The Sweetest Summer(128)
Ha! Just more lies. He didn’t feel hopeful—he felt panicked. Because if they couldn’t find Christina, it meant he had just caused a stupefying amount of collateral damage to his life—campaign contributions, approval ratings, committee assignments, access to the Derricks’ deep-fried pockets, and even his shot at a VP nod.
For nothing.
If Richard were brutally honest with himself, he would have to admit that the only reason he was prepared to walk away from the life he had was because he had another life waiting—life as a father.
If they never found Christiana, he would be left with no life at all.
He would not let that happen.
Now dressed, Richard arrived at the hotel suite door and put his eye to the peephole. Jesus!
He opened the door for M.J. and immediately retreated to one of the sofas.
“Got any coffee around here?”
“No.”
M.J. curled up on the couch opposite Richard. She stared at him. “Comfy.”
Yes, it was. That’s why Richard liked the Jefferson: guaranteed discretion and seating that didn’t feel like steel girders shoved up his ass.
“What can I do for you, Mary Jane?”
“I’ve come to tell you a bedtime story.”
“I just woke up.”
“Well, you might spend the rest of the day in bed after you hear it.”
Richard laughed softly. “My sincere apologies, but I have neither the patience nor the energy to deal with your passive-aggressive bullshit this morning.”
M.J. swung her legs around and leaned forward. “You don’t even remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“Sunday morning. Right before you went on-air with Tamara. I told you there was something you really needed to know, and you told me it had to wait. Well, I don’t think it can wait any longer.”
Richard leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Make it short.”
She flashed a perfectly evil smile. “Sure. The title of this story is ‘Above and Beyond.’ It’s about a young girl named Amanda McGuinness and her adventures in the nation’s capital. It’s a cautionary tale, really. ”
Richard lowered his chin and stared at M.J. as dread pressed down on him. “Go on.”
M.J. tossed an envelope onto the coffee table. Richard knew it was her letter of resignation. “First, you need to understand the setting for this story. We were eyeballs deep in reelection strategy for your third term. You’d just been appointed chair of the oversight subcommittee. Your approval rating was off the charts. You’d already raised eight-point-five million from Super PACs alone. You were golden.”
“What . . . did . . . you . . . do?” Richard sat up straight, his blood pressure mounting.
She laughed. “I did what I’ve done for you for sixteen years: I cleaned up your mess.”
“I’ll ask you one more time.” Richard crooked his arm and aimed his right pointer finger across the coffee table at her. “What did you do to Amanda?”
M.J. rose from the sofa and hugged herself. She began pacing the room. “You are incredibly dense, Richard, more so than your average congressman. I found the girl cowering in the corner of the ladies’ room, sobbing because she was in love with you and had just found out she was pregnant with your baby. She was scared to death, trying to summon the courage to tell you, daring to hope that you’d leave Tamara for her the way you’d promised. She was a lost little kitten. So I made it simple for her.”