Nothing to Lose (8 page)

“Holy shit” was all Sherise could muster.

“What?” Billie asked. “What's going on?”

Speaking into the earplug mic, Sherise repeated the text. She heard Billie gasp on the other end of the line.

“ ‘Holy shit' is right,” Billie added.

“How could this be?” Sherise asked. “He wasn't on any of the short lists. He was supposed to run for president after being promoted to secretary of defense. He's not even a Republican! How is he running for VP on the Republican ticket?”

“It's not that much of a stretch,” Billie said. “Matthews is weak on defense without Shaplin. Nolan is a defense icon and he's supposed to be a pretty conservative Democrat. You didn't suspect this even a little bit?”

“No!” Sherise yelled. “Do you think I would still be sane if I thought that we would be campaigning against Jonah Nolan? Do you think I would have even gotten into this game?”

“What are you going to do, Sherise?” Billie felt for her. The last thing she needed in her condition was more stress.
This can't be good for the baby,
Billie thought.

“I'm going to kill myself,” she said. She was only joking; but in reality, this was a nightmare. “You have no idea how much I hate this man, how much of a threat he is to me.”

“But Erica won't let him act on any of those threats,” Billie said. “As horrible as he is, he doesn't want her cutting him out of her life. And now that he's running for office, he won't want to risk her revealing their . . . you know, their secret.”

“That's not the secret I'm worried about,” Sherise said. “If he's running, the press is going to pore over his personal life, hoping for a sex scandal. He has a reputation as being a ladies' man. I can assure you, I wasn't the first woman this man has cheated with, and I probably wasn't the last. They'll be looking for anything.”

Billie sighed. She didn't know what to say. After all, if Erica's boyfriend, Terrell, who was nothing more than a limo driver, could find out about their affair, couldn't the press figure it out?

“Like you said,” Billie offered, “he's probably slept around a lot. Your affair was really very short, basically nothing. He's probably had longer affairs with more prominent women that the press would be more interested in.”

“More prominent than the chief of communications for the Democrat candidate for the presidency that he's running against?”

Billie couldn't deny her position made this worse. If found out, the discovery of the affair would be the worst possible outcome for many more people than just Sherise. If the connection could be made, she'd be a global household name for all the wrong reasons.

“For all the things that Jonah is,” Billie said, “he's a man who works in his best interest. He has power and influence. I think he'd use all of that to assure he'd make it to the White House.”

“What if it's not enough?” Sherise asked, feeling ready to throw up at just the thought of it. “What if even the great Jonah Nolan can't stop the relentless press machine? Do you know what happens to me if this comes out? Everything is ruined—my marriage, my family, my reputation, my career . . . all of it! My life will be over.”

 

Billie was still reeling from her conversation with Sherise when she heard a knock on her door. She looked up, amazed to see Michael Johnson standing in the doorway. She had to laugh when she realized he was waving a small white handkerchief in his hand. He looked handsome and humble in a casual blue suit.

She waved him in, wondering what she looked like right now. She knew she'd looked professional and sharp when she'd started today. But it was almost six in the evening and she'd been rushing all day.

“I just came from a meeting and thought I would risk it and drop by.” He pointed to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. “May I have a seat?”

“I promise I won't bite you,” she answered, nodding. She told herself to behave.

He pointed to his flowers, which had been placed in a vase and now sat on the small windowsill of her office. “I'm glad to see they didn't go straight into the garbage.”

“Why would they?” she asked. “They're lovely.”

He sat back casually in the chair. “I know I didn't make the best impression last week. I was still a little angry about the whole thing.”

“Don't.” She held up her hand to stop him. “Neither of us was on his or her best behavior.”

“I have an idea,” he said. “Can we act as if our first meeting on the train was the only other time we've met?”

“That would be nice,” she said. “But you didn't seem to like that encounter so much. I remember you believing I was too eager to get away from you.”

“I was a little disappointed,” he said. “I thought there was a . . . I don't know, something. Then you turned away and never looked back. If you had, you would have seen a very pleased smile on my face. You were a bright light that morning.”

