Decision made, Jason stood and looked Callahan square in the eye. He held out his hand. “We have a deal. But I have a suggestion for my babysitter.”
Callahan stood up also and shook his hand in a firm grip, continuing the shake for a few seconds longer than necessary. “Glad to hear it. Don’t blow it.”
*
Stacia opened thedoor to her condominium and stale warm air slapped her. Damn it. Had she forgotten to leave the air conditioner on again? She tossed her purse and briefcase on the table and closed the door, then leaned against it and sighed heavily. Home sweet home. To her, it was no different from so many hotel rooms. A place to lay her head between jobs. Now that she was essentially unemployed, what would she do?
The first thing was to crank up the air conditioning and cool it down. Summer in Savannah was not a time to be without AC. A low rumble in her stomach dictated her second priority—food. She strode down the hall, pausing to adjust the temperature control and then into the kitchen. The blinking red light on her answering machine shone through the fine layer of dust coating the phone, the small desk, television and probably everything else in her small one-bedroom condo. Had it really been that long since she’d been home for any length of time besides to sleep?
She turned to the landscapes calendar on the fridge and noticed it was still on June and but it was August. That did not bode well for breakfast, at least not at home. She opened the fridge, hoping something edible remained. She ignored the voicemail notification from her cell phone, even though every cell in her body screamed for her to answer it. Maybe Glazier had reconsidered firing her. Maybe her boss had another job for her. Maybe her father had apologized.
She snorted. Yeah, this was her new reality—fantasies.
Although last night’s fantasy was just what she had needed. A hot steamy night of sex and no worry to her job, future, ruined life. At the thought of Jason, her stomach fluttered and she shuddered. Lord, that man was the balm to her bruised ego, along with her long-neglected lady parts.
Back to reality. She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottled water to quench her sudden thirst. A quick glance confirmed her fears. Not a damn thing to eat except a few takeout containers which looked like a science experiment and some milk that smelled suspiciously spoiled. She slammed the door and strode to the small desk in the kitchen. May as well check in before heading to the store.
“Stacia, it’s me. Sophie. What happened last night? Are you okay? Are you dead by the side of the road? Or are you weak from pleasure? Call me. Must. Have. Details.”
She grinned. Oh yeah, Sophie would want details. She’d have to wait. Stacia wanted to keep the glow to herself for a little while, at least through breakfast.
“Stacia, it’s Mike. What the hell happened with Glazier? Senator Kendall called last night, said you had been replaced. By Donna, an intern, of all people. Call me. Immediately.”
The fantasy bubble popped, all thought of Jason, sex, and fun evaporated leaving a familiar gnawing ache in her belly that had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with why she had to buy stock in antacids.
She shrugged out of her business jacket and tossed it over the chair. She sat and wiped the dust off the phone, fixed the sparse items on the top of the desk, and fiddled with a pencil and paper. Finally, she dialed her boss before she lost her nerve.
“Stacia. About time. I expected a call from you last night, not your father, not Glazier, and certainly not Donna. What the hell happened?”
She succinctly recited the events of the past week or so, when everything went to hell, and then paused. The silence at the other end of the phone dragged on, a low buzzing of background noise and heavy breathing the only indication Mike was still there. Her stomach twisting further, she crossed the small kitchen, opened the antacids and tossed a couple into her mouth, drowning them with the water.
“Your father wants you replaced on the campaign.”
“I thought that had already been decided.”
“I’myour boss, not Senator Kendall or Glazier. You work for me, as does Donna. I thought you and Glazier were an item. Is it true—she slept with him?” His words were clipped and short, revealing the pressure he was under.
Stacia paused. Mike was fanatical about ethics with his consultants. They fixed images, not destroyed them. She could tell Mike the truth, but would it really matter? It wouldn’t get her job back; that much had been made clear by both her father and Glazier. Or she could move past it. “There was no relationship between the representative and myself beyond business. What he does on his own time is his business.”
“Bullshit.” His words shot through the phone like a speeding bullet. “He’s a politician and knows better than to be caught. Donna is finished with me. If he wants her, he can have her.”
“That’s fine, Mike. What about me? I can’t return to the campaign, even if he continues with an independent bid.”
“He’s declared an independent bid, assured that he could overcome this. But no, you aren’t requested back. Apparently, they don’t believe you can handle the finesse required to whitewash this campaign.” Mike paused, letting his words sink in. “I don’t believe you screwed up. We can only work with what the candidate gives us.”
There was something off in his tone. While he sounded like he supported her one hundred percent, he was dancing around something else.
“But?”
He sighed. “But. Your father is very powerful. He’s decided that he doesn’t want you near this or any campaign. I have to listen. He’s thrown me a lot of work in the past few years. I can’t afford to alienate him.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears and she slumped in the chair. Her own father was throwing her under the bus. She should have expected it. Family and blood meant nothing when it came to politics but the reality was like a knife to her gut.
“It’s fine. Maybe it’s time for a change.” She took a deep breath to quell the panic deep inside, impressed that her tone was even. “Do you have anything else?”
He paused again, much longer this time. When he finally spoke, his words were tentative. “I have one situation that just crossed my desk. I was about to tell them no, but…”
“Mike, what is it? I need a job!” She clutched the phone as if it were a lifeline and gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to scream.