Dirge (Devastation Trilogy 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  I mean, sure, every guy fantasizes about having a sexy slave at home, right?

  I had her, even though that part of our relationship was carefully hidden. We had three kids and no privacy.

  Although there were times I went home for lunch while the kids were at school, or she met me at a hotel near my office for a nooner and we’d pretend we just met. After I was elected Speaker, sometimes we’d have sex in my office there at the capitol.

  She loved us, loved being a wife and mom.

  Loved being mine.

  I have a cleaning lady come out twice a month now, the same one Casey uses. Once a quarter she does a thorough deep clean. I keep up with the rest of it.

  Not like it’s difficult to keep up with. Mostly the kitchen and my bathroom. I can do my own laundry, the stuff I do myself, like sheets and towels, underwear, items that don’t need to be dry-cleaned. Casey takes care of dropping my suits off and picking them up from the cleaners.

  It took me nearly six months after my return to finally sit down in Ellen’s closet one day and start going through it with Casey. Even then, I cried and couldn’t let some things go.

  Her favorite Vols hoodie.

  The dress she wore to dinner for our tenth wedding anniversary, and one she also wore to many other fancy events after that, a dress I fucked her in more times than I can count, much less remember.

  Her favorite Minnie Mouse flannel PJs. How many Saturday nights did I spend with that soft fabric pressed against my cheek as I stretched out on the couch with my head in her lap and she played with my hair?

  Too many to count.

  Nothing smells like her anymore, though. I still use her shampoo and body wash sometimes, but nothing smells like…her.

  “Has she been dating, Dad?” Ryder asks, knocking me out of the tornadic pull of my rapidly darkening thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I admit.

  Ryder and Logan are now both focused on me. “Well?” they ask together.

  “Well, what?”

  “What’s he like?” Logan asks.

  “Guys, I know you love your little sister, but I’m her father. I don’t need you going caveman on anyone. It’s under control. Aunt Casey is also on the job.”

  I know Casey knows, because Aussie told me she confided in her. She still hasn’t come out to her brothers. I’m nearly positive they’ll support her, but that’s not my call to make. I won’t out her. When she’s ready to tell them, she will.

  And if they try to give her a hard time once she does, I’ll wring their necks with my bare hands, my sons or not.

  Once we’re home, everyone spreads out to change clothes. I lock myself in my bedroom for a few minutes. Immediately and unbidden, five different scenarios about how to kill myself with what I have on hand in my bedroom come to mind, starting with—

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a long, deep breath, hold it, and slowly let it out.

  This is supposed to be a happy day. I don’t want to worry the boys or my brothers. Chase lives in Memphis, and Tyson lives in Atlanta. They’re both single right now. Chase is divorced, and Tyson’s never married. They’re leaving tomorrow night, and I want this weekend to be a good one. The three of us rarely get together anymore, even after my return. They have busy lives, and I’m…

  Well, I’m the fucking governor. I don’t get casual putt-putt golf outings, or an evening at the movies, without picking up damn photogs or having at least one security guy shadowing me.

  I change into shorts and a T-shirt and make my way downstairs again. I wish I’d begged Casey to come home with us, or to give me a pill before we left the restaurant. It’d already be kicking in right now if I had. Except she drove Declan today, so I guess she had to take him home. I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with my dad/brother mask on and trying to keep it firmly in place.

  When Casey drops by a little before ten that night, on the pretense of needing to discuss an e-mail she received, we go into my basement home office, lock the door, and I’ve already got a bottle of water stashed there. I take off my glasses and set them on my desk, then grab the water bottle and twist the cap off it.

  Now ready, I hold out my right hand for the pill, but Case looks me in the eyes before uncapping the small, amber bottle.

  “No drinking tonight,” she says in that quiet, serious tone she’s got.

  I nod.

  “Have you had anything already? Any alcohol?”

  “No. Water and soda.” My hand’s still out.