Billie felt her cheeks warm to his compliment. “What I was that morning was late and preoccupied. I actually enjoyed our brief, albeit clumsy, encounter.”

His expression lightened even more and his charming smile widened. Billie had to fight the urge to flirt with him, even though he didn't seem to bother fighting the same urge. It wasn't professional, was it?

“Don't you find it odd?” he asked. “That we would meet on the train like that and then, a week later, have this . . . connection?”

“ ‘Connection'?” she asked.

“Maybe that's the wrong word,” he said with a short laugh. “I've lived in
D.C.
for a decade and I don't really believe in coincidence. I hardly ever ride the Metro. I usually drive or cab it, but my car was in the shop. Maybe there was a reason I was supposed to be on that train that day.”

“You just said the reason,” she stated. “Your car was in the shop.”

He squinted as if trying to read through her blocks. “You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She wasn't, even though she wanted to. Billie couldn't ignore that she was attracted to Michael, despite their most recent encounter before this. He was very handsome and clearly interested in her. However, the last thing she needed was to get involved with someone who was in any way connected to her job. That was what got her in trouble with Ricky. He was a client and her inability to keep things professional led to horrible things.

“I've lived in
D.C.
all my life, Michael, and I do believe in coincidence.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” he said. “You're a sensible woman. You probably like playing it safe and being careful.”

If only you knew,
Billie thought. She used to be that person and wished she could go back to it. Seemed her life made more sense then.

“Glad you understand,” she said.

“I didn't say that,” he quickly added. “I don't know a lot about you, Billie, but I suspect there is a part of you that believes in fate, and that part thinks about that train encounter a little bit.”

More than a little bit,
she wanted to say, but she didn't. He was looking into her eyes right now, searingly, as if searching for what was on her mind. Billie wanted to look away, but she couldn't. He was a compelling character. The more she was getting to know him, the more trouble she realized he was going to be.

Fortunately, there was a knock on her door. The sound allowed her to tear her gaze away from his. It was Lane; he walked into the office with an odd look on his face at the sight of Michael.

“What are you doing here?” Lane asked.

“I had a meeting,” Michael said, standing up.

Lane seemed a little confused by that; Billie thought for a second that Michael had lied to her. He hadn't been there for a meeting at all. He'd come just to see her. This was flattering and worrying at the same time.

Looking as if he had other, more important things on his mind, Lane let it go. He turned his attention to Billie.

“We have to talk,” he said. “Privately.”

“I was just leaving,” Michael offered. He turned to Billie. “I'll see you around, I'm sure.”

“Thank you again for the flowers,” Billie added, wondering if he was really going to keep that gorgeous smile on his face every time she saw him. It made her knees feel a little weak.

Lane and Michael said their good-byes before he left, and Lane closed the door behind him.

“What is it?” she asked. “You look a little anxious.”

Lane leaned against the wall closest to the desk. “I was going to tell you this morning when you asked me about the firms we were looking at to handle the FTC case, but Evelyn came in with the flowers. What is Michael doing here, by the way? Did he come here just to—”

“What is it, Lane?” Billie didn't want to talk about Michael anymore, but she was also getting a little nervous. “What did you want to tell me? Has Gil decided to go with my ex-firm?”

“No,” he said, “but that is an amazing choice of words you just used. I mean . . . ‘ex.' ”

It hit Billie like a brick. If she hadn't been sitting down, she would have fallen.

“I told Gil that could be a problem,” Lane offered. “But he felt like he accommodated you enough by not hiring your old firm.”

Billie was shaking her head, not able to find the words she needed. When he mentioned “ex,” she knew. She just knew. They had hired Dinklett & Williams, a large New York–based law firm, which she knew all too well. It was the firm that her ex-husband, Porter Haas, worked at, in their
D.C.
office. Porter was the star of their finance practice and would likely become a partner later this year.

“The good news,” Lane said, trying real hard, “is that Gil said he has enough confidence in you to handle it. He has faith in you. That usually takes a long time to earn here. You've earned it just through two consulting gigs.”

“This is a finance case,” she finally said when she found her voice. “Porter will definitely be working on this.”

