I remember his smooth answers, recall the open, honest face that has the added bonus of being movie-star handsome.
“Maybe,” I concede. “But that doesn’t mean we should represent him. We can’t compromise our mission.”
“He may embody our mission. Look, I’m all about putting women and people of color in power as much as you are. You know that, but ultimately, we want changes made in the system to help them. A friend at 1600 Pennsylvania can only help.”
“I just don’t know that it’s the right fit for us.”
“And I just don’t know that it’s only your call to make,” Kimba fires back. “We’re fifty-fity in this thing, boo. My fifty says we do it. In addition to advancing the causes we care about, we will have elected a president. Do you know how much business will come our way if we pull that off?”
“A lot,” I mutter without much enthusiasm.
“A lot. We can’t not consider it.” Kimba props one rounded hip against the makeup table, watching me closely. “Hey, this is me. Let’s talk about the real reason you don’t want to work with Owen Cade. His brother.”
I slingshot a baleful look at her. “That’s ridiculous. You think I’m still in my feelings for that man?”
“I saw you two together,” Kimba reminds me softly. “In the words of m’girl Sade, it was no ordinary love.”
“It was no love at all. It was a week.”
“He was your first.”
“Everybody has a first.”
“Everybody’s first is not Maxim Cade. And you may not have been his first, but it was obvious you were special to him.”
“So special he lied to me,” I spit, clinging to the righteous indignation I wrapped around myself like armor. “He knew how I felt about his father.”
“Ever thought him being afraid to tell you about his dad is an indication of how much he wanted it to work? That maybe he thought you wouldn’t give him a shot if you knew?”
I don’t answer, but just stare at her. It’s too much. Maxim coming to town. Seeing his brother and getting this offer. I’ve studiously avoided all things Maxim Cade for the last ten years. I’ve built the life I dreamt about, and he’s built his. We both got everything we wanted.
A tiny rebel part of me has the nerve to whisper.
Not everything.
35
Maxim
“I cannot overstate the necessity of developing a circular economy—one that minimizes waste and maximizes our natural resources.”
It’s a different way of saying what I’ve been telling this panel for the last hour. This isn’t my first time testifying before Congress, but it may be my last.
“Could you elaborate, Mr. Cade?” A narrow-faced man speaks into his little microphone, peering down at me from his perch.
“Yes. In a circular system we minimize waste, emission and energy leakage by slowing and closing energy and material loops,” I say as patiently as I can. “Not like in a more linear, traditional ‘take, make, dispose’ model. Economic circularity not only reduces resources used, and waste and leakage created, and conserves resources, but it also reduces environmental pollution.”
“According to the studies you provided,” says one congresswoman, glancing down at a sizable stack of papers, “China and Europe are taking the lead in this.”
“It’s true that most of the forward movement in circular economics is occurring in Europe and China,” I say. “Europe tends to focus more on the environmental implications, but China is very much concerned with the economic byproducts, too. Circular economy has been national policy for the Chinese since 2006.”
In other words, we’re lagging behind, guys.
“Concrete examples?” the first congressman asks, one brow elevated.
“There are many,” I answer. “But I think one of the best examples is in the textile industry. In fashion, it’s recycling clothes and fibers so they re-enter the economy instead of ending up in landfills as waste. Designers like Patagonia and Stella McCartney are high-profile examples of how this can work.”
“And you’ve ventured into this yourself, correct, Mr. Cade?” another asks. “You’re making money through this circular economy.” It sounds almost like an accusation.
“Hand over fist,” I confirm unapologetically. “Shoes, leggings, sports bras. You name it, and my company Wear It Again is making it over and over and over. We’re not only regenerating materials, but profit. We need these new ways of thinking if we expect to deliver on the emissions reductions commitments we and our global partners have made.”
“This is all a lot to take in,” one of them says. “A lot to process.”
“Exactly, which is why I’d rather be discussing how we can re-educate America’s populace and retrain our work force for green jobs instead of convincing you the sky is indeed falling. We need to make this real for people. Like telling farmers global warming is contributing to desertification, which means lower crop yields. They’ll get that.”
I spend another thirty minutes breaking down things most of the interns in my companies could easily explain to these politicians. Their ivory towers have chimney stacks, carelessly puffing poison into the environment. I hope I’m not wasting my time “educating” them, but they haven’t delivered in the past at the rate and level I had hoped.
“If we don’t address these issues,” I say, “the socioeconomic implications are even greater than the ones we’ve already discussed. Shifting ecosystems and natural disasters will cause poverty, hunger, homelessness, and disease, and will disproportionately affect those countries already most vulnerable. Quite frankly, in some instances I believe we’re already too late, and have to begin thinking of how we’ll survive, not reverse the consequences of what we’ve done.”
They ask more follow-up questions, and look for ways to skirt the truth, but I don’t give them outs, and counter every shortcut they want to take with hard facts.
“Let’s go,” I mutter to my assistant Jin Lei once the final question has been answered. “Quickest way out of here with as little press as possible.”
