I hit send.
–Matt: Lose? I find that hard to believe. He’s the best thing since sliced bread for his party.
I make a face.
–Me: Why? He’s a dick!
–Matt: Maybe, but still a popular guy. He has a great social media presence and image. Study him; you’ll be impressed. At least with his team. They’re excellent. They even turned his father’s scandal around to win him points.
I heard about the whole disgusting affair, but I don’t know too much about the rest because I wasn’t paying attention. Politics isn’t my jam, especially when I’m busy working and playing hard.
–Me: How?
–Matt: Warren IV was the one who took care of his mom the entire time. And h
is team made sure everyone heard about it, which is why he got so much support and love from the voters. There’s something sympathetic and likable about a guy who takes care of his mom so sweetly. And he’s smart enough to make Twitter and Facebook posts that get shared a lot. Media mentions, everything. Some are saying he’s going to be president when he’s old enough.
The fact that this is coming from Matt isn’t making me feel better. He’s not easily impressed. But I tell myself that a man as phony and manipulative as Fordham is bound to trip up. It’s no coincidence that he sat back and watched his father’s career crash and burn for his own political advancement.
I toss the phone on the bed and lie back, sighing. Forget Fordham. What I really want is another chance at last night. Not the whole thing, just the kissing part. I’d do it more smoothly, for one. Maybe put out feelers to see if she was receptive before barging in.
Or just not kiss her at all. She’s an employee. I’ve never allowed myself to get attracted to anybody who’s working for me before. It’s better and cleaner that way.
I look at my phone then start typing up a text for Erin. I just want to get in touch with her. Just to make sure she’s okay and isn’t freaking out over the picture, if she’s seen it—although I’m sure she hasn’t, because she would’ve called or texted. Even though I told her to ignore my texts, maybe she’ll see them and feel better.
–Me: Erin, I just thought I should check and see how you’re doing.
I stare at it without hitting send. It’s sort of blah. Anemic. I can do better.
I hit delete until the screen’s blank again. Then…
–Me: Hey, Erin, I hope you’re doing well this morning.
Ugh. No. That’s even worse.
I glare at the shiny screen, but I can’t think of anything clever to say. I want to know if she’s okay and everything’s okay between us. But she’s probably going to consider quitting if I ask so clumsily.
It’s unexpectedly frustrating to be floundering like this. I always know what to say. Maybe I’m the only one who felt the spark between us, which is what’s putting me at a disadvantage. Regardless, I’m supposed to be the marketing genius here. I’m slicker than this.
I’m still thinking when Mom calls. My gut clenches. Shit. I tell myself I’m still asleep—in spirit, anyway—so I can’t answer her.
The ringer finally dies. A text pops up on the screen.
–Mom: David Francis Darling, I know you’re awake. Jan told me.
Damn it. Jan and her big mouth—or more like, busy fingers!
I call Mom. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom.”
“Is that what smooth-talking marketing executives say to their mothers when they’re caught trying to evade them?”
“It’s the truth! I don’t mind texting Jan from the toilet, but I would never do that to my mother.” I slurp water from my nightstand, making sure she can hear it. “See? I’m having coffee now.”
“Fine. I’ll forgive you if you tell me about this woman. Who is she? How come you never mentioned her to me?”
So Mom didn’t recognize Erin. Good. “Just a date to a charity auction. Don’t get too excited. You know how those paparazzi can be.”
“Yeah, but it’s you and a woman! It’s been so long since you were serious about anyone. Ever since you broke with up Shelly—”