“It’s not good to leave things to chance. Scripted might be stilted, but at least there’s no surprises.” Brinley flashed her gold-flecked eyes up to Taryn. “For instance, if they ask you what you think about your father’s chance at vice president, you say ‘I think he’d make the best vice president this country has ever seen.’”
Patrick nodded enthusiastically. “Smart, Brinley. Simple. Clean. No harm, no foul.”
“Or if they ask you something weird, like about that poll between you and Ellie, just deflect,” Brinley continued. “When in doubt, you can never go wrong with a firm ‘No comment.’ If you want, Sarah Corliss is having a house party tonight. You can come with me and practice.”
“I think Taryn can handle a few softball questions,” Brooks interrupted.
“I can, actually,” Taryn replied, getting fed up with the conversation. “And I do better off-the-cuff than with forced lines.” Taryn was not a natural-born actress. In fact, she was probably the only person in history to be born in Los Angeles and fail drama class. Being someone other than herself was really difficult for her.
“I know my father will agree with me,” she added. “He and my mom are pretty big on all of us expressing our true selves. I’m not going into that event with planted sound bites.”
“But at what expense?” Patrick asked.
“You heard her,” Brooks said. “Her father would like her to retain some level of autonomy on this and he is our client.” He gave them both an extremely self-satisfied grin. As much as Taryn would love to believe he was fighting on her behalf, it was more likely he was just relishing winning this argument against Brinley and Patrick.
Brooks raised an eyebrow at both of them now. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
Brinley daintily cut into her apple-pear turnover. “Well, there was the matter of wardrobe for tomorrow.”
“I already know what I want to wear,” Taryn replied matter-of-factly, having spent the earlier part of the week doing extensive research on ShopBop. “This amazing Rachel Zoe short, black sequined dress. I’m going to go pick it up after this actually.”
Brinley frowned. “While I’m sure that’s really…cute, maybe you’ll want to try something more regal for this event. Vice presidential daughter-esque. In a red or royal blue…That way when the president sees you, he can easily picture you as potential Second Daughter material as opposed to an airhead or reality TV star.”
“Brinley—” Brooks cut in.
“I’m not saying that’s what she’ll look like necessarily, I’m just giving an example.”
Taryn rolled her eyes. “It’s a nice dress. It’s not like I’m going to show up in the Ke$ha costume I wore last Halloween. Even though it was kind of amazing.”
Brinley and Patrick exchanged a worried glance, though she could swear she saw a quick smile flash across Brooks’s face.
“You guys, I’ve got this,” Taryn assured them. “I promise.”
“I hope so,” Patrick replied. “Because frankly, I’m not convinced in the slightest.”
“Well then I’ll take that as a challenge,” Taryn said, determined not to let his uncertainty get the best of her.
“Call me if you change your mind,” Brinley added. “I can get the girls at Relish to close down the store for us.”
That was one phone call Taryn knew she wouldn’t be making.
Taryn spent the rest of the morning exploring the shops around Logan Circle, picking up not only the dress, which fit her perfectly, but also a few amazing new pairs of shoes. Since her ankle was throbbing a little less each day, she felt it only appropriate to reward herself with some new footwear.
The breakfast that morning had left her just as confused about Brooks as she had been before. She kept thinking back to when Brinley had blatantly suggested he liked her. Was that the truth or just a bratty little sister move?
She was inclined to believe the latter because he had barely uttered a private word to her all morning. As soon as breakfast was over, Taryn had asked Brooks directions to Logan Circle, hoping he’d offer to walk her there, but he merely gave her a few quick instructions, then dashed back upstairs to his father’s office. If he really liked her like Brinley said he did, wouldn’t he have wanted to spend at least a few minutes alone with her?
And as much as she liked him, she kept coming back to the same question. Did she really want to be with a guy who continually toyed with her? Taryn was more the type to be open with her feelings. She thought Brooks was the same way, but clearly she’d misjudged. Maybe it was time to accept the error in her ways and move on. Because this endless cycle of getting her hopes up about him only to have them dashed later was getting too masochistic for her to continue.
Laden with her shopping bags, she made her way down Fourteenth Street, trying to remember the route back to Thomas Madison’s office. She’d been too distracted analyzing the Brooks situation to realize the state streets cut diagonally through the city until she was five blocks in the wrong direction.
Not to mention her ankle was beginning to bother her again and the blue blinking dot on her iPhone put her halfway across the city for some reason.
She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them and started walking in the direction her intuition told her was correct.
As she rounded the corner at the next street, she was relieved to see Thomas Madison’s office building up ahead, a few reporters waiting outside for her father and helpfully marking the entrance for her. She should’ve known her gut was better than the crappy iPhone software any day.
She walked toward the heavy glass doors, giving the press a friendly smile when one of the female reporters called out to her. “Taryn! What do you think? Is the United States ready for a single mother vice president?”
The reporter, the only woman standing among half a dozen men, looked her straight in the eye and Taryn knew she had to be honest in her response. Just because Marilyn was running against her father didn’t mean Taryn needed to throw the entire feminist movement under the bus. “Of course they are,” she replied. “It would be awesome to have a female vice president.”
