The Phoenix Candidate(68)

“No, but I’ll wait. If that’s OK?”

“Of course. And have you registered to vote?” She offers me a clipboard with a voter registration card.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m already registered in Oregon.”

The woman looks at me more closely. I’m in linen slacks and knit tank, not looking particularly congressional after my early morning flight, but my wild brown curls are unmistakable. “Congresswoman Colton?”

“Yes?”

“I’m so glad to meet you.” She stands and shakes my hand. “I’ll go interrupt the senator.”

I thank her and take a seat on a vinyl chair, watching the buzz of activity in this space with mounting excitement. After a few minutes, the volunteer leads me to a small conference room with a round table and a few chairs.

I wait as she goes to retrieve Conover, but when the door flies open, it isn’t him. It’s Jared.

“I asked you to call me for one fucking minute, and you couldn’t even do that?” Jared’s eyes burn with intensity.

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

“You didn’t leave a message.” Jared’s arms are crossed, his posture wound tight.

“I was a little busy,” I say, and cross my arms to mirror him. “They generally frown on using your cell phone when you’re on a plane.”

Jared stalks toward me, but I remain seated. He towers over me and I tilt up my chin, but my gaze doesn’t waver. I’m stronger than all of the shit that’s been dumped on me in the past forty-eight hours. Jared’s dumping me included.

“Why are you here?” he asks, and he drops into the chair next to me. “I mean, I only asked you to call me. Not fly here like some nut on a mission.”

I laugh a little at that. “Yeah. It would be crazy to hop on a plane and just show up at your doorstep.” The way he did to me. Multiple times.

Jared reaches a tentative hand toward my cheek but I balk and pull away. I can’t do this if he messes with my heart again.

“Stop it, Jared. We’re over, even if I’ve got to deal with a news cycle of old pictures of us.” The pictures are just weeks old, but they seem like ancient history considering the rift between us now. “You hurt me, but that didn’t derail my purpose. I’m in Washington for a reason. Even if those pictures poison my future in politics, I’m going to make every second of the rest of my term count.”

“They backfired.”

“What?” I can’t be hearing him right.

“Lauren leaked those pictures. I know it. They went all over the evening news, which made everyone tune in to Rick Knox last night.”

My eyes widen. I avoided the news last night and slept through Knox’s show as exhaustion finally caught up to me. “Then how did they backfire?”

“Because everyone thought they’d get a look at a congresswoman caught with her lover, but instead they got a poised, smart politician systematically dismantling Darrow. His numbers dropped six points this morning.”

I’m stunned. Lauren just threw her grenade and it flew back and landed in her camp. “I had no idea,” I whisper.

“So why are you here, Grace?” His voice cracks a little and I detect regret and sadness. He made his choices. And now it’s time for me to make mine.

“I’m here to volunteer. For Conover. I torpedoed any chance I had with Darrow on that talk show, but I got really clear about something last night. He can not win. Under any circumstances. And so I’m here to help in any way I can to get Conover to the convention, to help him win the nomination.”

Jared’s face cracks into a grin. “I hope you brought more clothes than that.” He nods to my casual attire.

“Why? Your volunteers are wearing T-shirts.”

“Grace, if you’d answer your phone for one fucking minute, you’d know why I was trying to get through to you yesterday. Conover wants you. As his running mate.”





***





“Grace. Impeccable timing.”

Conover breezes into the conference room, cutting the tension between me and Jared and lighting up the room with his gleaming smile. Not a hair is out of place and his shirt is starched and spotless. You’d never know he was in the hospital three days ago.

“Thank you, Sen—ah, Shep.”

“So I’d like us to work together to win the White House. How does that sound to you?”

I take a breath, the speech I prepared on the plane evaporating from my brain as the heady phrase win the White House entices me like perfume. I finally force out, “Thank you for considering me, sir.”

Shep takes the seat opposite me and leans forward. “I get the feeling you’ve got a ‘but’ coming.”