  She hesitates. “Do you want me to hang out for a while in case you need me?”

  It’s tempting. Except I don’t want the boys, or my brothers, to see how weak I truly am right now.

  That means I do what I’ve become very adroit at—I deflect. “What about your date?” I heard her tell someone earlier she had plans tonight. Come to think of it, so did Declan.

  “I didn’t have a date. I was just getting out of being dragged into something. I knew you’d need me.”

  Still hasn’t handed me a pill.

  “Give me the motherfucking pill, Case.”

  I only realize I’ve said it out loud when I get the eyebrow from her. If she was kinky, I’d say it was Dom eyebrow. Or, Domme, in her case.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my gaze dropping.

  “You hate these pills,” she points out to me. “I’m trying to understand what’s going on tonight. Your brothers are here, the boys are home, and—”

  “Because the wind’s screaming,” I whisper. “She’s not here, and the wind’s screaming. She should’ve been here. She deserved to be here, and she’s not, and I’m not sleeping. I’ve slept less than two hours in the past two days. Please, Case. Give me the damn pill. I need it.”

  She slowly nods and shakes one into my hand. Then she caps the bottle and slips it into her front pocket. “Will you let me find you someone to talk to? I know that first medication didn’t help, but maybe if we—”

  “No.” I wince as I swallow the damn thing and chase it with water.

  My GP tried me on Wellbutrin and I only lasted three weeks on that. I hated the way I felt on it. The sleeping pills lasted three days. The Xanax sucks, but it’s a multi-tasker. I can use it as-needed, instead of needing to take it all the time. It’ll help me drop to sleep, and it helps stave off panic attacks when I have to fly. I can also dissolve one of the nasty-tasting tablets under my tongue, if necessary, to kick in faster.

  I slump back against the desk, the water bottle still clutched in my left hand.

  Casey reaches up and smooths my hair back, careful not to look me in the eyes.

  I cry when she does that when I’m this…vulnerable.

  I don’t know why.

  I don’t want to, either.

  “I’m worried about you,” she says.

  “I’m worried about me, too.”

  We stand there like that for a couple of minutes, not speaking. Above us, I hear my brothers and my children talking, laughing.

  Life goes on.

  They’ve moved on.

  I’m…

  Part of me is still on that island, my arm draped around Susa and trying to convince her she’s not dying, even as I wish I could.

  Part of me will forever remain strapped in that airplane seat, terrified and screaming, my left hand holding the oxygen mask pressed tight against my face because my right hand is holding Ellen’s as it goes cold in mine.

  Case cups my cheek and closes her eyes as she tips my head forward, our foreheads touching. “I love you, George. I can’t lose you. The kids love you and need you. Your brothers love you and need you.”

  I know she means it as friends, so I don’t read anything into it. “I love you, too, Case.”

  She kisses the tip of my nose before stepping back and heading for the office door. “I’ll say good-night to everyone. I’ll keep my phone on. Text me if you need me.”

  “Thanks.”

  She gently closes the door behind her and I hear her ascend the steps.<
br />
  I know I need to go up there and say my own good-nights, because I don’t want to doze off on the sofa and awaken to a nightmare with all them as witnesses.

  I also don’t want them to see me cry.

  Deep inside me, something is slowly tightening, pulling me apart from the inside out, binding me in bad, dark ways.

  I don’t want to cry anymore.

  I want to lash out, put my fist through a wall, start a fight and beat the shit out of someone while getting the shit beat out of me.

  The public at large tends to frown upon that kind of thing, however.

  Especially when it’s the seated governor of Tennessee.

  After a few deep breaths, I put my glasses back on and head upstairs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Now

  As my Monday drags on, I feel the invisible band tightening in my gut. Declan ushers me through a congratulatory Skype session with a group of fifth graders from an elementary school in Memphis who’ve placed first in a national robotics competition. He stays out of view of the laptop’s camera and uses his tablet and a drawing program to jot down answers or suggestions for me when the kids ask me questions I don’t have ready answers for.

