And as Taryn shifted slightly, Brinley realized who she was talking to. The First Lady.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked, picking up on Brinley’s sudden anxiety.
“Taryn. She’s talking to the First Lady in front of the Jason Lee statue.”
It seemed like she was carrying the conversation off fine, pointing up at the statue and saying something to the First Lady with a small smile. But you never knew.
“Should we go over there?” Brinley asked, tapping her cream manicured nails on the cocktail table.
“You mean before she starts telling the First Lady how much she enjoyed his work in Alvin and the Chipmunks?”
Brinley giggled, though only minutes ago she’d seen the statue of Ethan Allen and discovered he was actually an extremely influential figure in Vermont’s history and not, as she had always assumed, the designer of a cookie-cutter faux-traditional furniture line. “Exactly.”
“As much as I want to, we have to let her sink or swim. Going over there will undermine her credibility. We just have to hope all our work pays off,” he said.
“Or that her sun sign is in perfect harmony with the First Lady’s.”
Patrick laughed, raising an impressed eyebrow at Brinley. “You’re pretty funny.”
“I try,” she replied, aware this was heading into flirty territory and not completely sure how she felt about that.
“So, which of these high school guys’ hearts are you toying with at the moment?” he asked, looking up and scanning the room. “Weren’t you with Graham Wells for a while?”
“I was,” she told him, “until his father lost the election in a landslide. I used to have a strict a requirement that the guys I dated be high enough on the totem pole to merit a Secret Service detail.”
Patrick chuckled. “So when his father lost the security detail, you kicked him to the curb.”
“Basically,” Brinley replied, preferring that story to the truth, which was that she caught him in bed with Lexie Valentino at the Rookie Party earlier this year.
“A rule like that must limit the dating options, though,” he said, letting his eyes settle on hers for a moment, testing the waters.
Brinley wavered. He wasn’t as ruggedly good-looking as Shane, but he was handsome in a more polished way. And he definitely wasn’t as sweet as Shane, but he was the one who was here. He was the one who made sense for her. She should at least give him a chance, right?
“I’ve relaxed it a bit lately,” she said, tilting her head toward his and doing her patented lean-in-and-arm-graze move, “for people I deem worthy.”
“And how does one know if he falls into that category?” Patrick asked with a wry smile, moving even closer to her, their bodies almost touching.
She looked up at him with a mock-innocent smile. “Is there someone specific who’s curious?”
“There might be.”
His face was just inches from hers now. Was he going to kiss her? It would be forward. But Brinley was curious how he’d score in that department…
“Brinley, a word please.” Brooks’s voice snapped her out of the moment.
“I’m busy,” she answered without looking up.
“Now.”
“It’s fine,” Patrick said, straightening up and waving Brinley forward.
“That’s great, but I wasn’t asking your permission,” Brooks replied.
Patrick smiled, as if letting Brooks have the last laugh had no effect on him.
“I was just going to the bar.” Patrick gave Brinley a quick wink as he passed.
“Need I remind you Patrick works for our father?” Brooks asked, once he’d left.
“So?”
“So that means you should keep your relationship with him professional.”
Brinley scoffed. “He’s not a client. And he’s hardly a typical employee. Daddy and his father were fraternity brothers. They’d be thrilled if we dated.” Unlike Shane, a tiny voice inside her head reminded her. Another point in the Patrick column.
“I never thought I’d say this after Graham Wells, but your taste has gone to appallingly new lows between that townie you hooked up with in Stowe and now Patrick.”
“Oh, please. You don’t like him because he kicked your ass on a beach five years ago,” Brinley retorted. “And your real problem isn’t with us anyway.”
“Really?” Brooks asked condescendingly. “And what is my problem?”
“The fact that, for reasons that entirely escape me, you’ve been pining for weeks after a girl whose natural inclination is to wear hair glitter. So get the stick out of your ass and stop raining on my parade.”
Suddenly, Brinley spotted Ellie a few feet away. She was dressed in an impressively fashion-forward asymmetrical fuchsia dress, her chestnut hair blown out sleek instead of curling into waves at the bottom like it usually did, and she was scanning the party like she was looking for someone.
“Ellie, hey!” Brinley called out, giving her a warm smile. Bringing her into the conversation would at least get Brooks temporarily off her back.
Ellie wavered for a second, as if there were someone else she had been heading to go talk to, but ultimately veered in their direction.
“Brinley, we need to talk,” she said crisply, her emerald eyes blazing with purpose. Brinley’s guard immediately rose. Maybe calling her over wasn’t a good idea after all.
Between Evan and Hunter, she should’ve realized it was only a matter of time until they figured out what had happened with the mistaken jacket and told Ellie about the pot candy, especially with Hunter here tonight. His family had arrived into the Rotunda just as the Madisons were finishing the red carpet. Hunter had avoided the press all together, beelining for the party entrance, keeping his head down and ignoring the barrage of questions the reporters had yelled his way about the accident.
