After Hours Bundle (39 page)

She eyed him as if he were a cockroach, every blond curl on her head vibrating with hostility. “If she were, I don't know why I'd tell
you.
”

Ouch.

Shirlie snapped her gum. “Even if you are hung like a bull—”

Jack choked.

“—which I'm not saying you are, because the camera does add ten pounds, right? Anyway, it's not worth it. She doesn't need a pig like you in her life.”

The bleached-blond guy—what was his name, Nicky?—skipped up from his abandoned client, put his hands on his hips and looked Jack over from head to toe in a disgusted way. “Governor,” he declared, “you are a
slut.
”

“Hey! Can you guys give me a chance to explain? I need to talk to Marly.”

“Explain what? How you can't keep your zipper up? Sweetie, if you were gay…”

Jack blanched at the thought.

“If you were gay, I wouldn't do you with somebody
else's
equipment. Not even if you wore black leather chaps, which are the biggest turn-on in the world.
That
is how low you are.”

“Are you finished?” Jack asked.

“No. I wouldn't put you out on the curb with the recycling.” And Nicky stamped his foot, spun around and marched away. “
Now
I'm finished!” he called over his shoulder.

Jesus Christ. Nobody in this place was going to help him, that much was obvious. “Marly!” Jack yelled at the top of his lungs. “Marly, you have to listen to me!”

A little red-headed vixen in a white lab coat came out from the back, next. Arms folded across her chest, she glared at him. “You know, Governor, I was a place kicker for my college football team. How'd you like me to make a field goal with your testicles?”

Jack gaped at her. “You know what? You people are crazy. I haven't done anything wrong. My aides sent out the photo and statement without consulting me.” He looked beyond her at a big, strapping Latino guy who was headed his way. Uh-oh. Jack locked his knees and curled his hands into loose fists.

“May I help you, sir?” asked the man, aiming a cold, black-eyed stare in his direction.

“I need to see Marly. Is she here?”

“No. Can I give her a message for you, Governor?” There was just a trace of menace in the guy's voice.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I do not. I do know that she doesn't want any contact with you, however. So let me show you to the door.”

The damned door was in plain sight right behind him, so Jack took this as a veiled offer to toss him out on his gubernatorial ass.

“You're Alejandro, right?”

The guy nodded.

“And you're Peggy.” He addressed the little redhead.

She just narrowed her eyes on him.

“Look, just tell her…tell her to watch the news tonight, okay? It's very important.”

Jack looked at each hostile face and wondered if they'd get the message to her. He hoped so. Then he turned and walked out the door.

A
T APPROXIMATELY
5:55 p.m., a polite knocking commenced on Dad and Ma's door in Fort Myers.
Oh, no,
Marly thought.
The reporters have started up again.
There were only a few of them left on the street, and they were no longer in the driveway or on the porch, thank God, since Dad had called local law enforcement to threaten them with trespass charges.

She ignored the knocking, and so did her parents. Ma looked up briefly from her soap digest magazine, and Dad grumbled behind the newspaper, but neither made a move toward the door.

But whoever was there wasn't giving up. The knocking became a pounding, and the pounding finally morphed into outright battering.

“Jiminy Christmas!” Dad exclaimed. “If they dent our door, I'll send those vultures a bill.” He struggled to get up, but Marly said, “I'll deal with it.”

She stalked to the door, not caring if she was covered in cat hairs or had sheet marks on her face. She threw it open, prepared to rip the offending reporter a new butt hole, only to stop and stare. “Miss Turlington?”

The governor's personal assistant stood there, holding up one of her hideous shoes—the object she'd been using to pound on the door. “Miss Fine,” she said stiffly, straightening her pearls and manufacturing a tortured smile. She bent, set her loafer down and stuck her suntan-panty-hose-covered foot back into it. “May I come in?”

“Um. Of course.” Bemused, Marly opened the screen door and stood aside to let her pass.

The woman looked at her watch, spied the Zenith and hustled across the living room. “Excuse me, but I'm under direct orders from the gov—”

Dad ejected himself from his La-Z-Boy. “I'll have you know, Miss Whos-y-whats, that Jack Hammersmith has no jurisdiction in my living room! Touch my Zenith and I won't be responsible for my actions.” He shook the rolled-up newspaper at her.

