Dissident (The Bellator Saga Book 1) Read online

  They sat on the couch idly drinking their wine until Jack spoke again.

  “Did you really tell Speaker Allen to endorse me?”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Yes. I chickened out about calling you but I felt so rotten the next day that I called Bob and demanded that he try to undo the damage I’d caused. So, he did.”

  “Just out of the goodness of his heart?”

  Caroline shifted on the couch. “Not exactly.”

  “What did you have to do?”

  “I promised him a lap dance.”

  He stared at her, dumbfounded. “Really?”

  “It’s how I worked my way through law school. It’s also one of the best ways to endear yourself to the mostly male leadership if you’re a chick.”

  Jack cocked his head at her and Caroline took another sip of wine. “You don’t pick up on subtle humor, do you?” she asked.

  “Apparently not. Maybe I’ve read too many articles about various scandals on Capitol Hill.”

  “It’s not that bad. People cheat on their spouses all the time. Congress is no exception. There is a certain hookup culture among the interns, which I find to be highly hypocritical, particularly as it pertains to those who claim to be socially conservative. But most elected officials and staffers try to behave like mature adults.” She chugged the rest of her drink theatrically, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then set her cup down hard on the coffee table and winked at him. “Most of the time.”

  Jack refilled her cup. “So, what did you have to do?”

  Her tone grew more serious, but not by much. “Well – here’s where I pause for dramatic effect – I promised him I’d vote for him as Speaker if he endorsed you.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Does the Democratic Party know about this?”

  Caroline chuckled gleefully. “Nope.”

  Jack gave her a mock frown. “Is that keeping with your duties as the keynote speaker?”

  “Probably not. But I like to push the envelope. I’ve never been a big fan of blind allegiance. And Bob is a good man.” She laughed again. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “Are you really going to do it?”

  “Absolutely. I meant what I said. I gave him my word and I won’t go back on it. His friendship means too much to me.”

  “That might get some pundits talking. Crossover votes don’t happen very often, do they?”

  They didn’t, certainly not among party loyalists. Caroline was still plotting how she was going to explain that decision to Douglas Langlade, the Minority Leader. He was obviously expecting her to vote for him. She wasn’t planning on talking to him until after she’d already done it. It was always much easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.

  “No,” she acknowledged.

  “I see.”

  “Bob knew I wasn’t kidding. To be frank, he might have endorsed you anyway if I’d bugged him long enough but after I told him I’d vote for him he was much more inclined to do it.”

  “He made it sound as if he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near my campaign if it hadn’t been for you.”

  Which was pretty much what Bob had said to her on the phone, with a few more expletives for embellishment. He’d been a fixture in the Illinois GOP for many years but was well versed in the rhetorical flourish of the Chicago Machine. But Caroline wasn’t about to confirm that.

  “He promised me he wouldn’t tell you that I was the reason he endorsed you,” she said. “I have to say I’m a little upset with him about that.”

  “You don’t think his intentions were pure?”

  “I’m sure they were a hundred percent altruistic. I merely would have preferred that he keep that little nugget of information to himself.”

  “Even after the way I treated you earlier?”

  “You could have said much worse to me than you did. In fact, you exercised considerable self-discipline. It makes me feel a little awkward, that’s all.”

  “You would rather I never know the truth?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m something I’m not.”

  “How many politicians would have made a call to the leader of the opposing party after badmouthing another candidate? Not many. Maybe none. You should give yourself more credit for doing what you thought was the right thing.”

  “Doesn’t mean I want to advertise it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just don’t. I have a reputation for being nice that isn’t entirely deserved.”

  “I checked. You were voted nicest member of Congress in Washingtonian the last couple of years. You received many bipartisan votes, although that slipped a little this year. They think you’re rather entertaining, too.”

  “You researched me before coming to this party?”

  Jack shrugged. Caroline had already come to the conclusion that he did that when he was uncomfortable. It amused her that she might be throwing him off his game.

  “I was trying to find an excuse to treat you badly the first time I ran into you,” he said. “My investigation didn’t exactly help me.”

  “I think what I said about you during the campaign was excuse enough.”

  “We’ve already moved past that, remember?”

  “I forgot,” Caroline said. “I’ve had a few.”

  “I noticed.” Jack topped off her drink. “It enhances your personality.”

  She was pretty sure that was another compliment but was too tipsy to acknowledge it. “I was afraid that if I didn’t loosen myself up a little I wouldn’t have the guts to talk to you if you showed up.”

  “I’m glad you did. I probably would have avoided you like the plague once I was sworn in. This isn’t fair to you, but I’ve been operating under the assumption that you have everyone snowed. Finding out how nice you actually are didn’t help my preconceptions. I didn’t expect to see you here. I was unaware of your relationship with Representative Sullivan.”

