"I know what this is about," Amy says.
"You're out of your element here," Susan replies. "I'm sure you know plenty about … other things … but I doubt you know much of anything in this arena."
"Other things?" Amy says.
"Oh come on," Susan smiles. "It's no secret what you do."
"And what exactly is it that you think I do?" Amy asks Susan.
I decide to jump in before the catty banter between these two women escalates into something else. What exactly, I don't know. But I don't want to find out either.
"Now, now," I say, waving one hand through the air dismissively. "Let's give it a rest."
"A rest is the last thing we need," Susan chimes in. "We need speed, momentum, and a clear action plan … with the right team. The clock's ticking."
That little dig causes Amy to bristle.
"I'm exactly what this team—" she begins to say, but I wave my hand and cut her off.
"Both of you stop," I say. "I've already made my decision. Amy's on the team, and that's final. Now, let's all start acting like we're a team."
I look at them both, and they're silent, so I turn to Susan and continue, "I trust Amy's judgment. I really do. Shouldn't that be good enough?"
Susan doesn't respond, but I can tell she's taking in what I'm saying carefully. She can sense the sincerity on my face. And then I turn to Amy and address her as well. "Look, you're on probation for now. Like I just said, I trust you, but it's going to be important for you to prove yourself. You'll need to prove to me … and to this entire team that you're a good fit, and you can bring something to the table."
For a split second I think she's going to protest, or come back with a comment of her own, but she doesn't, and I'm relieved. Finally, they both seem to understand.
Now we can move on.
I reach into my pocket to pull out my cell phone and open my calendar. I figure we should solidify this week's meetings. Maybe talk about next steps. Who to meet and where. PR events to attend.
But before I can do any of that, the office door flies open and I can hardly believe who's standing in the doorway.
The devil herself.
Kate Meelios.
She gives me an icy glare and stalks across my office, straight toward me. Her eyes remind me why we divorced in the first place. She's dressed to kill; a pencil skirt and a tight, white blouse. She means business. I can't help but watch the way the sharp tips of her stilettos jab and sink into the carpet as she walks.
"I hope you're happy," she says to me as her eyes survey the room. They're cold and the color of ice. Her thin, red lips part into a serpentine smile. She looks at Amy and then at me, and shakes her head. "I hope you're happy for stealing my daughter away from me."
"Mom—" Amy starts to say, but Susan takes this as her cue to leave the room, and we all watch as she silently leaves, hardly daring to guess what's about to come next.
I can't remember the last time Kate's been in my office, and whatever the reason for her visit today, it can't be good.
If only it were that easy for me, I think to myself as I watch Susan exit the room.
"Kate, what a pleasant surprise," I say, with a sarcastic smile. Her entrance has been anything but pleasant. It's downright painful, like being squeezed by a snake.
"Cut the crap, Parker," Kate replies, and I swear she's about ready to bare her fangs. “You hired my own daughter to defeat me from becoming Senator?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to fucking say anything.
"You do realize what this means now, right?" Kate asks, and neither Amy, nor I dare to answer.
Kate just smiles and continues. "This means war."
Amy