Big Fat Disaster (6 page)

Rachel ripped the ear buds from my ears and yanked the pillow from my face.

“What the hell happened; did somebody break in? Why is Mom and Dad’s bedroom door locked? Where’s Drew? I got this weird voicemail from Mom, so I made Chris leave the movie early to bring me home.” Rachel is completely freaked out.

Where do I even begin?

I sit cross-legged on my bed and tell my sister everything that’s happened from the time she walked out of Dad’s office—except for me eating a whole box of Ding Dongs—until Dad left to do his thinking about an hour ago. She doesn’t believe me, and when she turns to leave my room, I jump up and grab her arm. I repeat it all, and she shoves me to the floor.

“This is
all your fault
! If you hadn’t spilled that coffee, none of this would be happening! I hate you!” She slams my door on her way out.

I crawl onto my bed, place the pillow over my face, and try again to suffocate myself.

Later that evening, Rachel and I are watching a reality show about wives who kill their husbands but always get caught. Mom’s phone is on the kitchen counter, and it keeps ringing and buzzing with text messages. The landline rings constantly, too, as one reporter after another asks to speak to her.

Rachel and I tell them that Mom’s unavailable, so they start grilling
us
about what the F.B.I. guys took out of our house. We break our parents’ rule of never conversing with the press and ask them questions right back. We find out that Dad called an emergency meeting of his campaign committee and told them that he’s left our mother for a woman he met at the big conference in April. He resigned from the campaign, effective immediately, and walked out of the meeting. Nobody knows where he is, and the rumor is that he’s a danger to himself. Rachel turns off the TV, and we sit side by side on the sofa.

When Rachel and I can’t stop crying, we turn off Mom’s phone and unplug the landline. Rachel’s friends keep texting her to ask what happened, and she finally turns off
her
phone. I’ve never seen her do that.

It gets worse. A News Ten van shows up in front of our house just as it’s getting dark outside. The crew sets up lights and I try to watch as a lady reporter stands on the lawn and interviews the guy Dad was running against, but Rachel pulls me away from the window.

We ignore it when the reporter rings the doorbell and calls, “Mrs. Denton? Mrs. Denton, would you like to comment on your husband’s probable arrest?”

I ask Rachel, “Is it against the law to cheat on your wife?”

She shrugs.

“You think the F.B.I. found something here?”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Just shut up.”

The reporter goes around the house tapping on the windows, so we hide in the hallway.

Mom emerges from her room around ten o’clock. The three of us sit in the dark in silence that is broken only by our sniffling. Finally, Mom asks, “Are you girls hungry? I can heat up a pizza.”

Rachel and I shake our heads. It hasn’t been hard to avoid eating today. I can’t stand the idea of food. My stomach’s still kicking back the Ding Dongs, and that makes me think about spilling the coffee. Then this whole shitty day replays in my head.

We watch the news. The plastic-faced anchorman looks very serious next to a photo of my father from a rally he held about a month ago. Dad looks like a crazy person. I think they chose the worst picture they could.

“Good evening. Thank you for joining us. I’m Gerald Higgins. News Ten is the
only
station to bring you the breaking story of a candidate for the United States Senate who ran on a family values platform—but we’ve learned that his
own
marriage may be in trouble.” He turns to his equally fake-looking cohost. “Deborah?”

“Thanks, Gerald, and good evening, everyone. I’m Deborah Walters. News Ten became aware of this story after a member of Reese Denton’s campaign staff called our tip line to report that the successful investment banker and senatorial candidate—who is incidentally an
outspoken
advocate for the preservation of the family unit—confessed today that he left his wife for another woman. And that’s not the
only
disturbing aspect of this story. The source went on to tell News Ten that Mr. Denton is also being investigated by the F.B.I. and local law enforcement because of allegations that he has stolen from both his campaign
and
his investment firm’s clients.”

Mom gasps and makes a strangled cry. She claps her hand over her mouth and bends at the waist. Rachel and I put our hands on her back and rub at the same time. Our hands touch, and we lock eyes.

Deborah continues, “Even though he was leading in the polls, Mr. Denton quit the campaign, leaving his supporters stunned and seeking answers.”

Gerald turns to another camera. “That’s right, Deborah. As soon as the story broke, our own Susie Harlan contacted Tim Deaver, Reese Denton’s opponent, to see what he has to say about the suddenly unopposed political race that he finds himself in. They met in front of the Denton home, which the F.B.I. and local law enforcement searched this afternoon.”

The story opens with a close-up of our house, and Mom practically runs from the room. “I…I can’t do this. This can’t be happening.”

Rachel and I watch Tim Deaver smile so big, it looks like his face is cracking. Susie asks, “Mr. Deaver, how do you feel about this development in the life of a man who has worked so
fervently
to defeat you in this race?”