“Shouldn't he be?” Lane asked. “He's one of the best, right?”

Porter was well known in
D.C.
circles as a genius in finance law. If any company hired the firm, they had to demand he work on the case. It was as simple as that.

“You still want me on this case?” she asked. “It might be easier to give it to someone else.”

“You really want to do that?” Lane asked, concerned. “That's not a way to start your career here, Billie. I know that it might be awkward, but handing over a case, your first case, is not going to go over well with Gil. He wants you running head on this.”

She nodded, knowing that Lane was right. The last thing she needed was to come across to another employer as weak. She could handle this. She
had
to handle this.

“You've been divorced for a while now,” Lane added. “It's still not that bad between you, right?”

“Yeah,” Billie lied.

Lane had no idea. He didn't know that Porter cheated on her, screwed her over financially in the divorce, continued to seduce her, using his daughter as a tool even after they were divorced. He wasn't aware that Porter had tried to blackmail her into his bed and had used a paralegal at her old firm to spy on her and give him information he could use to exert control over her life. He wasn't aware that Porter broke her heart again by sending his daughter away and threatening Billie with legal action if she tried to contact her.

Yes, she had gained some ground by matching him at his game and threatening to expose his many bad deeds to even the playing field. She had taken Sherise's advice and decided to play as dirty as he did. She didn't like the way she felt afterward when she realized that Porter's reputation had been tarnished and his promotion to partner had been put on hold for at least a year. But it worked, and Porter had less power over her. He worked less at ruining her life. That was until he sent Tara away. She would never forgive him for that. She hated him now—the man she once loved, had wanted to have children with, and spend the rest of her life with.

“We're good now,” she said with a smile. “We'll work together fine.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Lane said, “you won't really be working together. He'll be working for you. Not bad, huh?”

Billie thought about it for a second. That was true. This might be better than she thought.

“N
ate!” Erica yelled from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in a few. Gonna be ready?”

“I'll be there!” her little brother yelled back from his bedroom down the hallway.

Tonight was going to be low-key, just dinner at home. Last night, after picking him up, Erica treated Nate to a dinner celebration at Art and Soul, a restaurant only a few blocks away from Union Station.

They had a great time catching up with each other. It had only been six months, but it seemed like longer than that to Erica. It was bittersweet, because while Erica realized that she finally had her baby brother back, she knew right away that she had lost him. He was more independent now, having spent time on his own, getting to know what he wanted. He had come home with her, but his new job started in two days. He already had lined up a few apartments to look at this weekend.

There was a part of her that wanted to get back some of what she'd had when the three of them—Nate, Erica, and Terrell—all lived in the apartment together. They fought often, but, all in all, they had a ball. Those few years were some of the happiest of Erica's life. She thought it would be nice to get some of that back, but it was just reaching for a promise that wasn't meant to be. She was supposed to marry Terrell and have children with him; and Nate would move on, get married, and have children of his own. They would all be one big, happy family. They would be what she knew their mother had always hoped for them.

But things didn't turn out that way and it broke her heart. At least she had Nate back, but she knew he was moving out and he'd probably get a girlfriend soon. She'd hardly ever see him. Erica couldn't use Nate to make herself not feel alone.

Stop it,
she thought.
There is no point in feeling sorry for yourself.

Besides, she was already upset with the way things had gone yesterday with Caroline. Then, when she found out that Caroline had called in sick today, she knew something was wrong. She doubted Caroline had come down with a sudden illness; and with all the extra overtime work she had lobbied so hard for, it made no sense that she would not come into the office. She hated being worried about someone as distasteful as Caroline, but she was.

To add to it, Jonah had tried to contact her three times already that day. She'd ignored each one of his calls. Now that the news of his vice presidential appointment was out, it was all the talk pretty much everywhere. She wasn't feeling it and didn't want to hear it.

When the phone rang again, she expected to see Jonah's name, but it was Sherise. She'd been waiting all day for his phone call; she wasn't looking forward to this conversation.

“How long did you know?” was the first thing Sherise asked as soon as Erica picked up the phone.