“As little” proves relative since a small cadre of reporters gather at the side exit we find.
“Maxim,” one reporter shouts, his iPhone shoved in my face. “Are you glad to be back in America?”
“I’m in America all the time,” I reply neutrally, eyeing the strip of sidewalk between the door and the SUV waiting at the curb. “I just don’t announce my comings and goings, but yeah. Of course, it’s always good to be home.”
“This is your fifth time testifying before Congress,” another yells. “And you serve with the president’s special counsel on climate change. Any chance we might see you venturing into politics?”
“Uh, no.” I laugh and start inching toward the car. “I’ll leave that to my brother.”
“Lots of rumblings about a presidential run for him,” the reporter says. “You’ve been very clear that you’re an Independent, not affiliated with either party. If your brother runs, can we expect you to support him?”
“I may be a little biased, but this country would be lucky to have my brother as president.” I take Jin Lei’s elbow and press forward. “I don’t pretend to know what he’ll do, but he’ll have my full support no matter what.”
I nod to the car and reheat the smile I’ve been using all day with the stalwarts in Congress. “Sorry. Gotta go.”
I allow their persistent questions to harmlessly bounce off my back while we stride to the car.
“Why are they always so interested here?” I ask Jin Lei, dropping my head back against the seat. “I walk outside in London, Paris, Milan—not a peep.”
“For one,” Jin Lei says, “they don’t see you as much. Two and three would be your brother and father. One is a soon-to-be presidential forerunner and the other owns one of the largest oil companies in the world. Americans don’t have royalty, so they’re interested in anything that comes close. Apparently, the Cades come close.”
I mis
s anonymity. Those days when the only people who really took notice of my existence were the students in my class when I was a TA getting my doctorate. My Kingsman days were simple, sweet. Though too few, my fondest memories from that season of my life are in Amsterdam.
“Is the new office set up?” I glance at the passing scene of downtown DC.
“Yes, sir.”
“Apartment upstairs?” It’s temporary, but I need my workspace within striking distance of where I sleep, considering how little I sleep.
“Yes, sir. Both are ready.”
“Good.” I rub my hands over my face. “Hell, I’m exhausted.”
“This was your last commitment for the day,” she says, her dark eyes concerned. “You hit the ground running.”
“I’m used to it. I’ll be fine.”
The hotel’s penthouse is marble floors, a wall of windows, and the height of modern minimalism. The elaborate arrangement of orchids on the foyer table is the only thing alive in the place. Everything else feels lifeless, impersonal and outrageously luxurious.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
In the office, a plasma wall displays multiple screens—CNN, CNBC, Market Watch, and news from international markets. I widen the feed so the entire wall displays the show I recorded.
“It was that political show Beltway you wanted the recording of, right?” Jin Lei asks.
“Uh, yeah,” I say distractedly, watching the show’s title package. “I’m expecting my brother. Tell them downstairs the senator and his detail can come up as soon as they arrive.”
The door closes behind Jin Lei, and I watch this Bryce asshole interview Kimba and Lennix, who is impossibly more than she even was before. More beautiful. More confident. More passionate. Everything about her appeals to me on a level few things ever touch. She views Bryce through knowing eyes, remaining composed when he tries to fluster her. Undaunted when he tries to intimidate. Dignified when he patronizes. She is exactly who the last ten years have made her, and I regret missing the journey.
I tried. I had hoped the months I was away in the Amazon would soften her position—give her room to cool off and reconsider. The unanswered correspondence didn’t deter me, but when I returned to the States, Wallace Murrow did. A few well-placed inquiries revealed Lennix was dating Vivienne’s brother. Nix had been very loud and clear about not wanting me in her life. There is a fine line between going all out for a woman you believe wants you as much as you want her, and stalking, harassing. I couldn’t land on the wrong side of that line, not with Nix of all people. Controlling her own destiny means everything to her.
There always seemed to be something. If it wasn’t another man in her life, it was a hill to climb in mine. Those first few years, many of the things I did were with my father in mind—to show him how wrong he was about me, but eventually it became about who I wanted to be and what I wanted to do.
Once it was buying a company with little hope of surviving, but with endless potential. Pulling that company out of the ditch consumed every waking moment for three years, but it became the foundation for the CadeCo conglomerate.
Another time it was fending off a hostile takeover. They regretted crossing me. I performed a backflip takeover, turning the tables on them and acquiring that company for my holdings instead of being gobbled up. Every challenge seemed to take me closer to my goals and farther away from Lennix, the girl I could never forget.
But I’m here now, Nix. And you will deal with me.
“Getting to the good part, I see,” my brother says from the door.
I turn and smile, glad to see him for the first time in months.
“Can you please leave your guard dogs outside?” I ask, nodding to the two dour-faced men who look on high alert. “And tell them this place is basically Fort Knox. They can relax.”
He grins and says a few words to them before closing the door.
“You’ve got a guard dog of your own.” He removes his suit jacket, undoes his tie, and flops onto the leather couch facing the plasma wall.
