Running Mate Page 2

  “Since I could read your apprehension, I thought a sip or two of alcohol might calm your nerves.”

  “Did you also anticipate that I refused on the grounds that champagne makes me burp?” Oh Jesus, did I actually say that out loud?

  Mr. George chuckled. “No, but I know what you mean. It gives me the worst indigestion.”

  I smiled. “Let me guess, you worked in profiling before you switched over to campaign work?”

  “You’re very good, Miss Monroe. I worked thirty years with the FBI. Becoming a campaign manager is part of my retirement.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a very relaxing job to me.”

  “It keeps my mind active, which is what I wanted, and I still get time off between election years.” Mr. George turned in his seat to face me directly. “Enough about me. Tell me, how familiar are you with James Callahan?”

  A smirk crept across my lips. “I could probably recite his stances on foreign and domestic policies in my sleep, not to mention his voting history in the Senate.”

  Mr. George nodded. “I imagined as much. I’m more interested in what you know about him personally.”

  It was an odd inquiry, but while I rarely concerned myself with Senator Callahan’s private life when I was working with volunteers, it didn’t mean I was unprepared. If there was one thing I prided myself on, it was being over-prepared for any given situation. “Before interviewing for the job with the Callahan campaign, I did extensive research on his background.”

  Stroking his chin, Mr. George questioned, “And what did you learn?”

  I furrowed my brows in confusion. “You want me to tell you what I know?”

  “Yes.”

  Okay then, ask and you shall receive. After sucking in a breath, I began reciting what felt like a class report. “James Thornton Callahan III was born in Alexandria, Virginia, in 1943. He attended military prep schools before graduating from West Point and was decorated for his service in Vietnam. After leading two tours as an Army Major, he returned home to work at The Callahan Corporation, the company his self-made grandfather had built from the ground up. His first wife, Celia, died of cancer just two years after they married. Like John F. Kennedy, he was elected to his first term in the senate as a bachelor. A decade after losing Celia, he wed his second wife, Jane Barrett, a distant cousin of the famous Vanderbilt family, and they had three children, James Thornton IV, or Thorn as he is called, Barrett, and Caroline.”

  When I finally paused to take another breath, Mr. George smiled at me. “Very impressive, Miss Monroe.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. George shook his head. “Please don’t call me sir. It’s Bernie.”

  “Okay, Bernie.”

  As the limo came to a stop, I peered out the window to see we had arrived at the ultra-posh Jefferson Hotel. I’d only been once, when I attended a fundraiser reception for Representative Gregson there. The driver opened the door and Bernie and I stepped out. At my continued hobbling, Bernie glanced down at my broken Choo. At his puzzled look, I quickly blurted out, “It happened on the way in this morning. I was trying to fix it when you called for me.”

  “That’s quite all right, Miss Monroe. Once we get to James’s suite, you can leave the shoe with one of his staffers to repair.”

  “Oh, no. That won’t be necessary,” I argued as we stepped into the elevator.

  Bernie smiled at me. “I insist.”

  I decided it was useless to argue anymore. Instead, I said, “Thank you. I appreciate it very much.” My Choo will live to see another day!

  After Bernie used a special key card, the elevator started climbing up to the penthouse. When the doors opened to the white and black marbled floors and sparkling chandeliers, I fought hard to keep my jaw from dropping. I couldn’t imagine what it was like living with this sort of opulence on a daily basis. I mean, it was just a basecamp for the moment, but considering the wealth Senator Callahan came from, I could only imagine what his house looked like. Most likely it was more of a mansion than a house.

  Although most presidential candidates set up their campaign headquarters in their hometown or home state, Senator Callahan had decided on DC for his since his home in Alexandria wasn’t that far from the capital. So far, he’d only been to the headquarters twice, and I’d missed him both times because I was out of the office working events. This was the first time I was meeting him, and I couldn’t help feeling like a nervous wreck.

