The Kept Woman (30 page)

"As any good campaign manager would. I'll be there tonight for you if you wish."

Jack nodded. "Thanks."

Marguerite headed toward the door of Gordon's office and was about to wish Jack well tonight. But when she turned toward her son she saw Gordon instead—handsome, cunning, strong Gordon, who, though certainly capable, never would have accomplished what he had without her love. It dawned on her that Jack must have found that in Samantha Monroe, as odd as it seemed.

"I want you to know that I am so very proud of you, son." Marguerite knew she needed to be quick about this because her voice was faltering. "You are a good man. And whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know I'm proud."

She exited, determined that he wouldn't see her cry.

"Where are you right now? Right this instant?"

"Hoo-iz-schish?"

"Christy? I've been calling you for an hour. What the hell's wrong with you?"

"I jush had my roral surshery. Whash up, Big B? Wanna go to my playsh? Bring yer hancuffsh."

Brandon pulled his cell phone away from his ear and stared at it.
No. No fucking way did she just get her wisdom teeth out
.

"Where are you, Christy? Answer me."

"I jush love it when you get all bosshy like that."

"
Where are you?
"

"In my car."

"Don't tell me you're driving."

"'K, I won't tell you."

"Pull over. Where are you? I'll come get you."

"Ooooh God, yessh. We gonna do it in your car?"

"Give me an address."

"Four score and scheven years ago. . ." Christy began laughing hysterically and Brandon heard brakes squealing in the background, followed by slurred curses.

"I got the tape, Christy. Focus on what I'm saying, here. I found Mitch. I have the tape in my hand and it really does have Samantha saying she was hired to pose as Jack's fiancee. You were right. Do you understand me?"

"No waaaaay. I gotta get to the schtashun."

"Yes, you do. I'm going to ask one more time. Where the
fuck
are you?"

"Well, I think I took Tenth Schtreet over to College Avenue, but I took out my contactsch for the schurshery, so I'm not really sure, but I'm just now turning left."

"Stop! College is one-way going right."

"Scheriously?"

"Get out of the car. Wait on the sidewalk. I'll come get you."

"'K. Bring the hancuffshs."

Brandon cut through town as fast as he could manage, and just as he was reaching the intersection of Ohio and Pennsylvania he saw the strangest thing—a little red Nissan 350Z convertible moving north on the southbound street. It was Christy, and she drove right on up on the sidewalk in front of
The Indianapolis Star
, scattering screaming pedestrians and taking out three newspaper boxes and two parking meters before she thumped to a stop, the front end of her sports car kissing the red brick exterior of the newspaper building.

Brandon did a U-turn. He took advantage of the mayhem and left his car in the middle of the street for a quick getaway. He ran to the sidewalk, just in time to see Christy emerge from the wreckage. She seemed unhurt but was drooling, laughing, and pointing at the newspapers strewn everywhere. Brandon grabbed her by the hand and tried to get her to come with him, just as two photographers burst through the
Star
's front door. Talk about a photo opportunity!

"Let's go." He made eye contact with her. "Now."

"Isn't that Christy Schoen, the TV chick?" One of the photographers lowered his camera and stared in disbelief. "Hey, man, is that Christy Schoen? Is she wasted?"

"No." Brandon shoved Christy in his car and drove off, knowing he could be charged as an accessory to whatever plethora of felonies and misdemeanors Christy would soon face. It was now 4:40
P.M.
She still had time to get this on the air if she could stay out of police custody for a while longer. "When's your deadline for the six o'clock news?"

Christy face was turned away from him.

"How much time do you have?"

"When did the trees get so tiny?" she asked. "Is my car OK?"

"Christy. You need to focus."

She turned toward him, her eyes half-open. "Sho what exshactly did the that schlut elf bitch say on the tape?"

Nothing looked right on her. The doctor said she was about eleven weeks along, but her belly had already popped. Sam looked like this when she was about five months pregnant with Lily. She didn't even want to picture herself with two full-term babies living in her abdomen. She'd be as wide as she was tall.

"How about this?" Monte said, holding out a black skirt and a white lace blouse.

