Rumor Has It (4 page)

“Ah,” Liza said, then rattled off her friend's number. “Why haven't you two exchanged these pleasantries before? After all, you run in the same legal circles.”

“Well, when I saw her at a couple of NC Bar Association mixers, I just assumed that she had a man. Women like that—you included—shouldn't be single.”

Here we go
, she thought with a roll of her eyes.

“Anyway,” Robert said. “I need another favor too.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“There's a breakfast meeting in the morning with me and some heavy hitters. I want you to go with me.”

“Ooh, why aren't you taking Nic?”

“He'll be there as well. Nic said we need to show these guys that we have an organized campaign team, and you know you're a major part of this team.”

Liza beamed. “I'm glad you consider me a part of the team.”

“Come on, Liza, you've always had my back. Hell, you've believed in me more than I believed in myself at times.”

“Well, you're an easy man to cheer for,” Liza said. “Who's this meeting with?”

“Some donors and possibly my competition. Ever hear of a guy named Jackson Franklin?”

“Briefly. I've seen a few local features on him. I haven't had a chance to really look into his background.” Liza immediately typed his name into the search engine. Links populated showing photos and stories about war hero Jackson Franklin. People loved a war hero turned politician. This was going to be trouble as well as the fact that he was fine as frog's hair and had made her heart skip several beats when he shook her hand at the bakery.

“From what I just Googled, this guy is going to be a tough adversary.”

“Why is that?”

“War hero, pretty attractive, and a down-to-earth guy, from what I'm reading online.”

“What the hell does he know about politics?” She could tell that Robert was annoyed. That's why she didn't tell him that war heroes made good candidates and all he had to do was look at John McCain.

“It isn't about what he knows,” she said. “It's about what the public will perceive he knows.”

“How do we combat that?”

“You're not going to like the answer.”

Robert groaned. “Liza, don't start this background bullshit again. I'm not going to advertise that my mother was a crackhead who left me on my own.”

“Voters will identify with you and it will level the playing field,” she said with a frustrated sigh.

“I'm not doing that, Liza, playing field be damned.”

“Then what's your plan?” she asked.

“That's why I need you. And I need you to come up with something good.”

Rolling her eyes, all Liza wanted to do was reach through the phone and slap sense into her friend. “I guess we can just go back as far as college. You made some great impressions on professors at UNC and we can get some of them to do some ‘I knew he'd make it' endorsements.”

“I don't know what I'd do without you, Liza.”

“You'd suffer and never meet a quality woman to save your life.”

“Whatever. Be on time, please,” he said.

“I'm never late. Where is this meeting taking place?”

“Shooting you an e-mail with the details. Thank you, Liza.”

After hanging up with Robert, Liza continued her research on Jackson Franklin. His pictures did him no justice at all. She remembered how he'd looked at Amelie's: tall, muscular, and a disarming smile. That made her nervous and excited at the same time. Women voters would flock to him, and men would probably put more trust in the war hero than the lawyer.
We can make this work. Jackson Franklin won't stand a chance
, she thought. But she couldn't stop looking at his picture.

Chapter 5

Jackson sat in front of his computer reading the information that Teresa sent over to him about Robert Montgomery. A criminal lawyer with a UNC–Chapel Hill education, a member in good standing with the North Carolina Bar Association, a mentor with the Charlotte area Big Brothers Big Sisters organization, and it went on and on. Jackson was almost ready to just jump on Montgomery's bandwagon. He seemed like a viable candidate. Maybe Jackson could funnel his ideas to Robert and instead of spending money to fight it out on Election Day they could use their money to work on some of the projects to help the wounded warriors and low-income families. Maybe he wouldn't have to leave the front lines to make sure things got done. Maybe he and Robert could be allies.

Closing out the files, Jackson decided that since he was going to meet this Montgomery guy in the morning, if he lived up to his press clippings, then he'd tell him they could work together on bringing change to the General Assembly. He knew for a fact that Teresa would be pissed and his career in politics would be over. He probably wouldn't even be able to get elected dogcatcher after doing this, but he wasn't throwing his hat in the ring for himself. He was doing it to help people. If he and Robert shared the same views, then only one of them needed to be in Raleigh.

Jackson smiled as he shut his computer down. Deciding to head for the gym, he was going to work on a plan to save the center where he worked, instead of a political strategy.

Jackson's cell phone rang as he changed into a pair of compression pants. “Damn,” he muttered. “This is Jackson.”

“I don't like to be stood up by my candidates. It is now seven P.M.; you were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” Teresa sighed. “You're unsure about yourself, aren't you?”

“Maybe Montgomery is better for this than I am. From the looks of what you sent me, he's been spending his whole life getting ready for politics.”

“Where are you? A gym or a bar?”

“On my way to the gym. Why do you ask?”