  Two men who appeared to be in their late twenties were seated in the sitting room to the left of the foyer. They briefly peered up from the laptops they were hunkered over, and with a flick of his hand, Bernie had them both shooting to their feet. “Could one of you gentlemen take Miss Monroe’s shoe to have it repaired?”

  For a moment, it looked like they might break into a shoving match to see who could rush over to us fast enough. The taller of the two—who was also quite a looker—dropped to his knees before me. “Oh my,” I gasped.

  He lifted my foot up and gently took off my broken Choo then gazed up at me through the long strands of his blond hair. “I’ll have it ready ASAP.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan,” Bernie said.

  I smiled down at Jonathan while trying not to imagine tackling him to the floor for a quickie. “Yes, thank you, Jonathan.

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Don’t even go there, Addison. Just because it’s been almost a year since you’ve had sex, that’s no excuse to pervert the simplest of phrases. “Would you like me to have your other cleaned and polished?” Jonathan asked.

  “Oh, um, well…I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

  He nodded before taking my other shoe and leaving me Chooless. After rising to his feet, he headed for the elevator. As I gazed down at my feet, I sighed at how pathetic they looked, and in turn, how pathetic I looked. I was going to meet the potential future leader of the free world barefoot.

  Bernie nodded for me to follow him down the hallway. When we walked into a spacious living room, I almost froze at the sight of Senator Callahan sitting at the twelve-person dining room table in the next room. There were two men sitting on either side of him, and at the sight of me, they all stood up. When Senator Callahan nodded at them, they picked up the files in front of them and headed out of the room.

  I followed Bernie across the living room toward Senator Callahan. A warm, inviting smile lit up his face as he came around the side of the table and he threw out his hand for me to shake. “Miss Monroe, James Callahan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  A nervous titter of a laugh escaped my lips. “No, sir, I’m sure the pleasure is all mine.”

  After pumping my hand several times, Senator Callahan motioned for me to have a seat. Bernie pulled the chair out for me before sitting down next to me and once we were seated, Senator Callahan once again sat at the head of the table. Then he riffled through a few papers in front of him before handing one to me. “Before we proceed with our meeting, I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement.”

  Whoa. This was some pretty serious shit. I mean, I’d barely been here five minutes and they were whipping out an NDA. I guess I should have imagined that any private meeting with the senator would entail as much. As I picked up the embossed Callahan for President pen in front of me, I momentarily wondered what would happen if I refused. After a quick read-through, I realized I wasn’t signing over my firstborn child or anything like that. Once I had scribbled my name on the form, I handed it back to Senator Callahan.

  “Thank you, Miss Monroe.” After he filed the form away, Senator Callahan smiled at me. “Bernie has told me what a fantastic job you’re doing as our volunteer coordinator.”

  My pride surged. “Thank you, sir. It’s truly an honor to hear you say that. I want to do everything I can to ensure you secure the party’s nomination, as well as the presidency.”

  Senator Callahan glanced past me to give Bernie a knowing look. “I’m very glad to hear of your strong commitment to me and my campaign. It’s wh
y I hope you will be willing to accept my proposal.”

  The seriousness of his tone had me squirming in my seat. “And just what is your proposal, sir?”

  “Since the beginning of presidential campaigns, a contender’s family life was very important to voters. A man or woman needed to exude that they could maintain a strong marriage and produce healthy and successful children. The more picture perfect the family, the more likely a prospective voter was to connect with the candidate. This is still the case today.”

  “I would interject to say that you do have a picture-perfect family, sir. I always mention yours and Thorn’s service when setting up VFW and military volunteers. If I were to be so bold, I would add that you’ve also had a scandal-free, happy marriage.”

  “I would say you are correct on all those points.” With a wink, he added, “I hope Mrs. Callahan would also agree on the happy marriage part.”

  I smiled. “I’m sure she would.”

  “While I thank you for your candor, Miss Monroe, I’m more interested in what you know about my son.”

