Hurricane Days (17 page)

She couldn’t believe it. Kenneth and Sheila had been inseparable since their first day of high school. There was nothing in the world that would tear him away from the waif-like girl with fudge-colored hair who wore a ton of foundation to cover her freckles. She doted on him, adored him. If it had been another century, she would have followed him into the throes of some medieval battle. What could possibly have happened?

Jimmy finished his coffee with one final gulp and set it down roughly against the fragile china dish. “Would you believe he blamed
me
?” He drew shapes on his knees with nervous fingers. “As if it’s my fault!”

“What do you mean?” Robin asked, her eyes darting to the somber-faced Abigail, who waited quietly for him to tell the story.

“It seems he always liked this other girl,” Jimmy said helplessly. “Said she wasn’t someone he could bring home to us. He said he married Sheila ’cause me and your mother liked her! Can you believe that? I thought that boy had more of a spine than that.”

Robin stared at him a long moment. “Well, Daddy, you were very strong in your opinions. I’m not saying this is your fault, but would you have approved of this other one?”

“I didn’t even know her!” he insisted. “Your flaky brother never gave me a chance. You didn’t keep stuff from me ’cause you were afraid what I’d say, too, did you?” He asked the question, but didn’t really want an answer.

“Course not,” Robin lied.

Jimmy kept rubbing his hands together. “He says he loved Sheila, but was never ‘in love’ with her. Doesn’t that beat all hell?”

Abigail took Robin’s hands. “We hope this doesn’t hurt you in any way.”

Robin glanced at Tom, who was obediently silent. “Of course not,” she said.

“I think she’ll be fine,” Jimmy told Abigail, “as long as it’s not her gettin’ the divorce. It’s only her brother.” He didn’t hear how the words sounded. “You can understand the concern, though,” he added, facing Robin. “Divorces don’t happen to good Republicans.” He half-smiled, but it was clearly no joke to him.

“Everything will be fine,” Robin said as much to soothe herself as them.

“Thank God you and Tom have each other,” Jimmy said. “You can be strong for one another, no matter the outcome of this damn election.” He stood up and hugged his daughter a long time. “Elections come and go, but your
husband
, the one who stands by you, that’s all that matters.”

She heard his words as the eighteen-year-old girl again, being strongly advised about how to live her life. This made the looming press conference now even more ominous.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Governor Sanders took her place behind a podium that seemed to shrink as she stood there. She wished it could shield her from the flashing cameras and expectant faces. Among them were the wealthiest endorsers of her campaign. They would feel betrayed. This was political suicide…

It was time to begin. The press room fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Robin began. She looked down, which was uncharacteristic of her, and gripped the podium as a life raft. The room began to spin, she was about to hit the floor…was she fainting?

She abruptly raised her head and looked around her quiet office for a moment. The press conference hadn’t yet started, but her visions of it seemed frightfully real. In this darkest of times, she had no idea how she was going to say the words that would end what could have been a brilliant career. With a bitter smile, she thought to herself that maybe it was karma.

The state capitol was buzzing with reporters and frantic staff, who were preparing the North Wing for this highly unprecedented event. All morning long, the media had been speculating that this press conference may or may not be connected to Governor Sanders’ meeting with Adrienne Austen the night before.

Lara Denning burst into the governor’s office and made sure the door was closed and locked behind her. She marched toward Robin’s desk and began with something it seemed like she’d rehearsed: “Look,” she said, “I know you like this off-the-cuff, unrehearsed thing you do…” She paused to collect herself. “And it’s been good. It’s made you popular, but…it’s too late in the campaign to surprise everyone. At least
I
should know what’s coming. Can you throw me a bone here?”

“I know you’re concerned.” There was that calm Robin from earlier this morning. She was going to give another patronizing response.

“You’ve got a staff out there that’s really nervous. No, scared! You’re scaring the fuck out of me too.” Her voice revealed her panic. “We’re so close, we can taste it. But if you’re not going to work with us…what’s the point in us being here?”

Robin folded her hands. “That question is about to be answered.” Her stare was distant, unfocused. She seemed a shell of herself, with none of the fighting spirit Lara expected to see.

“What’s with these cryptic comments? Is this the goddamn
Da Vinci Code
?”