“What did Brinley do now?” Brooks asked Ellie, already three steps ahead as usual.
“Nothing, Brooks,” Brinley quickly replied. “Now why don’t you deal with your issues and stop meddling in mine?”
Brooks inhaled and Brinley immediately knew she had taken the wrong tactic. Now he’d want to argue with her and the longer he stuck around, the better chance Ellie would spill the news in front of him.
But suddenly, Brooks seemed to spot someone across the room.
“Maybe I will,” he told her defiantly before walking away through the center of the party.
Ellie stood before her, staring expectantly. But Brinley wasn’t ready to cop to anything, choosing instead to open with a classic diversion tactic.
“Did I tell you I love that dress, Elle?”
“Listen, Brin. Hunter just told me about what happened with the coat. With Taryn and Evan. He knows the whole story.”
Brinley tilted her head in mock confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on…You’re going to play it that way with me?” Ellie asked, her innate sensitivity rearing its head. Yes, Ellie was her best friend. But for all Brinley knew, Marilyn’s ferocious chief-of-staff, Jasmine, had sent Ellie over with a tape recorder to entrap Brinley and bring down the entire Reyes bid.
“And by the way, there were other mints in the pocket,” Ellie told her.
Brinley had to stop her jaw from dropping. She’d have to find Patrick immediately to let him know. Patrick had thought it best not to say anything to her father about this situation unless it escalated. This new little nugget of intel might now be worth passing along. And the first thing Patrick and her father would want to know was whether Evan planned to go public with the knowledge so they could create a game plan.
Brinley met Ellie’s eyes. “Are you going to say anything?”
Ellie shook her head. “No.” But before Brinley had even finished exhaling in relief, Ellie quickly added, “But Evan might.”
Her tone rang false, though, and Brinley sincerely doubted Evan had the fortitude or connections to bring Taryn down on her own.
“We’ll cross that b
ridge if we come to it then,” she replied sweetly. However, before she could relish in her victory, Shane popped into her mind again, the way he kept doing at the most inopportune moments that evening. More specifically, it was the question of what Shane would think if he knew she had schemed to allow Evan to take the fall for this mess. And the answer wasn’t pleasant. She swallowed.
“Okay, fine,” Ellie replied, a bit more softly. She said nothing more, allowing the subject to be dropped. Which was something Brinley was just as eager to do. She and Ellie were best friends in spite of their family’s political views, and sometimes it made better sense not to talk about it. And in any case, it wasn’t like she was feeling very proud of her actions, either.
“Let’s get some air,” Brinley suggested.
Ellie nodded, and they began making their way toward the double doors that led to the outer hallway.
“So…any other good gossip from tonight?” Brinley asked, venturing a small smile.
“I don’t know…” Ellie replied giving her a sidelong look. “You seem to be talking quite a bit with your dad’s new intern…”
Brinley flushed slightly before catching Ellie smirking wildly at her. What could she say about Patrick? She didn’t even know how she felt about him herself, at least compared to Shane.
“He’s definitely an interesting option,” Brinley eked out when it became apparent Ellie wasn’t going to let it go.
“Option? Is there more than one?” Ellie asked as they pushed out the doors into the cool hallway. “Is it the Shane guy I saw you texting the other day?”
Who was she, Sherlock freaking Holmes?
“Oh, uh, I just meant…” But before she could finish digging herself out of the hole, she caught sight of something she’d ultimately known would one day happen, yet had hoped never to personally see. “Oh. My. God.”
In a small corridor just off the main hall and almost out of view, Brooks and Taryn were kissing like they were starring in their own version of some insipid D.C. romantic comedy.
“What is it?” Ellie asked, turning around and catching sight of them. She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Wow.”
Just when Brinley was starting to slightly enjoy Taryn’s company, she had to go and make out with her brother. Was his hand on her ass? “Ugh, between this and those rancid oyster shooters, I think I’m going to be sick.”
She turned away, walking back toward the entrance to the party, thinking she might try to find Patrick over at the bar when Bernie Sanders, the Vermont senator Shane had been so excited about, exited the room almost colliding into Brinley. Why were there reminders of Shane everywhere?
She did an abrupt one-eighty toward the bathroom, calling out to Ellie that she’d be back later. Right now, she needed some time alone with her thoughts.
Just moments ago, she thought she wanted to kiss Patrick. Now she didn’t know how she felt. If Shane were standing next to him, would Patrick really have a chance? Patrick was clearly the type of guy she was supposed to be with. But she liked Shane in spite of the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be with him. Did that make it matter more?
As she slammed the bathroom door shut behind her, the only thing she knew for sure was that she’d never been more confused in her life.
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CHAPTER NINE
Sunday, 6:51 p.m.
Evan sat on the couch in her family room, staring at a page in her dog-eared copy of Emma, the words blurring together in a jumble as her eyes glazed over. She thought her favorite book would take her mind off the nightmare of last night, but considering she had been reading the same page for an hour, it was clearly not working.