  “Thorn or Barrett?”

  “Barrett.”

  When I glanced at Bernie, he nodded his head. Once again, I prepared to give my best book report. “Barrett graduated top of his class at Yale and now works for The Callahan Corporation. He was unable to follow in your military footsteps like his older brother, Thorn, because he was deemed unfit for service due to a congenital heart defect.”

  “Very nice. I see you presented me with the G-rated version of my son’s life.”

  “He does have a reputation of enjoying partying and playing the field,” I added, although that was putting it politely. Barrett’s handsome face was always splashed across the society section of the Washington Post, and he usually had a different girl with him in every picture—thought they always fit the same mold of being blonde stick figures. Since Barrett lived in New York City, he hadn’t been by campaign headquarters yet. Even if I had been out of the office at an event, I was sure the other office girls would have let me know.

  While both Callahan sons would be considered very good-looking, Barrett seemed to have hit the jackpot when it came to the hotness lottery. Both men had a muscular build, although Barrett was leaner. Thorn was blond and blue-eyed like his mother where Barrett had Senator Callahan’s jet-black hair and greenish-gold eyes. It made for a winning combination. It also didn’t hurt that Barrett oozed sex appeal. From the videos I’d seen of him on TMZ, he had a confident swagger when he walked, along with a megawatt cocky grin. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but he just had that star quality, the it factor.

  “Yes, you are correct about Barrett’s extracurricular activities.” He slid the manila folder in front of him over to me. “Within the contents of that file, you can read about the findings of an image consultant hired by the campaign, or I can briefly sum it up for you.”

  “I’m fine with hearing it in your own words, sir.”

  A pleased expression came over Senator Callahan’s face at my declaration of trust, and I wasn’t bullshitting him. I couldn’t have possibly worked for his campaign if I didn’t believe in his character.

  For a moment, I saw a flash of Barrett in the senator’s more relaxed face. “Basically it boils down to the fact that with his playboy ways, Barrett is a liability to my campaign.”

  I furrowed my brows at him. Talking about Barrett Callahan wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured this meeting going. What could I possibly to do to help Senator Callahan with such a problem?

  Then the reason I’d been brought there finally hit me. “You want me to get Barrett involved with some volunteer opportunities with the campaign to improve his image.”

  A curious smile curved on Senator Callahan’s lips. “Actually, I was thinking of another way you could help my wayward son.”

  “And what’s that?

  “While having Barrett appear at campaign events or even charitable ones would certainly help, it wouldn’t do a lot to change the public perception of him. I’m looking for something a little more drastic.”

  “What exactly are you thinking?”

  Senator Callahan leaned forward in his chair. “What I’m about to ask you is highly unorthodox, and it is something done out of sheer desperation.”

  I gulped. I wasn’t liking the direction the conversation was taking at all. I started wondering what would happen to my job if I suddenly made a break for the elevator. Of course, I’d have to grab the magic key card from Bernie before I bolted. “Okay,” I replied in a half-whisper.

  “I need you to pose as Barrett’s fiancée through the remainder of the campaign.”

  After sitting there in stunned silence for a moment, I busted out laughing. As I replayed Senator Callahan’s words over in my mind, I continued dissolving into hysterics. The idea that I had been brought here to be a potential fake fiancée was absolutely ridiculous. It was the kind of thing you’d expect from the old Ashton Kutcher show Punked.

  But, when Bernie and Senator Callahan remained stone-faced, my laughter ceased like someone had abruptly pulled the plug. “Oh, my God. You weren’t joking.”

  Senator Callahan shook his head. “No. I wasn’t.”

  “You are running for the highest office in the land, and you want me to be your son’s fake fiancée,” I said as I desperately tried to process what was going on.

  “Yes, Miss Monroe.”

  Slowly, I shook my head back and forth. “I liked it better when I thought you were joking.”