Tim Deaver switches his face to
Serious/Sympathetic
. “It is, of course, early in the investigation, but I would hope that the voters come to the correct conclusion that the vicious rumors spread about me by the Denton campaign were just that: rumors. Who can trust a man who claimed to be the poster boy for family values but has been living a secret life?”

Susie Harlan frowns. “As you said, Mr. Deaver, it
is
early in the investigation—”

He cuts her off, breaking into a wide grin. “Traditional marriage, Susie! Right? That was Reese Denton’s platform, and yet last time I checked, that means one”—he holds up a finger—“and I mean
one
man—and
one
woman—
at a time
.” He wiggles his fingers and looks into the camera. “Hey, Reese, how’s that working for you now, hmm?” He works his eyebrows up and down, and his smile reveals teeth so white that they look like Chiclets.

I turn to Rachel. “Our lives are over. You realize that, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” she whispers. She tosses her shoes to the floor, tucks her feet under a sofa cushion, and hugs a pillow tightly against her chest.

Gerald’s back. “News Ten’s own Mario Morales brings you this exclusive interview with Mr. Denton’s campaign manager, Patrick Osmer.”

Rachel picks up a shoe and throws it at the TV. “Traitor! I never did like you!”

I ask quietly, “But what if it’s all true?”

She punches me hard in the arm. “Shut up, Colby!”

Mario Morales looks supernatural in the glare of the spotlight. He’s standing next to a huge yard sign bearing my dad’s
You Can Trust Me
face and the words
Family. Truth. Commitment. Denton
.

Mario apparently doesn’t realize he’s on the air. He laughs at someone off camera: “Yeah, you serious? Hey, I’d hit that, too…” He blinks a few times. “We’re—we’re on? We are?”

Deborah says flatly, “
Yes
, Mario, you’re
on
. Loud and clear.”

Mario switches to his somber face. “Thanks, Deborah. It may have started with allegations of using the campaign credit card to subsidize an affair, but that led to uncovering massive theft of his investment clients’ accounts. Reese Denton is now facing felony charges of embezzlement and theft with intent to defraud. I spoke with Patrick Osmer, Mr. Denton’s campaign manager, earlier this evening. We met in the office vacated just minutes before by his candidate, whose problems are just beginning.”

Mario stares awkwardly at the camera a moment or two, like he’s waiting for a signal. Finally, he says, “Uh, roll tape. Play the interview.”

My parents’ wedding portrait is on the bookcase behind Mario, who is seated in the chair near the door in my dad’s office. When I was there earlier, the picture was on the top shelf behind Dad’s desk. Guess they moved the photo.

“Mr. Osmer, according to my anonymous F.B.I. sources, an independent campaign finance auditor contacted the F.B.I. to report”—he consults his notes—“Mr. Denton’s inappropriate usage of the campaign’s credit card for personal use, substantial sums of money that are missing from the campaign coffers, and I’m told that Mr. Denton’s investment banking firm is
also
likely to be indicted for fraud because of a financial scheme that he was instrumental in perpetrating. First things first: didn’t he have permission to use the card?”

Patrick sighs heavily and nods his head. “Well, yes, he did, but certainly not for what
he
was spending money on. Shortly before resigning from the campaign, Reese admitted to using the campaign’s credit card to take his girlfriend to the Four Seasons spa; he did that three times. He bought her tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry, sent her flowers every week, and they went on weekend trips and to restaurants outside the Dallas area.” He swallows hard. “Expensive…restaurants.”

Mario prompts, “And, as far as you can tell, this began…?”

He sighs and chews his lip, then looks down at his folded hands, which are, incidentally, in the same spot that Dad’s calendar used to be. “It started in April, when Mr. Denton was in Austin for the
Family Is the Foundation
conference. The spending binge has continued since then. We’d questioned him about it, and up until now, he’d
insisted
that this had to be a mistake on the part of the credit card company. Our committee chose to keep this quiet, because we believed him. He’d never given us a reason
not
to trust him.” His eyes seem to darken, and his face turns red. He clenches his jaw and mutters, “I really don’t have anything else to say about this.”

The camera shifts to Mario. “My source tells me that it’s possible that Reese Denton will be charged with the highest-grade felony because of the amount of money he stole to lavish on his mistress. Those spa trips add up to heartache for those who love and trusted him…and to
much
more than mere credit card abuse. Law enforcement agents have been in contact with Mr. Denton, and he is expected to turn himself in tomorrow morning. Back to you, Deborah.”

“Thanks, Mario. News Ten’s own Susie Harlan reached out to Mrs. Denton for a comment on this story, but she was unresponsive.” They show footage of Susie knocking on our door, tapping on our windows, and tromping through Mom’s flowerbeds. Deborah continues, “Late this evening, Susie tracked Reese Denton to the Northside Motor Lodge downtown, but he also declined to speak with her.”

Rachel and I lean forward and watch as our father shields his face with a newspaper. He springs from his car and runs awkwardly across the parking lot. A motel room door flies open and he disappears inside. A woman’s face appears in the window just before the curtains slide closed.