Ms. T. flattened herself against the television, a martyr till the end. “I'm under direct orders to make sure Miss Fine watches the six o'clock news!” She looked like an aging sacrificial maiden, chained to the rocks and waiting for a dragon to come and devour her.

Marly bit back the giggles that threatened to overwhelm her at the sight. “Dad, calm down. Miss Turlington, step away from the Zenith. I will turn it on. Please tell me that the Jack-Ass didn't fly you here in the Gulfstream to ensure that I witness whatever PR maneuver he's about to pull off?”

“Well, young lady, I wouldn't sound so shocked if I were you. If you'd only answer your telephone, such drastic and dramatic gestures wouldn't be necessary.”

“I'll thank you not to take that tone with my daughter, Miss Turli-Top!” Ma had surged off the sofa and toward their guest. She poked her in her fleshless breastbone, so that Turls backed up to get away from her. “Have a seat.” She shoved her into a rigidly uncomfortable side chair.

“That's Turlington, madam.”

“Whatever. What channel, did you say?”

“Seven.”

“Turn the TV to seven, Herman. Marly, move out of the way so we can all see.”

The camera was focused on an empty podium, and a reporter's voice could be heard in the background. “Now, in just a few moments, folks, Jack Hammersmith will be making his first live public statement since the scandal regarding his hairstylist girlfriend broke in Coral Gables a couple of days ago. We have been unable to speak with Marlena Fine, the woman in question.”

The camera panned to Jack as he entered the room, looking sober and deeply gubernatorial. His royal-blue tie gleamed softly under the intense TV lighting, contrasting with the snowy-white of his shirt and the dark cloth of his suit. Marly's heart skipped a beat—until the camera showed Carol Hilliard at his side. Then her stomach rose up in revolution and knocked her heart into oblivion.

Oh, God. He was going to formally announce his engagement to that woman, and she was going to vomit all over her parents' shag carpeting and possibly on Miss Turlington's ugly shoes. She staggered toward the back hall. “I can't and won't watch this.”

Turls popped out of her seat and caught her by the arm. “You have to watch!” Her bony claw held surprising strength.

“I don't have to do any—”

Jack began to speak in quiet tones as they struggled. “I know that after some surprising and disturbing newspaper headlines, the people of Florida are wondering what's going on in my personal life. I'd like to thank you for your patience and end your speculation today with this press conference. I am here with my childhood companion and friend, Carol Hilliard….”

“Let go of me!” Marly snapped at Miss Turlington.

“Pay attention!” the woman screeched back.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” Dad's voice thundered out.

“Everybody,
shut up!
” yelled Ma.

“The polls have been informing us for a year now that voters think Carol and I are perfect for each other, that we make a great couple, that she's the ultimate Jackie to my JFK.”

Marly's stomach heaved again.

“That's nice. But it's idyllic thinking. And it's a fairy tale—let me tell you why. There is, or was, only one JFK, just as there was only one Jackie. Whether or not their marriage was perfect is the subject of a lot of speculation, and I don't have any of the answers. But Carol and I are not going to become a couple just because poll numbers suggest that we should. We're not prepared to live a lie.

“Carol and I will
not
be announcing our engagement today—or ever,” Jack's voice continued, “although it's not because of the recent scandal.”

Marly froze.

“Carol, as you can see, is a lovely, multitalented and charming lady. She will make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day.”

“But it won't be Jack,” Carol said, leaning into the microphone and putting her arm around his shoulder. “Because I'm not in love with him. I've known him all my life, and I adore him, but he's like a brother to me.” She smiled at him and gave him a squeeze. “I don't want to marry my brother.”

Jack spoke again. “As for me, I'm in love with somebody else, and her name is Marly Fine.”

“What?”
Marly stopped trying to pull away from Miss Turlington and instead leaned on her for support. Her knees wobbled and she finally just sank down onto the shag carpet, folding her legs underneath her.

Jack kept on speaking. “I met Marly only a few weeks ago, but I know that I love her and want her in my life. There are a lot of people who have questioned my judgment on this, and to them I say—if you've trusted me to run the state of Florida, can you not trust my ability to choose a wife? To read my own heart?

“If not, then I believe I should step down right now and not run for reelection, because you sure don't have a lot of confidence in me.

