Sweet Southern Betrayal (13 page)

Teague resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d heard this whine from her often enough over the years he’d known her.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Risa said from his side and he turned to look at her, knowing he wasn’t hiding his surprise at her agreement. What little he knew of her did not jibe with this. She flicked a glance at him and the edgy mischief there set off the alarm bells in his head. “Who wants a bunch of do-gooders coming around to make themselves feel better while they gawk at the poor people who have nowhere else to go? It makes the entire situation entirely too awkward.”

Risa’s sarcasm was lost on Olivia, who plodded on, missing the uncomfortable looks that were now passing around the table. “I
know
. The current structure works just fine and saves everyone the embarrassment.”

Teague pressed his knee against Risa, and she reached under the table, grabbing his thigh, her fingernails digging in enough to warn him to back off. She smiled sweetly as she delivered the final blow. “Absolutely. I know when I was sixteen and homeless, the last thing I wanted to experience at the shelter was a little bit of actual human kindness.”

Teague barely registered whatever response Olivia made. All he could think of was what Risa had revealed about her past. He could barely breathe with the picture of a young, vulnerable Risa left on the street, having to protect herself against God knows what. He blindly groped around under the table until her found her hand—cold as ice—and wove their fingers together. He squeezed lightly and she answered with one of her own before she withdrew and rose from the table.

“Excuse me. I need to freshen up.”

He rose with her, grabbing her hand again, and following her over to the doorway that led out of the private dining room. She kept walking, but gave little resistance when he circled her waist with his arm and pulled her to him.

“You okay?” he asked, dipping down to look at her face. When she looked up he saw anger and regret warring for dominance in her eyes.

“I’m fine. She’s an unbelievable bitch.” She clapped a hand over her mouth, alarm written all over her expression. She took a deep breath, casting a quick glance around before she looked at him again. “I’m sorry. That was…”

“No, it was fine. Olivia deserved it. Her remarks were thoughtless and embarrassing.” Teague tightened his hold on her. “Are
you
okay? What you said…”

“Later.” Risa’s fingers tightened where they gripped his arms, but it was the pleading in her voice that stopped him from asking any further questions.

“Later.”

She nodded and withdrew from his arms, heading down the hallway to the restroom.

Her departure signaled a general shift of people to excuse themselves or re-form into smaller conversational groups. As he returned to his seat, Olivia got up from the table, back stiff and face cold, and headed in the general vicinity of the ladies’ lounge. That couldn’t be good.

“I put five bucks on Risa to knock Olivia on her bony ass,” Leland murmured only loud enough for Teague to hear.

Teague chuckled at the visual. “I know better than to bet against Risa,” he said before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“She’s quite beautiful. Poised. Easy and charming,” Leland said. “She’ll look great on campaign posters.”

“I agree.” The thought that she wouldn’t be around to be on any campaign poster crossed his mind and he schooled his features to not let it show. “I am a lucky man.”

“You are.”

“What she just talked about, the homeless thing, that will play well for the voters as well.” Leland took another sip of his drink. “You can’t buy that kind of demographic targeting.”

“I don’t think she was homeless so she could help my eventual campaign,” Teague said, biting back the temper that flared in his gut. Leland was talking about Risa as if she were a prop for a movie and not a child who’d been forced to live on the streets.

Silence descended between them and he didn’t jump in to fill it.

“Quite an interesting business she has on the side.”

There it was. Leland had done his homework. “Behind Closed Doors? Yes, she’s proud of it.”

“As she should be. It’s quite innovative, although undercapitalized as most start-ups are these days.”

“True.” Teague squirmed at the evidence of how busy the firm’s investigators had been the last twenty-four hours. He would be at a disadvantage until Jack got him the results of his own inquiry. He would have to read carefully.

“Maybe she could be persuaded to try a new venture. There are many other things with less risk that the firm would be happy to assist with financially.”

The coded message was loud and clear: you cannot have a wife who peddles vibrators.

“I’ll discuss it with her. I’m sure she’d be happy to look at all opportunities,” Teague said, smiling at Leland over the rim of his glass. It was an easy promise to make when he knew she would be out of his life soon.

…

Risa stood at the mirror in the ladies’ lounge counting down the minutes until Olivia made her entrance and had it out with her as they did in all the movies. She reapplied her lipstick, wishing she’d hurry the hell up.

The woman didn’t intimidate her with her prep school accent and glittering jewelry hanging off every possible location on her body. The hair was dyed, the eyes Botoxed, and Risa would bet money she’d seen the telltale seam of Spanx under her black cocktail dress. Olivia had chosen the wrong size—one thing showgirls knew how to do was buy the right undergarments.

She hoped she hadn’t caused any problems for Teague—he didn’t appear mad—but the moment had been awkward and entirely her doing. Not exactly how he’d asked her to help him out. Her phone buzzed in her handbag and she jumped, her hand slipping and smudging the line of her lipstick. Big Tony had started calling more frequently, so much that she dreaded any buzz or beep from her phone. She’d turn it off, but it was the only number the rehab place had in case Pepper needed her.

“Shit.” Risa placed the tube on the counter and fished the phone out of the bag and tapped the screen.
Missed call.
The same number Big Tony had used before. No message this time, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Shoving the phone back inside the handbag, she grabbed a tissue and fixed the mess she’d made of her lipstick.