“Wanted to make sure you were actually thinking clearly. Here's the deal: Robert Montgomery has been getting ready for power. I don't think he's better. So, get over here and let's put a plan together.”

Jackson sighed and told her he'd be right over. When he arrived at Teresa's office, he expected her to give him a stern talking to and threaten to quit. Instead, she handed him a thick file.

“We need to study this and make sure we can beat him.” She offered him a seat across from her desk, which was covered with papers, newspaper clippings, and a plate of hummus and pita chips.

“You don't think he could be good for the district?” Jackson asked as he flipped through the file.

“Read page eight and your question will be answered.”

Jackson read the copy of the
Daily Tar Heel
from fifteen years ago. Montgomery had been implicated in a sexual assault. He and three other guys in his fraternity had been accused of raping a girl at a party. Robert, who had been attending UNC on a scholarship, said he never would've done anything like that. At the bottom of the page, there was a note written about a settlement that was offered to the girl, who then dropped out of school.

“We all did things in college that—”

“This,” she said, “speaks to his character. We can't have this kind of man representing us. Someone who throws money at problems? Someone who doesn't respect women? This kind of stuff doesn't go away.”

Jackson gritted his teeth. She was right. But the one thing he was against was playing dirty. “What are we going to do with this information?”

“Nothing, but we have to know who we're running against. Don't think that they aren't across town looking into your past and putting together a file just like this. The difference is, anything that stains your past, they are probably going to use it.”

Jackson chuckled. “Not saying that I'm perfect, but I don't have a criminal background, my service record is clean, and my ex left me.”

Teresa smiled. “You think I didn't know that? Hillary McMillian, your ex-fiancée, had nothing but great things to say about you. She might call you—if your number is the same.”

Jackson snorted, thinking that if Hillary called him, she'd be in for a surprise, since he changed his number the day he returned from Iraq and found her in bed with some random dude. He'd heard about loved ones at home cheating on servicemen, but he'd known Hillary was different. She had always been available when he called or Skyped her, and she sent letters. Every week he'd received a love letter from his woman detailing what they'd do as soon as he got home.

When he'd arrived home, trying to surprise his woman—the love of his life—the surprise had been on him. Hillary had been in bed with another man, screaming out his name while she rode him with zeal and zest. Passion that he'd thought had been reserved for him. Devastated and heartbroken, Jackson had to leave before he snapped. He went to the VA hospital seeking help. He felt as if the war had robbed him of everything. That's where he'd met Daniel. Before his second tour and the injury. The injury that removed him from active duty and branded him a hero. In some of his darkest days, Jackson had wished he'd died that day. It was because of Daniel that he'd been able to work through his posttraumatic stress and not swallow a gun.

“Jackson,” Teresa asked. “Are you listening?”

“I was thinking,” he said. “I've had some dark times and some people might look at that as a weakness.”

“Getting help and turning around to help others is what makes you strong,” she said. “Is that why you thought you should throw in withMontgomery? Anyone that he's ever helped, it was because of money. He's what's wrong with Raleigh. That's not the man we need to hand this district over to.”

An hour later, Jackson and Teresa had hammered out the talking points of his campaign. The one thing Teresa told him to do at the breakfast was to be himself. “Don't be slick and polished like I'm sure Robert will be.”

Jackson snorted. “I wouldn't know how to do that if I tried.” As he drove home, he couldn't shake Hillary from his thoughts. He hadn't thought about her in years. Of course she'd probably be interested now that he was doing something that would put him in the spotlight.

The next morning, as Jackson waited at the restaurant where the meeting was to take place, he wasn't surprised to see Robert arriving with three people in tow. It was the woman who caught his eye. He'd seen her somewhere before. Yes, at Amelie's. Liza Palmer. Glancing at her curvaceous figure stirred something inside him.
Damn, he's lucky if that's his wife
, he thought as he watched the shapely sister cross over to the table where Jackson was already seated.
I guess this explains why I couldn't win her vote with a handshake.
She sparkled in a polished, supermodel way, and a part of him wondered what she'd look like stripped bare. Hair down, face scrubbed free of makeup, and barefoot.
Stop lusting after this man's wife,
Jackson admonished as he rose to his feet. “Good morning,” he said. “I'm Jackson Franklin.” He extended his hand to Robert, who turned his nose up at him.

“I know who you are,” Robert said. Liza stepped between them and took Jackson's hand.

“Liza Palmer,” she said, flashing Jackson a smile that sent chills down his spine.

“Nice to meet you, again.”

“I have to say,” she began, “thank you for your service, but why do you think you're ready to serve in office?”

Bold question.
“I think fighting in Iraq has prepared me for everything. What makes your husband ready?”

Liza's laughter filled the air. “My husband? I guess you think that a woman's place is behind a man?”