The reporters suddenly swarmed closer. “More than the first Latino vice president?”
Taryn paused, realizing she was about to get caught in a trap if she wasn’t careful. “I don’t think either one is necessarily better than the other…”
“So you don’t care who the next vice president is?” another reporter asked now, his tape recorder jammed right under her mouth.
“Of course I care!” she replied, feeling the conversation spiral out of control. She was about to try to explain what she meant—that she was firmly in her father’s camp though that didn’t take away from Marilyn’s capability—when Brinley’s words came back to her. When it doubt, you can never go wrong with a firm “No comment.”
“No comment!” Taryn quickly yelled, pushing past the reporters. “No comment!”
By the time Taryn had gotten home, the damage had already been done.
Every news website from the Huffington Post to TMZ to the freaking New York Times had written up articles about Taryn’s gaffe with the headlines proclaiming Alan Reyes’s daughter thought it would be “awesome” to have Marilyn Walker as vice president.
“But why would you even say something like that?” her mother asked her for the tenth time as they huddled together at the round kitchen table, reading the articles on Taryn’s laptop. For once, her mom was sitting still instead of darting around the room in perpetual motion, the gravity of the situation almost forming a crease in her Botoxed forehead.
“I didn’t, Mom. They twisted my words!” Taryn exclaimed. Patrick and Brinley had warned her one wrong answer could ruin everything for her father. She’d been too cocky to listen and now she’d proved them right in spectacular fashion.
“Look at this one,” her mother said, pointing to an article on the Washington Post website. “It says when asked about your father and Marilyn Walker, yo
u said you didn’t think ‘either one was better than the other.’ They put quotes around it.”
“They took it totally out of context,” Taryn protested. Even worse was the photo accompanying every article: Taryn, her arms weighed down with boutique bags as if she was some vapid, clueless girl obsessed with shopping along with ruining her father’s career.
“At least you look cute in the picture,” her mother said, as if that would reassure her. “Those facials we got last month from Kim-Yee really paid off.”
“I don’t think anyone else is going to be noticing that,” Taryn said, watching the Yahoo! headlines continue piling up. Taryn Reyes Pulls Support from Father, Traitor Daughter, Taryn Reyes Wants a Female Vice President…
“I feel so bad,” she added quietly. Thomas Madison had called her father as soon as the story broke, just as he and Taryn were pulling into the driveway. Her dad had told her “everyone makes mistakes,” before letting her out and turning right back around for another long strategizing session. But it didn’t make Taryn feel any better that she might’ve effectively ruined his chance at V.P.
She hung her head, the heavy guilt weighing her skull down, wishing there was some time machine she could step into to change all of this.
“He’ll figure it out,” her mother assured her, though doubt permeated her usual cheerily optimistic tone.
Just then, Taryn’s phone buzzed with a call from Brooks. But she didn’t feel like dealing with him right now. She’d just learned the hard way she took the wrong Madison’s advice earlier that day and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Trying to “be herself” was all fine and good, but look where it had gotten her. It was time to admit she was out of her depth.
She knew what she had to do. She waited until Brooks’s call went to voicemail, then picked up the phone and began to dial Brinley.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saturday, 7:22 p.m.
Evan threw off her boots and stood in front of her tiny closet for exactly five seconds before she grabbed a pale pink blouse with leather trim off a hanger. She never would’ve bought the top in a million years if it hadn’t been for Luke, but she had to admit, it was already her favorite. She threw it over her head and pulled on a pair of black jeggings as quickly as she could, then ungracefully stumbled over her feet as she slipped them back into her tall, flat boots. Luke would’ve insisted she wear heeled boots with this outfit, but what he didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him and heels would most definitely hurt her. She had reverted back to her usual jeans and long sleeve tee for school that day, but she was going to a house party tonight so she might as well step it up since her wardrobe had been upgraded anyway.
She glanced at her watch to see Hunter would be picking her up in five minutes. She had only gotten home from work a second ago because right as she was about to leave, Maura had tasked her with going all the way to Chop’t in Dupont Circle to pick up salads for the staff when there was a Sweet Greens a block away from the office, which would have been perfectly fine with everyone. But ever since her special treatment from Paul Nelson, Maura was hazing her like a freshman pledge.
It was actually the first time Evan had ever gone into Today in Politics on a Saturday, but she agreed to it because she hadn’t been able to go after school yesterday. Her mother had made her feel so guilty for missing the Human Rights Watch phone bank for the Dedication Party that she ended up volunteering to write a bunch of advocacy posts for Global Voices, a human rights organization she had worked for over the summer. She had gone there immediately after school yesterday and had been holed up in their offices until after midnight, working on the letters.