The door opened and Olivia walked inside, giving the space a quick once-over.

“We’re the only ones in here,” Risa said, turning back to the mirror for a final adjustment, grateful her voice was steady. She didn’t want Olivia to think she’d spooked her. “Say whatever you want to say so I can get back to my husband.”

“I can’t believe he married you. Who
are
you?”

“I’m Mrs. William Teague Elliott IV. I thought we’d established that already. Or are you having trouble keeping up?”

“You’re a bitch.” Olivia advanced on her, but Risa was at least an inch taller in her heels so the effort was wasted. This woman had no idea what she was made of, what she’d lived through, and just how strong she was. Risa had stopped apologizing for her background a long time ago.

She faced Olivia fully, resisting the urge to give her a wink. There was no need to be cruel. “Very true. But I’m the bitch he’s sleeping with now.”

Olivia stared at her, the expression on her face giving away more than she probably intended. She
was
hurt—no, confused, perplexed—and Risa understood all too clearly. This woman had been involved with Teague, had fallen in love with him or at least cared for him deeply, and from what Risa knew, he had no idea.

She reached out a hand to the woman, but Olivia rallied, shaking her head and erasing anything from her face except resignation. She stepped back, casting a derisive glance down at the hand Risa had extended.

“Good luck with him, honey. If you can live with playing a distant second to his ambition you should be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Risa said. She wasn’t going to be around long enough for it to matter.

“You should be.” Olivia stepped forward, the first sign of actual compassion on her face and it gave Risa pause. “I don’t know what kind of thing is going on between you two, but Teague has a way of getting in without even trying.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You will.” And then she left, leaving Risa with the knowledge she knew
exactly
what she was talking about.

Chapter Eleven

“Can we pull over?” Risa asked.

Teague glanced over into the passenger seat of his car to observe her. She was leaning toward her window, face practically mashed against the glass to see the sights. When they’d left the dinner, Risa had begged for him to take the slightly longer way home so she could see the monuments and memorials lit up. He’d been too surprised to say anything but yes. He was glad he had. She was enraptured with every location and he loved seeing the way her eyes glowed with her excitement.

“Sure we can pull over. The monuments are mostly open twenty-four hours a day so just pick the one you want to see tonight.”

“The Jefferson Memorial,” she said as her finger pointed at the large white marble structure that glowed in the moonlight. “I want to see the reflection in the Tidal Basin.”

“You got it.” He spent the next couple of minutes negotiating DC traffic and finding a space to park near the memorial. The lot was almost deserted, but some cars remained and he could see a few groups of people taking moonlight strolls along the long path that curved along the Tidal Basin towards the Lincoln Memorial.

He paused as he killed the engine and pocketed his keys, making sure Risa was okay. When she’d emerged from the ladies’ room she’d played her role to perfection, but there was a hesitation that had not been present before she talked to Olivia. He hoped Risa would fill him in, but he knew better than to push before she was ready.

They exited the car and he took her hand in his and led Risa over to the huge building and up the steps to the place where the large statute of President Jefferson held court over the city and the river. He let her go then and watched as she took her time, soaking it all in. After a while she walked to the edge and they ended up seated on the steps, looking out at the Potomac River. It was quiet tonight, the current providing just enough movement to distort the image of the moon in its surface.

“Have you been here before?” he asked, positioning her on the seat below him, so she could lean back between his legs and use him as a backrest. He wrapped her in his arms, giving her some protection from the subtle breeze coming up from the river. She was warm, soft, and scented with her unique combination of citrus and spice.

“Never.” She kept her eyes trained on the scenery. “You have, I bet.”

“All the time to run by them, but it has been a decade since I actually came to the monuments.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, looking toward the Lincoln, and spying it lit up like a white beacon in the distance. “I don’t know. Tourist city syndrome, I guess. I live here so I don’t really see what’s here.”

“I think they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. I grew up in Vegas and it’s all lights and flash. But it’s tawdry, overdone. The only goal is to cram as much as you can into the smallest space possible and outdo the neighbors. This—” She gestured to the building around them. “This is simple. This is pure.”

“I don’t want to burst your bubble, but this is Washington, DC. I wouldn’t exactly call it pure.”

“I’m not talking about the politics.” She shook her head, her arms stretching out wider to encompass the area around them. “This is what I’m talking about. The celebration of the idea that anyone could be something more if they wanted. No matter where you’re from or what happened to you, this is where you can change it.” She dipped her head and laughed. “I must sound really hokey to you.”

“Maybe a little.” He kissed her hair, drawing her deeper into his embrace when the wind kicked up a little. He had a million questions and wasn’t sure she’d welcome them or answer them. “So…what you said at dinner…”

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed your friends and you.”

“You didn’t embarrass me.” He paused, thinking back over the evening. “They aren’t my friends. I work with them. We help each other when it’s convenient, but we’re not friends. There’s a difference. My friends are back in Elliott.”

“I’m glad. They’re like pod people.”

He laughed, knowing her description summed it all up.

“They aren’t anything like your friends back in Elliott. How can you stand the difference? Being surrounded by such fake people when you know what it’s like to have people who really love you?”

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Is it worth it?”

“It has to be.” He paused, surprising himself with an admission he’d never made to anyone. “The truth is that people always let you down. Look at my father for a recent example. So if you expect it then you’re never disappointed.”

“But then you never really get to know anybody. You never let anyone in.”