  “We keep it on the down low. It’s sort of an Odd Couple thing. I latched onto her as soon as I met her because every beautiful woman needs a funny sidekick.”

  “Are you the funny one or the beautiful one?”

  Christine was regarded as somewhat standoffish but she was sophisticated, blond, and very chic, and looked much younger than she was. She was unquestionably one of the most attractive female members of Congress. She tended to ignore the attention she received for her looks, or was mostly oblivious to it. Caroline always wondered what it was like for Chrissy to go through life with men constantly fawning all over her but she never really asked her about it.

  “I’m the funny one.” She gave him her most charming smile. “Can’t you tell?”

  “I just thought I would ask.”

  “When I first met Christine I thought she was wound up a little tight,” Caroline said. “She still is, but she’s gotten better. Our relationship is actually pretty shallow. It’s largely based on our mutual addiction to expensive shoes. And we’re both good Catholic girls born and raised in the Midwest. And I’m secretly in love with her husband. But don’t tell her. She’ll kill me if she ever finds out.”

  Jack smiled. “I’ve only spoken with her twice but I have no reason to doubt your assessment of her response. And I doubt very much that your friendship with her is as vapid as you make it sound.”

  “For the most part, I’m kidding. The Sullivans are wonderful people with big hearts. I wouldn’t have made it through the last year without them, especially Chrissy. Tom is much more demonstrative than she is. Hardly anyone knows what she’s really like.”

  “Without revealing too much of what she said to me downstairs, she cares a lot about you. But I still wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. She looked like she was ready to claw my eyes out.”

  Caroline was familiar with that look but had fortunately only been on the receiving end of it once or twice. “Then definitely don’t get on her bad side. If you know what’s good for you.”

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p; Jack smiled at her again. “I’m very glad I came tonight. I’m sorry I treated you so poorly before. I’m quite skilled at behaving like an ass.”

  “Didn’t you say we were starting fresh?”

  “I guess we are.”

  “Then don’t worry about how you acted earlier. And I won’t either. But as to your original point, I don’t put much stock in those Capitol Hill polls.”

  “Ah, yes. I forgot. You don’t like compliments.”

  “It’s not that. When people think you’re nice and funny and trusting, they’re more likely to take advantage of you. I don’t like when that happens.”

  “You think people exploit you for being a decent person?”

  “Wait until you get to Washington.”

  “That’s quite cynical coming from an idealistic liberal. And I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m an asshole. No one will even try to exploit me.”

  Caroline laughed. “We all have our dark sides. Anyway, we may as well get back to your original point about the Speaker. Sorry, I tend to go on tangents.”

  “It’s okay. Talking to you is like reading a Faulkner novel. If Faulkner didn’t suck.”

  “Someone must have hated high school English class.”

  Jack chuckled, filling her wine cup again. “You’re quite amusing. Good to know that poll was accurate.”

  Her charming smile was getting a lot of use during their conversation. “I know.”

  “And so humble too,” Jack said.

  She laughed again. “I try.”

  The conversation was far too focused on her, and she knew she had to change direction. Get them back to safe, non-intrusive topics.

  “Bob is a decent human being and an effective leader,” she said. “I’m not a Republican but your party could do a whole hell of a lot worse. What’s the point of voting for a Democratic candidate who can’t win the post? It’s all gamesmanship and unnecessarily partisan bullshit. A symbolic gesture, pure political theater. I’ve never liked it.” Caroline hesitated and thought of the Minority Leader again. He was not an amicable man. “And I don’t exactly care for our leadership all that much.”

  “What if you were the leadership?”

  “Don’t be silly. I want no part of that. That stupid rah-rah speech I made at the convention was enough.”

  “I watched it. It was a splendid speech.” Jack sounded impressed. “I even agreed with some of it.”

  “I don’t even remember what I said. I’ve been told it was good.”

  “So you don’t harbor any secret ambitions of rising to power?”

  Caroline laughed saucily, and the buzz from the wine helped her inner Teamster come out. “Hell no. I’d rather keep my head down, do my damn job, and occasionally say something funny on Twitter.”

  “Well, your approach seems to be working so far.”

  They continued to chat about their careers and families, their hobbies and quirks. Caroline did her best to answer Jack’s questions about Capitol Hill, and he returned the favor by telling her about his years playing college and European pro basketball, a topic she found fascinating. She even managed to talk about Nicky without crying, because Jack seemed honestly concerned for her loss. Soon the bottle of Moscato was long gone. Caroline yawned and glanced at her watch. It was almost five in the morning.

  “My God,” she said. “We’ve been talking forever. You’re probably the last one here aside from me. I’m surprised no one sent a search party to find you.”

  Jack followed with a yawn of his own. “It’s way past my bedtime. I normally only stay up until four.”

  “You’d better go, then. Are you okay to drive?”

  Jack stood up and stretched, pulling his suit jacket back on. “I’m fine. It’s not that far and you drank almost the entire bottle yourself.”