“I couldn't tell you,” Erica explained.

“How long?” she repeated loudly.

Erica was stunned by her tone. “You need to calm down, Sherise. This isn't good for your baby.”

“You wanna know what's not good for my baby?” Sherise asked. “Her mom being exposed as Jonah Nolan's mistress to the world. Just tell me, how long did you know?”

Erica sighed. “It's been about a week, but I couldn't tell you. I promised him.”

“Since when does he deserve promises?” Sherise asked. “A week. Oh, my God. Do you know that I could lose everything? Do you even care? If you'd told me, I could have been prepared. I could have done something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” she said. “I don't know. I have the press at my disposal. I could have thwarted it, made it look messy or something. I would have done anything to discourage them from picking him. I never got that chance.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Erica said. “I knew what it could mean for you, but I didn't want to betray him. He made me promise.”

“Fuck him,” Sherise said. “That man is an asshole and deserves to be betrayed.”

“He's my father,” Erica retorted. “No matter how much you hate him—and I know you have a right to—he's my father. I'm not going to do that. Besides, it could easily be linked to me and I don't want to be on his bad side like that.”

“Listen to you,” Sherise said. “You're scared of him and protecting him at the same time.”

“He's protecting himself,” Erica said. “He's not going to let anyone find out about that stuff.”

“How?” Sherise asked. “How is he going to keep a ravenous press from finding anything out?”

“I don't know how,” Erica said, “but he seemed confident that—”

“Confidence isn't enough! You need to find out how exactly he plans on keeping this secret, Erica. My life depends on it. Cady's future, this baby's future, they both depend on it.”

“He didn't tell me,” she said.

“Find out!”

After being hung up on, Erica put the phone on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. As always, Sherise was being insane, but Erica couldn't say she was overreacting this time. The second Jonah told her, Erica knew exactly what this could mean for Sherise. She had compassion for her friend, despite all of their clashes. She loved Sherise like a sister and didn't want her friend's family to fall apart. This would be global, not just national. It would ruin Sherise's life, and Justin would never forgive her. Right now, in her delicate position, the stress could have even worse consequences for Sherise.

But Erica also felt it was wrong of Sherise to make her responsible. Erica wasn't the one who had the affair with Jonah. Sherise made the choice—like many she always made—out of selfishness, ambition, and greed. It wasn't fair for her to make Erica risk getting on Jonah's bad side to save her.

So, why did she feel like she had to reassure Sherise? Erica wasn't close enough to Jonah to get these details, so what exactly was she supposed to do?

“What's wrong?”

Erica was startled. She hadn't even noticed that Nate had come around the corner and was standing outside of the kitchen. Twenty-one years old, he was tall, with an athletic build. He was the color of a brown nut, with thick black eyebrows that framed his handsome young face, which was made up of a distinctive nose and full lips. He had experimented with cornrows for a while, but he was back to the completely bald look, which flattered him more.

“Nothing.” She returned her attention to the food. “Just Sherise being Sherise.”

“What is that crazy chick up to now?”

Erica shook her head. “You don't want to know. Just go sit down. I'll have dinner on the table in—”

“I came to show you this,” he said. “What do I do with it?”

Nate held up a Philadelphia Eagles jersey. Seeing it put a lump in Erica's throat. She remembered that jersey all too well. It was Terrell's favorite. She and Nate always gave him a hard time for wearing it in a Washington Redskins household. She remembered telling him she would not be seen in public with him with that jersey on. The last time they went to a Redskins game, where they played the Eagles, he'd waited to put it on when she went to the ladies' room. She came back and saw it and let him have it. They argued, laughed, and went home and had sex for three hours.

“I should send it to him?” Nate said, framing it more like a question.

She nodded. “I guess, but I don't know where he is.”

When they were catching up last night, Erica made it clear to Nate that she had no contact with Terrell and didn't want any ever again.

“Well,” Nate said, “I guess I could call one of his boys and find—”

“No!” Erica pointed a finger at him. “I don't want you in contact with any of those thugs.”

Nate smiled. “It's okay, sis. I'm not that guy anymore. The last thing I want is to get involved in anything bad. I can handle myself.”