"Too severe."

Monte grabbed the hanger that displayed the expensive brown suit with burgundy velvet piping.

"I wore that at Jack's first debate."

"Nobody will remember."

"Kara said never to repeat wardrobe at public events. And besides, it's too hot for May and I'm pregnant, remember? An unwed mother? A homeless, unwed mother of five?"

Monte stared at her blankly. "How about this one?"

"Who cares what I wear tonight, anyway?" Sam grabbed the moss green sheath dress. "I won't be on TV. Jack's just giving a speech. This is old, but it's fine."

Sam stepped into the dress and a pair of taupe pumps. Monte zipped her up the back. Sam added some little dangly earrings with green beads. She found a simple beige purse and held it over her bulging belly. "Will this work?"

Monte nodded. "You look fine, Sam. Just fine."

"
Mom! Mom!
" It was Greg, and he was calling for her all the way down in the foyer. He sounded panicked. "Turn on Channel Ten! Now!"

Sam's heart beat wildly. Had Jack been in an accident? Monte ran to the entertainment armoire and flung open the doors, grabbing the remote, just at Lily, Greg, and Dakota burst into the suite.

They all stared, in silence, as the anchor introduced that night's top story.

"We are so busted," Lily said.

It was almost too painful for Brandon to watch. The makeup people had begged Christy to remove the gauze packing before she went on camera, but she'd refused. She'd asked them, "Whicsh is worsh for our viewersh? A little gausheze or blood dripping down my schin like I'm Mrs. Dracula?"

At least she'd sobered up some. She couldn't drink coffee, but she'd put off taking any pain medication and the anesthesia was wearing off. Christy and the producer had worked like fiends throwing together the segment, while the news director hovered over Christy and repeatedly asked her, "Are you sure about the authenticity of this? Are you absolutely sure?"

Just as she was racing down the hall and into makeup, the police arrived. The four officers assigned to bring her in agreed to wait until the commercial break before they took her to the station for a little chat about property damage, reckless endangerment, and driving while intoxicated.

So there she was. Christy was getting her moment of glory. She was breaking the story she was convinced would be the crowning achievement of her career. But damn, Brandon had sure seen her look better. Her speech was noticeably slurred. She'd just drooled a little. She had at least three zits. And the police were getting restless.

He wasn't so sure this would end up the way Christy had envisioned.

Kara stood in the center of the Sunset Lane office, remarkably calm and clearly in charge.

Stuart, Jack, and Marguerite were instructed to stand behind the big mahogany desk. Sam and Monte were invited to sit on the couch. Kara stood in the middle, her feet planted wide, remote control in hand.

"All right, people. Jack's speech is scheduled to start in an hour. It's a twenty-minute car ride to the hotel. That means we have forty minutes to find out what exactly happened here and what we plan to do about it. Everyone turn off your cell phones and pagers. Any questions so far?"

No one moved.

"Happy viewing." With one click, Christy Schoen's segment played. Sam had already seen it, so she looked at Jack instead. He must have felt her, because he caught her eye. What Sam wouldn't give to know what was going on behind that mask. Did he think she had betrayed him? Did he hate her? Would he believe her when she told him the truth?

"Is Christy drooling?" Stuart asked in disbelief. "What the—"

"Her wisdom teeth," Jack muttered.

Sam looked to Marguerite, who stared back at her with disdain.

"Lord have mercy," Monte whispered to Sam. "This is sure gonna be an interesting little get-together."

Christy's voice was so slurred and the room was so full of tension that Sam had to fight back laughter when the segment began. "In a schocking development on the political front,
Channel Ten Action Newsch at Six
hash learned that U.S. Schenate candidate Jack Tolliver paid a woman to posche ash hish fianshay in order to win votesch."

Christy went on to explain the arrangement in a mostly accurate, but slurred, way, then played the audiotape of Sam talking in the City-County stairwell. They ran her words along the bottom of the screen for dramatic effect. Of course, Christy failed to mention who taped the conversation, how she got it, or whom Sam was talking to.