There was a soft knock. Lara went over to unlock the door. It was Peter.

“No luck,” Lara told him.

But Peter had other news. “Governor? You have…a visitor.”

Adrienne Austen pushed her way past Lara and Peter into the office. Robin’s eyes were wide with surprise. “Leave us alone,” the governor told her staff.

They angrily ambled out of the room, waiting as long as they could before closing the door. There was muffled conversation outside the room. No doubt everyone thought there was a connection between this woman’s appearance and the press conference.

“Your security people like their pat downs,” Adrienne said. “I should have had ’em buy me a drink first.” She brushed off her jeans, which were slightly faded, and a rust-color shirt was tucked inside, the top two buttons undone.

The governor rose to her feet and came around to the front of her desk. “How dare you show up here! You want to destroy me. You’re getting your wish. Is that not enough for you?”

“I don’t want to destroy you,” Adrienne said. Her voice was softer; the tension from the night before was gone.

“Get out.”

“I came to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Robin was dumbfounded. “For blackmailing me? I’m sure you’ve already sold that video, haven’t you?”

Adrienne pushed her hair over one ear, revealing a tiny diamond at the top. She lowered her eyes. “There’s no video.” She held up her phone. “It’s a new model. It’s so complicated, I don’t even know how to text on it yet.”

“You were bluffing?” Robin’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “My career is on the line, and you’re playing some childish game?”

“I wanted to shake you up a little,” Adrienne said. “Get you to think about who you were, what you’re doing.” Adrienne shifted in her boots, apparently trying to think of what she wanted to say. This was a very different woman from the demon in the black dress.

Robin’s eyes narrowed to black lines of mascara, cold and venomous. She was not going to leave herself vulnerable to this woman again. Her posture was confrontational, with arms folded tightly across her chest. “What do you want, Adrienne?”

“I heard you were doing a big press conference, and I wanted to stop you if it had anything to do with—”

“Why did you come to the rally?” Robin interrupted. “Why did you want to see me last night?”

“I had something I wanted to say to you,” Adrienne replied. She didn’t make eye contact. “But then you got up on your fucking high horse…you were so cruel…I wanted to make you suffer.”

“You’ve already achieved that. Every time you show up in my life.” Robin retreated behind her desk, her voice thin and tired. “Why should I believe you won’t go on national TV and reveal my secrets to the entire country?”

“Because I love you.” Adrienne blurted it out, then shrugged it off, as if it were an affliction beyond her control. She was surprisingly resigned and calm about it. “I love you,” she repeated softly, meeting her eyes just once before turning to leave. “I always have.” She glanced around awkwardly; there was no more to say. “I have to go check out of my hotel. It was…good to see you again.” The revelation was bittersweet, but she seemed earnest as she closed the door behind her.

When she was gone, Robin fell into her chair, stunned and spiraling down fast with no soft place to fall.

Chapter Thirty-Three

When I came back to the room that night, Adrienne was wide awake and worried looking. I didn’t realize how long I’d been at Carol’s. It was close to two in the morning.

“Where were you?” Adrienne asked in a panicky voice.

“I went out.” I fell upon the bed, exhausted from the night’s discussion.

“I thought something happened to you. Don’t you know, this is prime rape and murder time?” She sounded like me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” I kind of liked that she was worried.

“Well, you did. There are a lot of sick people out there. I should know. I went to high school with most of them.” She sat on her bed and stared at me. I was too tired to feel uncomfortable. “I wanted to apologize.”

I waved my hand. “Forget it.”

“No, I mean it.”

“You asked me to tell you the truth,” I said. “So I did, and you didn’t like what you heard. It’s okay. I probably wouldn’t want to know what you really thought either.” I lowered my eyes, hoping she wouldn’t tell me.

“I shouldn’t have gone off like that. Becky
is
an idiot.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been thinking. We don’t have to be friends. You just have your life and I’ll have mine.” I was oddly resigned; I think it worried her.

“Whaddaya mean? I said I was sorry.”

“I know. It’s not that.”

I could tell that Adrienne was confused. She was squinting, straining to understand. “Well, what is it then?”

“Nothing. I just don’t think…we need to hang around so much. You know, having lunch…”

Adrienne came over to sit beside me on the bed. “I’d rather hang out with you than my party friends.”