He wasn't her
baby brother
anymore. “I know you can.”

As he headed down the hallway, he said, “Don't worry. Whatever I find out, I won't tell you anything.”

She appreciated that. It had been hard enough getting over Terrell the first time she ended their engagement and broke up with him. The second time was so much more heartbreaking. She was willing to move on, but she still felt pain at the thought of him. Seeing that jersey brought a lot back to her, but she wasn't going to let it get her down. That part of her life was over. It just was, and that was that.

The second Erica showed up at Sherise's town house for a Saturday lunch with the girls, Sherise started in on her.

“I can't believe you haven't found anything out yet,” Sherise accused as Erica joined them on the plush living-room sofa.

Billie had already been there for an hour, trying to calm Sherise down, but it wasn't working. Still dressed in her pajamas and silk bathrobe, Sherise wasn't her usual self. She hadn't bothered with her appearance at all. She looked extremely tired and stressed.

“Here.” Billie offered Erica a glass of red wine. “You're going to need it.”

“I need that so bad,” Sherise added as she took a gulp from her water bottle.

“Considering this is the first time we've been able to get together since finding out about the baby,” Erica said, “I was hoping we could talk about nicer things.”

Sherise placed her hand protectively on her belly. “It's because of this baby that I'm even more desperate. And in all this time, you haven't talked to Jonah at all?”

“It was three days ago.” Erica looked around. “Where is Cady, by the way?”

“She's upstairs napping,” Billie answered as Sherise walked over to the window that looked out onto the busy Georgetown streets.

“Sit down,” Erica ordered. “You're making me nervous.”

“Not nervous enough, obviously.” Sherise did as she was told and walked back to the girls and sat in the lounge chair. “I won't be able to sleep through the night until I find out what Jonah's plan is to keep people from finding out about us.”

“Well, there isn't anything I can do about it,” Erica said. “I can't just go up and ask him.”

“Why not?” Sherise asked. “He knows you know.”

“He's not going to tell me,” Erica argued. “He's knows I'd be asking for you. He's not giving me any information that I could give you.”

“Maybe you can get it another way?” Sherise asked. “I've been thinking. He has to tell whoever he's hired to backtrack and get rid of records and all that stuff, right? That's what rich people do when they're about to be investigated. You can find out who that is and sneak in—”

“Are you nuts?” Erica asked. “We're talking about Jonah Nolan. No one sneaks in on anything that has to do with him.”

“Your thug of a boyfriend did,” Sherise said.

Erica glared at her. “Fuck off talking about Terrell. Besides, he wasn't running for vice president then. Now that he is, his shit is gonna be on lockdown. It's not happening.”

“What if you don't have to sneak?” Billie asked as both women turned to her. “What if you had access?”

“I don't,” Erica said just as she realized what Billie was thinking. “No, I'm not doing it.”

“Doing what?” Sherise asked.

Erica had told Billie about Jonah's offer to come work for him. She hadn't told Sherise for obvious reasons. She didn't want to hear all of the shit Sherise would have to say to her about it. At the time, she'd assumed that Sherise would drive her crazy to keep her from taking the job, not believing that Erica would go up against her and help a man whom she hated.

“She could go work for him,” Billie said. “He's asked her.”

“And I turned him down,” Erica maintained.

“Why didn't you tell me about this?” Sherise asked, her heart leaping in her throat. “This is . . . Oh, my God, Erica, this is it! You can get access to everything.”

Erica fell back on the sofa and let out a big sigh, wanting to crack Billie in her head for letting that out.

“I don't want to go work for Jonah,” she stated. “This is way too complicated. I could explain it to you, but both of you never want to hear about anything that has to do with Jonah.”

“How could you be so selfish?” Sherise asked.

“Hold on a minute,” Billie warned her. “It's true. This is a seriously emotional issue for Erica. It could—”

“For fuck sake,” Sherise said, “you have an asshole for a father. Join the club and get the fuck over it.”

“I'm not going to deal with that at your pace,” Erica said. “I'm not gonna be forced because you have secrets you need to keep.”