“Liza,” Nic said, shaking his head. “This isn't the time.” Robert shot her a look that quieted her right away.

“We're just here to meet with donors and maybe even sway Mr. Jackson to our side,” Nic said with a plastic smile.

“Sergeant Franklin,” Jackson corrected.
You pompous jackass
.

“Sorry about that,” Nic said hollowly. Their chatter stopped when U.S. Senator Thomas Watson walked in.

The representative from the ninth district had been a member of Congress for fifteen years and earned every ounce of respect that flowed in the room. “Good morning,” he boomed. “I was just expecting two people, but I guess it's a good thing I overordered.” He worked the room, shaking hands with everyone. Jackson wondered if he'd ever be that smooth.

“Sergeant Franklin, it is an honor to have you here,” the senator said. When he took his seat, everyone else followed suit.

“Senator,” Nic said, “we are thankful to have your support. But I have to ask . . .”

“I love the state of North Carolina and I hate what the General Assembly has been doing. This new district is nothing but gerrymandering. The last thing I want to see is two powerful black men tearing each other down to win a seat that—at the end of the day—won't mean much.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jackson asked.

Robert nodded. “This seat is going to be important to a lot of people in North Carolina.”

“That's total bullshit,” the senator said with a laugh. “Either of you noticed what is being changed, here? The lines have been redrawn; the African American politicians are being pushed out. This new district is just a slap in the face to the work that has been done in this state.”

“Senator, I don't think it matters about the redistricting rules. If the right man is in place to reach across party lines to build coalitions, then we can still help the citizens of North Carolina,” Robert said with a smile. “I don't plan to run a dirty campaign. If Mr. Franklin agrees to make the same promise, then I don't see a problem. There are eleven other candidates running for this seat. Why are you telling us to drop out?”

As much as Jackson wanted to tell Robert where he could stick his campaign promises, he had to admit that he posed a great question.

“Two reasons: I don't think either of you is ready.” The senator turned to Jackson. “And the hands-on work you're doing with wounded warriors is better than anything you would be able to do in Raleigh.” He nodded toward Robert. “Your law firm has worked with the Innocence Project and gotten three people off death row who didn't belong there.”

Robert folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. “Sounds like I—either one of us—is the kind of candidate who needs to run.”

“Not for this seat,” he replied. “This is a joke. Don't be fooled by what the status quo is doing.”

“What's being done is a bullying of poor people, politicians turning their backs on the men and women who put their lives on the line to defend this country. On a state and national level, this is what's going on, and if we don't have voices in government that want to do the right thing, then how will anything change?” Jackson said.

The senator wiped his face with a napkin. “My point has been proven.”

Everyone at the table looked around at one another in disbelief. “What is this all about?” Nic asked.

 

 

Liza couldn't take her eyes off Jackson Franklin. He was gorgeous with those haunting green eyes and caramel skin. Then when he spoke, he was pretty amazing. Too bad they weren't on the same side. This was Robert's seat and Jackson needed to stick to what he was doing. She'd done the research; he counseled wounded warriors who returned home from the war. He knew what they were going through because he'd been hurt in combat as well. Though, sitting across from him, she couldn't see any wounds, scars, or anything other than a man who looked as if he was going to connect with voters. He would be serious competition for Robert.

Finally, she forced herself to look away and pay attention to what Nic and the senator were saying. His point was proven? Wait. What?

“What I mean,” the senator continued, “is you two are the best candidates in the primary. I'm willing to talk to the other crackpots who threw their names in the hat just because they have nothing better to do. But I'm serious about what I said; I don't want to see you two tearing each other down. Both of you have a future in this state and national politics—if you're doing this for the right reasons.”

Liza smiled and nodded. She started to chime in, but she felt Jackson's eyes on her. She looked up and they locked eyes. The half smile on his lips sent a ripple down her spine.
Let me stop staring at this man. He's the enemy
, she told herself as she looked down at her iPad. Busying herself with fake note taking, Liza tried not to think about sliding Jackson's shirt off his broad shoulders. Her stylus slipped from her fingers and rolled underneath the table, landing at Jackson's feet. She looked down at his leather shoes and the adage about men with big feet replayed in her mind. “Jesus,” she muttered.

Jackson reached down and picked up the stylus, then held it out to Liza.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded and turned his attention back to the long-winded senator. Two hours later, both sides were leaving with donations and more advice than they would ever be able to use.

When Robert and Liza hopped into his car, he turned to his friend. “Why didn't you just rip your clothes off and hop on that man's lap?” Robert spat.

“Excuse me?”

“The looks you were giving Franklin! I mean, damn, Liza, I know you need to get laid but—”

“You'd better watch your damned mouth, Robert. I don't know what the hell your problem is but I will—”