My heart thumped wildly inside my chest. She was the devil on my shoulder—drawing me closer and at the same time stabbing me with a pitchfork. Only she didn’t seem to realize it.

“Party with me this weekend. Please?” Adrienne’s plea was impossible to ignore. I knew I’d eventually say yes.

* * *

The next Saturday night, in Sean’s dark on-campus apartment, everyone swarmed like moths to the blue stereo light. Sean slapped the back of his scrawny friend, Boyd Matthews, who resembled any member of a heavy metal band. His big hair looked like he’d plugged himself into a light socket.

“This is Boyd,” Adrienne said. “Boyd, Robin.”

I chose to wear a simple, short-sleeved white knit top. It fit a little too snugly over my breasts, but I was running out of short-sleeve shirts to wear. It also helped that Adrienne had told me it looked good on me. Right now I was regretting my decision to wear it, because Boyd’s gaze lingered on my chest as if I were a centerfold. I crossed my arms to block his view.
Gazius interruptus
.

“Hello,” I said politely, glaring at Adrienne. “Can I have a word with you?”

She smiled a giddy smile. “Am I in trouble?” To Boyd she added, “It’ll be the third time this week.”

She followed me outside, where we argued like a couple of Rottweilers.

“Are you out of your mind?” I yelped.

“What? He’s just someone to hang out with tonight.”

“He’s looking at me like I’m a steak.”

“Have some fun. You never know what might happen.” Then she held up her hands. “I know he doesn’t seem like your type. But you never know.”

I exhaled dramatically. “What could we possibly have in common?”

“You’ve got to stop closing yourself off from people. Look at us. We have more in common than you thought.” She grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me, if something happens, great. If not, let yourself have a good time. No big deal.”

“You ever notice how something bad always happens after someone says ‘no big deal’?”

Adrienne smiled with an arm around my shoulder. “Think of him as fun.”

“Is that how you think of people?” I regretted the question as soon as I asked it, because I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.

Adrienne paused, considering her answer. “Not exactly.” She seemed momentarily awkward, which was strange for her. “It depends. Some guys are just for fun. You can always tell who the serious ones are.”

She escorted me back inside, to the hazy den of wolves, where Boyd thrust a can of beer into my hands. I took it apprehensively.

“Go on,” Adrienne said. “It doesn’t bite.”

“You never had a drink?” Sean smirked to his buddies. This was the most interest Sean had shown in me. He seemed to enjoy me as an object of ridicule. For a guy like him, it was always those intellectual girls who were the most fun to take down a few pegs. I could see it all over his not-completely-shaven face.

I wrinkled my nose, slowly bringing the can to my lips. “I’ve never had beer.”

Adrienne turned to Sean and said, almost proudly, “She’s like Sandra Dee.”

“Shut up,” I squealed, taking my first sip. “Ugh.” I swallowed loudly and scrunched up my face like a raisin.

Adrienne laughed. “You don’t like it.”

“Fizzy…yak pee.”

Adrienne laughed harder, turning to Sean. “She’s very dramatic.”

Sean was already bored. “Could we?” His heavy-lidded eyes indicated that he was either sleepy, stoned or looking for something more than another drink.

But my next sip seemed to hold Adrienne’s interest more. She watched me with sparkling, laughing eyes.

Boyd leaned against me, grinning. “A few more and you won’t taste a thing,” he said.

“Now there’s a goal.” I didn’t try to hide my sarcasm. It kept me feeling safe in the midst of my fear. I held up the can in a mock toast, to the sounds of cheers all around. I pinched my nose and gulped it down.

When I allowed myself to surrender my cognitive abilities, I felt good. Thinking was overrated anyway. Adrienne was right. I thought about everything too much. I breathed in the smoke like perfume and swallowed the beer until it started to taste not quite as disgusting. After a little while longer, all of my anger and frustration cracked through the walls, released in the screaming guitars of the Scorpions, as long as I didn’t listen too closely to the lyrics. The appeal of it all was now clear—to let go of fear and get in touch with your inner badass. Now
I
was the femme fatale, until I took a puff of Adrienne’s cigarette and coughed my lungs raw. Not pretty for a femme fatale. I’d never once seen Bette Davis choke on her cigarette.