“What about the other claim?” Carl asked, switching topics. “If you’ve ever had problems with the police or have ever been arrested, even if it’s for something you did when you were seventeen, we need to know.”
“I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket.”
Carl frowned. “I thought I stressed how important complete honesty was today. Jennifer, men like Phillip Young don’t get their facts wrong,” he said, and Brett considered the consequences of firing the man and walking out.
“Mr. Filmore, I am being honest with you. I have never been arrested.” Jen’s voice contained a hard edge he’d never heard before. She might have been nervous about the meeting, but she wasn’t going to let Carl push her around. “If you give me a chance, I’ll explain what incident the media must be referring to.”
“I apologize. Please proceed.”
The same hard edge remained in Jen’s voice as shared the same story she’d told him.
“Not that it matters, but either Smith’s team twisted the facts or Russo left some out when he shared them,” Carl said once Jen finished.
“I’m surprised he even talked to anyone, or that he even remembers it happening.” Jen said.
He hadn’t thought about how the media got the intel. He hadn’t cared. Jen raised a good point. Few people other than her and Dominic knew about the spray painting incident, so the relative mentioned in the article had to be her biological father.
Carl nodded. “I don’t know why, but he did. I got confirmation before you arrived.”
The why behind Dominic Russo’s actions were irrelevant. “We need a strategy. Thoughts?”
Dad and Carl exchanged a glance. His dad seemed to shake his head at Carl but otherwise kept silent.
“Jennifer, would you mind giving us a few minutes alone?” Carl asked.
“Whatever you have to say, you can do so with Jen here.” Brett didn’t intend to keep secrets from her.
“Whatever you want.” Carl removed his reading glasses and set them down. “You hired me to win. Your best bet for doing so after this is simple.” He pointed to one of the many newspapers stacked on the conference table. “Come out and tell the public you knew nothing about Jennifer’s past. It’s not a lie. When Lily arrives, we can arrange for you to do a press conference. Then find a woman the voters will deem suitable.”
Brett didn’t care if Carl was right or not. “Not an option,” he said.
“It’s your campaign and reputation. How do you want to proceed?” Carl asked.
Jen wished she’d left the room when Carl asked her to. She’d expected him and Brett’s dad to suggest he cut all ties with her. After all, she’d had the same idea. If she thought it might be the best way to save Brett’s campaign, a man like Carl Filmore who ate and slept politics, would too. Still, hearing Carl tell Brett to find someone the voters would deem more suitable stung.
“Perhaps Jen should hold the press conference,” Mr. Sherbrooke suggested. “She can share the same details she gave us with the media, and they can question her about Dominic Russo and the incident in South Carolina.”
Mr. Sherbrooke wanted her to stand in front of reporters and television cameras and make a coherent speech. Her palms were getting sweaty just thinking about doing it.
“In the meantime, we’ll contact the police station in South Carolina and try to find the restaurant owner. Someone down there should be able to corroborate the spray painting incident,” Mr. Sherbrooke said, sharing the rest of his plan. “While it’s not necessary, it won’t hurt either to have someone who can back up Jen’s statement.”
She didn’t love Mr. Sherbrooke’s plan either, but it topped Carl’s.
“Jen’s not the one running for office,” Brett said.
“Brett, you and I know it doesn’t matter,” Mr. Sherbrooke said, before looking toward her. “The decision, of course, is yours.”
Brett turned in his seat. “You don’t have to, Jen.”
“Yes, I do.” He was willing to risk his political future for her. The least she could do was face a group of reporters. “I’ve never done anything like this. I’ll need some help preparing.”
Mr. Sherbrooke’s smile let her know he not only approved of her decision but also appreciated it. “Don’t worry about anything, Jen. We’ll make sure you’re ready.”
***
Standing on her suite’s balcony, Jen watched another group of reporters enter the Sherbrooke Regency Hotel. There had been a steady stream of news teams and reporters for the past hour. She shouldn’t be out there watching because it was only increasing her anxiety level, which was already through the roof. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to stop herself this afternoon. When she wasn’t out here watching people enter the downtown Boston hotel, she was inside, pacing the elegant suite she’d been stuck in since leaving Carl’s office late last night.
Carl, Jonathan Sherbrooke, and Lily, Brett’s press secretary, had all agreed it would be best if she stayed where the media couldn’t easily find her until after the press conference. Since it would take place at the Sherbrooke Regency, Brett decided they’d stay in a suite there at least until after the press conference. If the media did discover where she was, hotel security could keep the reporters away from her. Jen hadn’t argued, not even when Carl suggested she not return home for an appropriate outfit. Instead he’d told her to give Dee her clothing and shoe size. The assistant had arrived at their suite with several outfits, underwear, and matching shoes an hour ago.