Christy ended her report with, "Neither Tolliver nor any of his campaign offishcialsh could be reached for comment on this excschlushive report."

Kara clicked it off, then looked at each person in the room for one second. "We're going to do this Q and A style. I want your answers to be quick and I want them to be honest."

Kara looked at Sam, suddenly at a loss for words. Sam launched right into it.

"Mitch—my ex-husband, Mitchell Bergen—came back to town, paid off all the money he owed in child support, then was waiting for me in the City-County Building when I went to pick up the check. He became hysterical at the idea of Jack—" Sam raised her eyes to see Jack listening intently. "Well, he didn't like the idea that I was engaged to Jack because he could possibly adopt the kids if we got married. I told Mitch the truth to get him to calm down. Turns out he was taping it the whole time. He trapped me. I know I violated the terms of my contract when I told him and—"

"I don't give a damn about the contract," Jack said, his entire body tensed. "Did he lay a finger on you? Did he threaten you?"

"He blackmailed me. He said the only way he wouldn't release the tape to the media was if I paid him all the money I'd earned from my stipends. I wired it to an account number he gave me."

"Oh no, Sam—" Jack bolted around the desk, but Kara stiff-armed him.

"Go on. Hurry," Kara said.

"I know I should have told you, Jack, but Mitch is crazy and obviously on drugs again and I did what he said because I thought it was the only way I could protect you."

"Dear God," Marguerite said.

"Then Mitch told me. . .well, he threatened me that—" Sam couldn't help it. She started crying, and Monte squeezed her hand and told her to get it out. "OK." Sam took a deep breath. "Mitch threatened me that he'd release the tape unless I broke it off with Jack in real life—unless I told Jack it was over between us. For real. Not the contract, but our real relationship."

It was silent for several seconds. "I knew it," Stuart whispered.

Kara looked at each person in the room and surmised the situation instantly. "You mean to tell me that I am the only one in here who was in the dark about this?"

Monte chimed in. "Like the night of the ice storm. No lights. Bumping into shit everywhere."

"There's more." Sam took a deep breath and looked past Kara to Jack. "It gets worse, or better, or worse, however you want to look at it, but I think it's great."

"We have five minutes," Kara said. "So, how about we look at it real fast."

"I'm pregnant."

Jack used his quarterback experience to slide around Kara. He gathered Sam up in his arms and kissed her. Sam was trying to beg him to forgive her, but he wouldn't stop kissing her long enough so that she could get the words out.

"I want a raise," Kara said.

Marguerite lowered herself into the desk chair.

"I love you so much, Sam," Jack cried, twirling her around. "My God! This is a mess and I don't even care, because I love you and you're going to have my baby!"

"Jack, put me down a second." Sam straightened her dress. "That's not exactly true."

"Who's the father, then?" Stuart asked, apparently not getting enough drama.

"This is like
Days of Our Lives
meets
The West Wing
," Monte said.

Sam laughed, then noted the horror on Jack's face, which, thank God, was at least no longer covered in the politician mask. "Jack is most definitely the father, but it's not one baby. It's two. I'm having twins."

Jack laughed loud and put his hands on her tummy. "This is the happiest day of my life! This is all I want, Sam, your love and the children."

"Dear God in heaven," Marguerite said from the desk chair.

"But you're running for the Senate, Jack!" Kara cried.

"She's right," Sam said. "You can have me and the kids, but you're supposed to be a senator, too. It's what you've come to truly want and I won't take that away from you."

"But the voters will," Stuart said. "Unless we can convince them otherwise. Like right now."

"Everyone get in the limo," Kara said. "We'll finish this discussion on the way."

"There's nothing to discuss," Jack said, taking Sam by the hand. "I know exactly what I'm going to do."

Kara stood perfectly still, trepidation in her big brown eyes. "What's your plan?"

"I'm going to get up there on that stage and tell the truth—plain and simple."

"I haven't had a whole lot of experience with that," Kara said flatly.

"Neither have the voters," Stuart said.

"Then it will be a learning experience for everyone," Jack said. "Monte?"

Monte looked around the room to be sure there was no one else who could answer to that name. "Yes?"