“Since I've been in office, I've been committed to my campaign promises—addressing the falling literacy rates in the state, the immigration issues, better hurricane preparedness and disaster relief efforts for those in need. I have also been committed to Florida families, even as a bachelor governor.

“Now it's time that I be committed to my own heart and to the woman I love. If that's going to damage my political image, then so be it. I wouldn't ask a single one of you to marry for any other reason than love. I hope you won't expect any different of me.

“We all find love unexpectedly, in all kinds of odd places. Some people find love in high school or college. Some find it next door. Others find love on a train, a flight or a whole other continent. I happened to find love in a hair salon. Is that so hard to believe? I wasn't in a bar, with alcohol clouding my judgment. I wasn't a kid in my teens or early twenties. And I wasn't looking for a woman deliberately through some kind of match service or blind date.

“Marly walked into the room, and I didn't care what kind of room it was, or what time of day, or if my political advisors would think it was a good idea. I took one look at her, and I was gone.” Jack stopped speaking for a moment and looked down, tightening his hands on the edges of the podium.

“I wish that I could announce my engagement to Marly Fine right now, this minute. But there's one little hitch—I haven't been able to ask her a simple question. So I may as well ask her right now, in front of God and everyone. Marly, will you marry me? It doesn't have to be next week or next month or even next year. We could have the longest engagement of all time. Just say yes. Please.”

Miss Turlington dabbed at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief while Marly stared stupidly at the television screen, at the governor baring his soul in front of the entire state…for
her.

Jack pulled a small, black-velvet box out of his pocket. “I've got the ring right here.”

She gasped, along with the entire audience at the press conference, her parents and Ms. T., who said, “I can assure you that I did
not
choose that for him, like Carol Hilliard's birthday present.”

A glow began inside Marly's heart. Jack wasn't a liar. He wasn't a cheap opportunist. He probably was crazy, but he was a good kind of crazy….

“Size six and a half. But I'm not opening this box until I'm in front of you, down on one knee.”

Ohmigod. He even knows my ring size. Even though the rat must have gone back to that security file to get it.

“Aw, come on, Jack!” yelled a reporter. “Show us the rock!”

“Yeah! Give us a look!” called another.

He shook his head. “Nope. Sorry, guys. She has the right to see it first.”

“Show us the darn ring!” shrieked Ma, bouncing up and down on the sofa. “I wanna see the ring! That
tease.
” She shoved the ancient rotary dial phone at Marly. “Call him, Marlena! Tell him he's killing us, here, already.”

“Ma, he's not going to answer his cell phone while he's on live television.”

“You don't know that until you try, do you? Call him!”

“And say what?”

Ma stared at her. “What, are you stupid? Say
yes!
And then tell him I want to see the ring. Ohmigod, Herman, wait until my bunko group hears that our daughter is marrying the
governor
….”

Heart in her throat, Marly dialed Jack's cell phone number. Embarrassing to admit she knew it by heart, but she did. Amazed, she watched the television screen as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the phone. He looked down at the origination number and gave a huge, young-Dennis-Quaid grin. “Excuse me, folks, but I have to take this call. I believe it's from the lady in question.”

He flipped open the phone. “Hello?”

“Jack? It's me.”

“Hi, honey. You're not calling to break my heart, are you? Anything but that.”

“Um, I don't think so. But I was hoping we could talk about this face-to-face? A little less publicly?”

“I understand. Can I pick you up in an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Can I tell them there's hope?”

“Yes.”

“That's all I need to hear, then. I love you.”

“I—” Marly swallowed hard. “I think I love you, too. But I'd make a horrible political wife.”

“We'll see about that.”

Ma screeched, “The ring! Tell him we want to see the ring!”

Jack said dryly, “Your mom sure sounds excited.”

“Yeah, well, I think she can wait an hour to see it. I kind of agree with you that I'd like to see it first. It's a girl thing.”

“Being the prospective bride, and all.”

“Prospective. Keep that in mind.”

“Marly, honey, are you still gonna play hard to get?”

“It's just my nature.” But she smiled.

Jack groaned. “Be there before you know it.” He flipped his phone closed and stepped back to the podium. “Marly,” he informed everyone, “says she's thinking about it.”

The crowd went nuts.