  “I’m sure, on the surface, me bringing you here today to ask this of you seems quite preposterous, but please believe me when I say how very serious I am. Presidential candidates need their family’s help on the campaign trail. We cannot be in ten different places at once. Thorn cannot be called home from duty to work on my campaign, and while Caroline wants to help, she’s only twenty years old and in the middle of her sophomore year at Vassar.” Senator Callahan exhaled a long breath. “As you can see, Barrett is our only choice.”

  “Excuse me for being ignorant, but how could something like a fake engagement even be remotely possible?”

  “Everything in Washington is a matter of perception. Our city is a façade built on half-truths. It’s also the very reason Jackie Kennedy worked so hard to perpetuate the myth of Camelot after John Kennedy was assassinated. Part of his mystique came from the ability of those around him to spin the perception that he was a god among men while carefully concealing his many marital indiscretions.”

  “And you plan to spin some sort of modern day fairytale with Barrett and me?”

  “Yes, I am. With the resources I have at my disposal, I’m confident it would be a great success.” At what must’ve been my continued look of skepticism, Senator Callahan asked, “Have you ever seen the movie Wag the Dog?”

  I nodded; we’d watched it in my political media class along with the classics like Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, All the President’s Men, and The Manchurian

  Candidate. “Yes sir, I have.”

  “Then you know if an entire war can be fabricated by the media, it is more than possible to fabricate a relationship.”

  “But that was a movie,” I argued.

  “A movie steeped in truths.” He winked. “And half-truths.”

  I brought my hand up to rub my forehead, which was now aching from all the questions swarming inside it. “There’s one thing I have to ask.” The truth was there were a million things I wanted to ask, but at the moment, this was the most pressing one.

  “Of course.”

  “Out of all the women you surely have at your disposal, how on earth did you come up with me?”

  Senator Callahan smiled. “I think that is a very fair question. Obviously, we knew it couldn’t be anyone of our family’s personal acquaintances. It would be far too easy to poke holes in the fabricated romance and disprove the relationship. We needed someone unknown to those around us.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Upon further
consideration, I realized I needed someone close to the campaign, someone who believed in me as a person and candidate, someone I felt I could trust to protect my political interests. When we began to go through the campaign staff, you immediately jumped out. Not only were you someone who would be physically appealing to Barrett, you had many personal attributes that made you desirable to the campaign.”

  “Such as?” Call me cynical, but I was trying not to laugh at the idea that I would be physically appealing to Barrett.

  An amused look twinkled in Senator Callahan’s eyes. “First and foremost, you’re single.”

  I laughed. “Yes, I can see where that would be important.”

  “You also have never been married, and although we have come a long way in this country, there is still somewhat of a stigma against divorce among some political circles.”

  “You’re telling me that my greatest attribute is the fact that I’m a single woman? Pardon me, Senator Callahan, but that usually isn’t something a girl actually feels proud of.”

  With a chuckle, the senator replied, “No, Miss Monroe, that was just the first thing that caught our eye. It was much more about the fact that you weren’t just a pretty face. You graduated magna cum laude from Duke, and you’re working in a very coveted position in a campaign. Being an intelligent, educated, self-reliant woman will appeal to the women’s sector of the vote.”

  “Yes, I can see where that would be helpful.” Tilting my head, I asked, “What else?”

  A shrewd look entered Senator Callahan’s golden eyes. “As of this morning, you have $66.54 in your checking account. You also owe close to one hundred thousand dollars in student loans. The apartment you rent is in a less than desirable area, and you have all secondhand furniture. Instead of a car, you own a bicycle. Basically, you have no assets of any real value.”

  Scorching embarrassment ricocheted throughout my body at the assessment of my dismal financial situation. I already knew it was bad, but there was something about hearing it from a man I both respected and admired like Senator Callahan that made it even worse. “Okay, so I’m flat broke. What does—” I sucked in a breath while narrowing my eyes at Senator Callahan. “Wait, how do you know how much money I have in my bank account?”