  After that’s over, I have several phone calls to deal with, Declan also sitting in for those.

  By four that afternoon, I am…exhausted. Except I can’t nap today. I still have too much on my plate to deal with—

  i have to FLY to dc without casey

  —and something inside me gives way while Case is going over tomorrow’s preliminary schedule with me.

  “Why the fuck can’t I just drive to DC? I don’t need goddamned security. Jesusfuck, Case. I’m a grown-ass adult. The conference will be safe. No one’s going to fuck with me there. Security around the hotel will be insane.”

  I honestly didn’t realize the words were out of my mouth—out loud—until I saw the way Declan’s eyes widened like headlights on a semi.

  Thankfully, it was only the three of us in the office, and the door was closed.

  Case’s gaze narrows, dark and dangerous, and she doesn’t back down or look away from me. “Declan, stay.”

  Behind Case, he’d been moving to stand. At her command he freezes momentarily before slowly lowering himself into his chair once more.

  Under nearly any other circumstance I would’ve laughed. She didn’t even look at him to know he’d been about to escape.

  She keeps her voice low, dangerously so. “George, you are flying to DC. Declan is flying with you. He’ll have your medication with him. This is a done deal—the tickets are purchased. This is not negotiable. He is well aware of your issues surrounding flying. I have every confidence in him to take care of you for me. It’s time you take this step. We have to move you out of your comfort zone.”

  I’m…shaking. Trembling.

  I clasp my hands together and drop them into my lap under my desk before she can spot it.

  Terror fills me, my pulse racing and my gut cinched into tight, painful knots. I shake my head.

  She doesn’t back down. “You’re flying if I have to shove a pill wrapped in bacon down your throat like a dog and have the whole damn EPU team physically carry you onto the plane and strap you in. Do you understand me?”

  My jaw remains tightly clenched as we remain there, locked in a battle of stares until, as I did earlier, I blink first and look away, barely nodding.

  I recognize carrot-and-stick when I see it. She immediately straightens and rounds my desk to lean in and hug me. “George, I trust Dec,” she softly says, but loudly enough I know he can hear her, too. I look at him and he’s studiously going through his cell phone. “I know it’s not a good time of year for you, but we don’t control the timing. You need the political exposure this will give you. He’s going to take good care of you. I got you guys a two-room suite, so if you have a nightmare, he’ll be right there.”

  Making myself vulnerable to someone else—anyone else—is almost as bad as the wind screaming in my brain.

  “You have to do this,” she adds. “Because you need to start gearing up for campaign mode, and you’re going to be flying a lot. I cannot go with you on every trip. You have to get used to Declan being with you. He’s going to be your body man again for the campaign. I wouldn’t have him this close to you if I didn’t trust him with everything. I can’t wait any longer to start this process with you. If some fucking asshole files to run against you in the primary, it means flying even sooner.”

  Declan glances up at me, then down again. He’s damned nervous—I can see it.

  Logical George understands she’s right about this.

  Logical George commends her for thinking about this and planning ahead.

  Logical George thanks her for thinking about me first.

  Lost George is about two breaths from a full-on tantrum that terrifies every other part of me.

  Loss of control.

  Who the fuck am I kidding? I don’t have any business being in this office. I can barely keep my mask in place, and I’m supposed to run an entire fucking state?

  I can’t do this without Ellen. I need my girl.

  All the nights during my campaigns I decompressed, my head in her lap, a desperately needed full reset for me to face the next day head-on and full-throttle.

  All those sweet, stolen snippets of time when we had a hotel room for an event and I could spank her, or tie her up and spend an hour or two making her beg for me.

  I didn’t only lose the love of my life—I lost the center of my sanity. I could do anything knowing Ellen was in my corner. No shit, she made me feel like Superman.

