everyone is cheering on single mothers everywhere.”
“I know. But it really was terrible what they were saying about her,” Taryn replied. “My father wouldn’t want to win that way anyhow.”
Brinley looked at Taryn in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“But she is,” Brooks said, an amused smile playing on his lips, finally allowing his eyes to settle on Taryn for a brief second.
Just then, Patrick walked through the door of the restaurant. He exchanged a few words with the girl at the take-out counter, then spotted them and walked over, slipping into the seat next to Taryn.
“What are you doing here?” Brooks asked in a clipped tone almost bordering on rude, though he cloaked it with a smile.
“Apparently, Taryn’s father is a fan of this place as well. Mind if I sit here while I wait for the order I called in?”
Brooks paused as if he were about to get another jibe in, but seemed to think better of it.
“I was just about to give Taryn some tips for getting through the Dedication Party,” Brinley said self-importantly. “If you have any suggestions you’d like to add.”
Now Patrick was going to put his two cents in, too. Taryn was trying to go with the flow, but this whole mentorship struck her as ridiculous. Since when did she need tips for how to survive a party? She loved parties.
“I don’t know why you’re all putting so much pressure on this,” Taryn told them.
“Maybe because your father has fallen grossly behind in the span of twenty-four hours,” Patrick quickly replied. “And if you all don’t bring your A-game tomorrow night, you might just have to accept the fact there’s no beating Marilyn Walker.”
His bluntness surprised Taryn, though it wasn’t completely off-putting. She generally liked getting the truth from people and if that meant it coming in a not-so-pretty package, so be it. She could handle it.
“One wrong move from anyone and you could have a Howard Dean situation on your hands,” Patrick added.
“You mean like that time he cheered?” Taryn asked, remembering the election in which he’d been a frontrunner until a short clip of him yelping in the middle of a campaign speech had become a runaway video sensation. Suddenly he went from candidate to laughingstock.
“Yes, the ‘Dean Scream,’” Brinley replied, taking a sip of coffee. “One small second where he acted on impulse and it cost him a nomination. Plus it pushed his career back five years.”
Brooks snorted. “This is ridiculous. You don’t know Taryn, Patrick. She’s nothing like that mentally unbalanced nut job. The situations are entirely different.”
Taryn flashed him a grateful smile. At least he was on her side for now.
“Well, I know Taryn,” Brinley said. Taryn could have sworn she heard her mutter an “unfortunately” under her breath, but she wasn’t sure. “And the fact remains she needs to be extremely careful with her words and actions right now. Every single thing that happens from now until the president makes his decision matters.”
“I get it,” Taryn replied emphatically. “I’ve been to tons of political functions when my dad was governor of California and did lots of interviews for that matter, too.”
“Yes, but this isn’t some puff piece in the Sacramento Bee by whatever local mom blogger they roped into writing the article for free,” Patrick said, his bluntness again coming to the surface. “I just heard Thomas and your father discussing this upstairs. The event tomorrow night is crucial. It’s a chance for you to make a positive impression on everyone. The entire press corps will be there. All watching you and your family. The president himself will be there.”
A small pit of anxiety popped up in Taryn’s stomach for a split second before she willed it away. This was nothing she couldn’t handle.
“Which is why we need to discuss sound bites for the event,” Brinley interjected. “You need to come off gracious yet focused.”
“Exactly,” Patrick agreed.
“Elegant, but not elitist,” Brinley added, wrinkling her nose at the idea of elitism. Taryn almost had to choke back her green tea at the irony.
“This is the exact reason I came today,” Brooks interrupted, letting his eyes fall on his sister. “I knew you’d
try to take her down the wrong P.R. path. Father wants a victory with this. Don’t get in the way of that.”
Taryn bit her lip. Did that mean he’d only come to breakfast to ensure she was properly prepped as a favor to his dad? Part of her had held out hope he’d come because he actually wanted to spend time with her. But clearly, she was wrong. She let out a small sigh as her eyes wandered to the other tables where the diners were actually eating the pastries as opposed to pretending like they were, the way they did back in L.A.
“There’s nothing less appealing than being silent or stilted,” Brooks said, turning toward Taryn. “You should just be yourself and you’ll be fine.”
“Ugh, that’s easy for you to say. You think everything she does is adorable,” Brinley shot back.
He did? Taryn turned to face Brooks and saw a faint flush overtake his face, though he coughed quickly to cover it. By the time he put his hands down, he looked as unruffled as usual, making Taryn believe that perhaps it had just been an illusion.
“Lots of people do,” he replied. “Have you forgotten Follow the Stars, Brinley?”
He was referring to when Taryn had mistakenly shown up to the annual Follow the Stars event in a Marilyn Monroe costume instead of one of the sparkly dresses the girls typically wore. But instead of being laughed out of the room, Taryn worked it and by the end of the evening, everyone was proclaiming her a trendsetter and that Follow the Stars should be a celebrity-inspired costume ball every year from now on.
Brinley pursed her lips. “I remember.”
“Taryn has a very natural appeal,” Brooks told Patrick in an ambiguous way that left Taryn wondering whether he found her appealing himself or was just speaking objectively. “My father always says if you want to win, you have to let a client’s innate abilities shine. I wouldn’t want to do Alan Reyes a disservice by masking hers.”
Georgetown Academy, Season One Page 47