And if she was expecting any reprieve at Today in Politics, she was wrong. Besides the passive-aggressive harassment she was getting from Maura, the day was even crazier than usual because of the array of sound bites coming in from the Reyes camp. When Evan first arrived at work, everyone was abuzz over Taryn’s quotes in which she seemingly threw her support in Marilyn’s corner. But within a few hours of Evan being there, the topic of conversation in the media began to shift, sending the newsroom into another frenzy. Several influential Hispanic leaders were suddenly being very chatty, calling into news shows and granting interviews to the media, all suggesting if Alan Reyes was made veep, he would most likely ensure the Hispanic vote for the presidency if he ran again in four years. It was a perfectly timed move most likely orchestrated by Thomas Madison to divert attention and put a Band-Aid on the Taryn situation. Once the pundits started discussing the idea that the much sought-after Hispanic vote could be a lock in the next election, everyone was more interested in talking about that than Taryn’s faux pas. It was impossible to tell, though, how much damage had been done by her comments in the first place. It’s not like the vice presidency position was up for a public vote, but there was a possibility Taryn’s comments could have bumped the president. Or he could have ignored them completely. The mystery surrounding his decision was what was probably making the media so schizophrenic with their coverage in the first place.
Evan glanced in the mirror, debating whether or not to take down her ponytail, when her phone shrilled from its perch on the dresser. She saw it was Gabe and quickly answered.
“Hey, do you need the address for the party?” she asked, pulling out her rubber band and running a brush through her hair.
“Sorry, Ev. I’m not going to be able make it.”
Her heart sank. She wasn’t used to going to these kinds of parties and she’d been freaking out about it all day. Almost everyone who was going to be at Sarah Corliss’s house was in the elite popular crowd, and she didn’t want any of them to think Evan assumed just because she was dating Hunter, she thought she was now instantly a part of their crew. The only reason she told Hunter she wanted to go when he mentioned it earlier that day was because she knew he wanted to go. As soon as she said yes, she texted both Ellie and Gabe to see if they were going. But Ellie was undecided and now Gabe was bailing. Obviously Hunter would be there with her, but she didn’t want him to feel like he had to babysit her, and without Gabe or Ellie, she had no clue who she would talk to.
“Are you sure you can’t stop by for a little bit?” Evan asked desperately.
“It’s my mom. I feel really bad leaving her right now. She’s pretty upset over those comments Marilyn made about her.”
Evan put her brush down, giving Gabe her full attention and feeling bad for being selfish, especially over something as trivial as a party. Marilyn’s sound bite had to be hard for him on so many levels.
“I’m really sorry, Gabe. I totally understand.”
“Can you believe Marilyn went after my mom like that?” His usually laidback voice was tinged with anger.
Evan swallowed. Considering how many different ways Marilyn had been attacked by Gabe’s father the past few weeks, Evan wasn’t surprised at all. But she also sympathized for Gabe because it wasn’t fair he had to deal with the aftermath.
“You can’t take it personally. It’s just politics.” Normally Gabe shared that opinion, but now that his mom had been brought into the picture, clearly he was having a hard time reconciling it all.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know,” he said ambiguously. “Anyway, have fun at the party. Take a picture if you do a keg stand.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Evan laughed. She wasn’t exactly sure what doing a keg stand was, but she assumed it had something to do with drinking beer.
She hung up and raced out of her room, bounding down the narrow staircase of her townhouse and into the cozy earth-toned living room where her parents were reading side-by-side on the mocha-colored sofa. They both looked up from their books when she entered.
“You just got home. Where are you off to now?” her mother asked, removing her reading glasses, a hint of disapproval already in her eyes.
“Just to a house party,” Evan answered casually, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Although it was kind of poin
tless considering she had only been to two other house parties this entire school year. Or ever for that matter. But since her parents had already been on her case about not changing now that she was with Hunter, the last thing she wanted to do was add fuel to the fire.
“Aren’t you going to a party tomorrow night? Do you really need to go two parties in one weekend?” her father piped up, indicating this would be a longer discussion by dog-earing his book and closing it. Evan tried to suppress the long sigh that was dying to escape.
“They aren’t the same thing. Tomorrow night is an event at the Capitol and tonight is a group of people getting together at someone’s house,” she said, trying to keep her bubbling irritation under control.
“I just thought you were finishing your Macbeth essay tonight,” her father added, instantly playing on Evan’s guilt. The truth was her Macbeth essay was nagging at her. It was due Monday and she had finished her first draft the night she flaked on going to the movies with Ellie and Gabe, but she needed another good pass before she was on to the proofreading stage. She had spent so many Saturday nights, though, staying home and doing homework that a night out with Hunter sounded a lot more appealing for a change of pace.
“I have all day tomorrow.” Even if the essay was bothering her, she didn’t appreciate how they were making her feel like a D student instead of a straight-A student.
Her mother was about to put her reading glasses back on when she suddenly stopped and asked, “Wait, whose house are you going to?”
“Sarah Corliss. She goes to Sidwell.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Have we met her before?”
Evan shook her head. “No, you guys haven’t. But I have.”
“I don’t know how comfortable I feel with you going to a party at some strange girl’s house who we don’t even know,” her mother replied and her father nodded effusively like her mom had taken the words right out of his mouth. “Are her parents going to be there? Maybe I should call her mother.”
Georgetown Academy, Season One Page 48