  It was Ellen’s idea for me to run for the state senate. It was her idea for me to think about eyeing the governorship.

  It was her idea to think about maybe setting our sights higher once we accomplished that.

  She believed in me, in what we could do together to help people. She saw me as the way to make solid, lasting change to help the families of the kids she taught, and those students—and teachers—who’d follow her. To better our state.

  Did I enjoy being in office? Parts of it, sure. But it was a means to an end.

  Everything I did, I had Ellen in my corner.

  Everything I did, I did it because Ellen believed in me and suggested it.

  Everyone’s going to know what a damn faker I am now.

  Case plays dirty, dropping her voice to a whisper only I can hear. “She’d want you to do this—to trust me, and to trust him because I trust him.”

  My throat dries up, forcing me to swallow. That is my Achilles’ heel with Casey, and forever will be, I’m sure.

  She damn well knows it, too. “Okay,” I whisper back.

  She scratches the back of my head. “Good boy.”

  * * * *

  The rest of the afternoon, I’m uncomfortably aware of a new, wary edge in Declan’s gaze. Like he’s afraid I’m going to go off on him.

  That… I hate that.

  I’ve never been that guy before, and I don’t want to start being him now, no matter how shitty my soul feels.

  That’s why, little after five, once he’s finished going over some stuff for me regarding committee agendas, I ask him to close my office door so we can talk privately.

  I despise that he hesitates, and that when he turns back to me, it’s almost like he’s expecting me to come after him. How he holds his notepad clutched against him like body armor. Like this, the Alpha guy I watch deal with others is gone, and this man is vulnerable and cautious.

  “Please, sit.” I point to the chair he’d occupied.

  Once he does, I stand and round my desk, leaning back against it. I take off my glasses and set them on my desk, then shove my hands in my pockets.

  “I’m sorry for earlier,” I tell him.

  “Sir?” He looks genuinely confused.

  “When I went off on Case. I’ll be apologizing to her, too, but she and I go all the way back to college. You know that. I’m sorry
I wasn’t professional earlier. I’m under a lot of stress, and I’m exhausted, but that’s no excuse. I appreciate everything you do for me, and not just in the office. I appreciate the errands you’ve run for me, and I appreciate all the evening and weekend time you put in. I’m really sorry I blew up, and I’m sorry if I’ve damaged your faith and trust in me.”

  If anything, now he looks like he’s more on-guard than he was before. He slowly nods. “It’s all right, sir.”

  “No, it’s not all right, but I appreciate you saying that. I’m also going to apologize in advance.”

  “Sir?”

  I want to stick capital S’s on that word every time he says it, regardless of where it appears in a sentence.

  “The NGA trip,” I say. “For starters. I’m sure I’m going to be a handful for the flights out and back.

  The hint of a smile creases his face. “It’s all right, sir. She warned me. And she did offer me the chance to not do it. I volunteered.”

  “She did?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That’s interesting intel I’ll stash away to look at later. “I…don’t sleep well sometimes.” Which is such a massive understatement it borders on full-blown lying territory, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’m not good on airplanes now, for obvious reasons. And you already know I’m not a morning person. I’m sure there will probably be times over the next several months where I’m short-tempered, and grouchy, and maybe even an asshole. I’m giving you permission now to push back, the way she did earlier. Call me out. Don’t let me walk all over you. In fact, I want you to call me out. I mean, please do it in private, but as soon as a door is between us and everyone else, call me an asshole and let me have it. Just like Case does.”

  He smirks. “Should I get that in writing, sir?”

  I finally laugh, a genuine one that feels…good. With all the sewage in my brain, it’s easy to forget how well he and I got along before I ascended to this office. The working lunches the three of us had, the cases we handled together.

  That his dry humor has made me laugh more times than I can count over the years I’ve known him.

  Ellen always called him an old soul. She once told me she hoped maybe Casey would start something with the guy despite their age difference.