Most of what happened last night she only remembered in fragments like she was recalling a movie she had partially slept through. She had no memory of the actual car crash, but she could conjure up a vague image of a police officer putting her in the back of his cruiser. The cop wouldn’t let Hunter come with her and she knew Hunter had yelled at him because she had a foggy recollection of thinking she had never seen him so angry before. When they finally got to the police station after what seemed like an eternity of driving, she remembered getting very distracted by a Snickers bar in the vending machine, then a few minutes later there was a bright flash that made her want to cover her eyes. But her vision had been playing tricks on her ever since she got in Hunter’s car after the party, so she figured the flash must be some sort of extension of that. A female police officer then walked her into a much smaller room and asked her to pee in a cup, which Evan found so hilarious at the time she did it without question. For a moment, she thought maybe she was at a hospital and not at a police station, but that notion was quickly squashed the second they booked her for a DUI.
That flash was not her mind playing tricks on her. It was from a camera taking her mug shot. And the reason they were asking her to pee in a cup was so they could ascertain what specific drug caused her to ram Hunter’s SUV into a telephone pole because they could tell she was high on something. And the test came back positive for marijuana. At midnight, her parents arrived at the police station to pick up their delinquent daughter and Evan never wanted to see that devastating look of disappointment on either one of their faces ever again. Unfortunately, it was the only expression they seemed to be capable of wearing at this point and she was relieved when they left for the grocery store a few minutes ago so she could at least have a momentary escape from it.
She cradled her neck with her hands as she sank a little deeper into the sofa, the muscles still tight and sore from the accident. Otherwise, she wasn’t in too bad shape, but she shuddered when she thought of the bruises on Hunter’s face from the airbag. They weren’t serious, but the mere idea she caused them made the knot in her throat impossible to swallow.
She heard a car door shut outside and she jumped up to peek out the window. It was Hunter, dressed in a black suit, shutting the door of his rental car and walking toward her townhouse. He had texted her a few minutes ago saying he was stopping by on his way to the Dedication Party. She had obviously opted out of going. The thought of showing her face in front of photographers and reporters when she was already all over the news made her break out in a cold sweat. Hunter had initially told her he wasn’t going to go then either, but an hour ago, he called and said he changed his mind. She had tried to hide her disappointment.
She opened the door for him and winced again at the bruises on his face.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked, immediately pulling her into him.
“Not really,” she answered honestly, sitting back down on the couch. She was so exhausted from the past twenty-four hours that the act of standing was difficult.
“Did Taryn call you back?” He sat down next to her, an urgent seriousness clouding his blue eyes, almost making them look gray.
Evan shook her head, wishing she had a different answer, but Hunter didn’t look surprised at all. He had come over early that morning and they racked their brains to figure out how this whole mess happened. They traced Evan’s every move at the party and she was positive the only thing she consumed were the mints in her pocket right as they were leaving. Fortunately, she hadn’t eaten all of them. She dug the two remaining mints out of the coat pocket and tossed them to Hunter who solved the mystery within seconds. The wrappers were inscribed with a 4:20 logo, which apparently let everyone, except Evan, know they were edible pot candies.
And then she remembered the text she had gotten that morning from Taryn explaining they had switched coats by acc
ident at the party...meaning the mints were most likely hers. At Hunter’s insistence, Evan had called her, hoping to straighten this out and maybe even begin the process of clearing her name. But it had been almost eight hours and Evan hadn’t gotten a call or a text back.
Hunter shook his head in frustration. “I knew it. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Maybe she’s just been really busy getting ready for the party,” Evan said quietly, but it sounded like a poor excuse even to her.
Hunter scoffed. “Come on, Evan. Taryn knows you guys switched coats. She’s purposely not coming forward because if she admits to the police those were her mints, she would be implicating herself in the process.” He stood up and started pacing. “Imagine the field day the press would have if they found out Alan Reyes’s daughter brought edible pot to a party and caused a car crash. She’s avoiding the scandal and leaving you to hang out to dry instead.”
She knew he was right. She had seen scenarios like this play out a million times on the Hill, but never had something like this come close to directly impacting her.
She looked up at Hunter, who had stopped pacing and was now staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“I think we should go to the police ourselves and explain what happened.”
The thought had already flashed through her mind, but she had immediately shot it down. “No, we can’t. They would never believe us. The whole story sounds like something a pothead dreamed up. It’s pointless unless Taryn comes forward, too.”
“We could at least try. Or I could go myself—”
Evan shook her head. “If the press found out we were accusing Taryn of that with no proof, it would make everything even worse than it already is. I’d be opening myself up to even more negative press.”
This momentarily silenced him.
“Promise me you won’t do anything,” she implored.
He paused for a beat, then finally looked up at her and sighed. “If that’s what you want.”
Georgetown Academy, Season One Page 55