“Jin Lei’s growl is worse than her bite,” I say, taking a seat across from him. “But her growl is pretty bad.”
“So what’d you think about the interview? Was it worth the favors we had to call in to get them on?”
“That Bryce guy is an asshole. He should be glad Lennix agreed to come on his sorry show.”
“It has great ratings.”
“So did Jersey Shore. You asked her?”
He kicks his Italian boots up onto my coffee table. “I asked them, yeah.”
“And?” He’s doing this on purpose, drawing it out.
“Kimba’s interested.”
“And Lennix?”
“She said she doesn’t help rich white boys.” He grimaces and I laugh.
“That sounds like Nix.”
“You better be glad I agree they’d be the best ones to run my campaign.” He picks up a glass of water Jin Lei left in easy reach. “Or I wouldn’t be doing this.”
“You want to be president? Hire them. They’re the best. You’ll already get moderates and progressive white voters. You need black women, Latinas. Those voters will have choices and be looking for very specific things in the candidate they support. And no one knows marginalized groups like these ladies do. So does it really matter that I suggested it?”
“But why? You’ve barely shown any interest in my political career before.” His smile widens. “But then it’s her you’re interested in. Am I right, brother? You know Ms. Hunter?”
Intimately and not at all.
“We’ve met.”
“Don’t bullshit me. This is my future, possibly the future of this country we’re talking about. I’m not your matchmaker. I need to win and I need to know everything about your history with Lennix Hunter.”
I knock back a swallow of the bourbon Jin Lei knows I like and stocks in every residence.
“Want some?” I proffer the decanter.
“No, thanks. Tell me about you and Lennix.”
“What do you want to know?” I walk over to the wall of windows, taking in the view of the city. Glittering lights overlay the grime of politics. It’s a city where ideals climb in a corrupted bed with compromise to get things done. One of my least favorite cities in the world, and I need to be here to get what I want.
“Did you fuck her?” he asks.
“That is not the important part of this story.” I chuckle and shake my head. “I’ve fucked a lot of women. You should be asking why this one. What makes her so special that I’d go to the trouble of finally involving myself in your political career? Of dealing with that greaseball Bryce to arrange your meeting with her? And setting up shop in DC, of all places, when my business is everywhere but here?”
“So why?”
I take a long swallow of the sense-numbing liquor before answering. “I have to know if she’s as good as I remember. Did I convince myself we were perfect together before I screwed it all to hell?”
“Give me a minute to digest this.” Owen leans forward and props his elbows on his knees. “So you have a history with Lennix Hunter.”
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “That’s what I just said.”
“You’ve never talked this seriously about a girl, except for once.” He turns wide eyes to me. “Amsterdam. Lennix is the girl from Amsterdam.”
“So.” Brilliant response, but it’s all I can come up with on such short notice. I didn’t expect him to make that connection this quickly.
“So you’re still hung up on her? How’d you screw it up before?”
I slam my glass down on the desk and rub my eyes. “I kind of left out the fact that I was a Cade. And that my father is, for all intents and purposes, the man she hates maybe most in the world.”
“The pipeline.”
“Yeah, among other things. She said I lied to her.”
“Which technically, you did.”
“There was nothing technical about the connection we had before I left for Anta
rctica. I intended to tell her when I came back, but Dad’s daring rescue got so much air time and outed me on every news outlet before I could explain.”
“So you gave up?”
“Not exactly,” I say defensively. “I put things on hold.”
“For what . . . a decade?” he asks with a frown. “Amsterdam was like ten years ago, wasn’t it?”
“Look, she sent me away. I tried and she turned me down. She had shit to do and so did I. Neither of us were ready to stop what we were doing.” I shrug. “Maybe she made the right call. I can’t even imagine managing a long-distance relationship considering what the last ten years of my life have been.”
I’ve been planning this for some time. Events coalesced perfectly—Kimba and Lennix opening their political consulting firm, Owen following through on his precious ten-year plan for the presidency, and me hitting my milestones, allowing me a little room to breathe for the first time in years.
“And now you’ve decided you want her so it’s time?” Owen asks, skepticism in his expression. “And she should just fall in line with your wishes?”
“I think she’ll wish it, too. Or at least she will once I remind her.” I smile slow and wide. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.”
“Spare me the details, brother,” he says with a disgusted grimace “I don’t need the complications of your love life screwing things up for me. I just want her expertise.”
“You can have her expertise.” I toss back another much-needed swig of my bourbon. “I want everything else.”
36
Lennix
“This worked out perfectly,” I say, grabbing my luggage from the conveyor belt.
“Yeah, you know I hate traveling alone,” Wallace says, grabbing his, too.
“I made it to the rally in Queens.”
“And I made my keynote speech at the conference.”
“And we both got to see the baby.” I turn heart-eyes his way. “Madison is the most adorable baby ever. She has your eyes. Vivienne’s eyes.”
The Kingmaker Page 21