  She hadn’t realized that. Kitty Dukakis had morphed into Betty Ford. Caroline silently vowed to give up drinking in the foreseeable future.

  She rose to her feet, suddenly feeling awkward. “Well. Drive safe. I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days?”

  “Sure.” Jack stared at the ashes in the fireplace and Caroline got the feeling he was holding something back.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Would it be too forward of me to ask if I could see you again once we get to Washington? As friends,” he added hastily.

  Caroline knew that he wouldn’t want her to take his caveat as an insult, which was fine with her. She had no interest in getting involved with anyone anytime soon. But she’d had a good time with him, so what was the harm?

  She smiled at him. “Why not?”

  Chapter Three

  Dr. Savage crossed and uncrossed her legs. She was sitting in one of the more uncomfortable chairs in Dr. Livingston’s office. It had to be at least twenty years old. Government work wasn’t supposed to be glamorous and the VA had always gotten the shaft when budgets were drawn but she sure as hell didn’t have to be happy about it.

  She’d been waiting for Bill for the past fifteen minutes. He was uncharacteristically late. She was never one to give in to paranoia but she’d been wondering lately if it was time for her to talk to someone. About her job. About her family.

  About everything.

  Maureen’s daughter Aimee was in her second semester at the University of Texas and she missed her terribly. After everything that had been happening recently, Maureen was starting to regret not encouraging her to attend a private college a little closer to home.

  The Savage family spent generations in Texas before Maureen’s husband dared to venture toward the nation’s capital after receiving his honorable discharge from the Army. Maureen still thought his parents resented her for that cross-country relocation, since he only stuck around after he decided to marry her. She was a San Antonio native herself but fell in love with the Northeast when she was an undergrad at Boston College.

  Her husband had passed away almost ten years ago, but Maureen smiled as she thought of him, secure in the knowledge that she’d done him right: his little girl had grown up to be a Longhorn. She crossed and uncrossed her legs again and bemoaned the fact that her cell phone was tucked away in the desk in her own office. She really wanted to hear Aimee’s voice. It might have made her feel better.

  Bill burst into his office in a huff. “CNN,” he gasped.

  “What?”

  “Turn on CNN.”

  Maureen looked at the TV in the corner, realizing that she could have been killing time by watching daytime television or ESPN News instead of waxing poetic about her only child. “Okay.”

  The channel was playing a commercial.

  “Shit.” Bill started pacing in front of the TV.

  “What is going on?” Maureen asked. “And where have you been?”

  “Texas seceded. Earlier this morning.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Haven’t you been paying attention lately?”

  “Bill, I grew up in Texas, remember? All sorts of crazy people talk about secession down there. It happens every couple of years, depending on who’s in the Governor’s Mansion and who’s trying to be the most conservative Republican primary candidate. Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret something?”

  “I didn’t misinterpret anything. The legislature voted. The Governor concurs. There’s going to be a popular referendum in two weeks, but the polls indicate that Texans are willing to cut ties with the United States in overwhelming numbers. Regardless of political affiliation.”

  “Just like California,” Maureen murmured.

  “I know,” Ted said grimly. “I’ve heard rumors that President Santos is going to let them leave on the condition that they allow all American troops and government employees to leave peacefully.”

  Maureen wasn’t totally in tune with her roots, but her memory was long. The Texas Legislature only met every two years. “The Lege did this? They’re not even in session right now.”

  “Looks like t
hey decided to make a special trip to Austin.”

  She froze as the pieces came together in her head, and sprang out of her chair. “I have to call Aimee.”

  Bill grabbed her arm. “Have you checked on Ms. Gerard today?”

  “Not yet.” She hesitated. “Is there any cause for concern?”

  “I don’t think so. Make sure she’s comfortable. How often are the nurses popping into her room?”

  “Once every couple of hours, I guess.”

  “Make it every hour. And you do the same, if you have the time.”

  Maureen frowned. That request was overly cautious, even for him. “What’s going on, Bill? She’s only been here a few days.”

  Bill lowered his voice. “They’re breathing down my neck. That’s why I was late. I gave them some bullshit about needing to keep her here another week or so. But they’re going to get restless the longer this goes on.”

  He glanced back at the TV screen, where two pundits were quarreling loudly about whether or not Texas leaving the United States would cause any real damage, economic or otherwise. They were both making the same tired, predictable partisan arguments, except there was a palpable cautiousness in their tone. And a noticeable lack of criticism of the Santos Administration.

  Maureen rubbed her eyes. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

  “Can’t see how it could get much worse.” Bill kept his voice low. “There have been rumblings about insurrection out in California. Who knows if there’s anything to it. I’d be shocked if Santos let them go just to have them rise up, though.”

  “Shit. I really need to call Aimee.”

  Bill cleared his throat. “Be careful what you say.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He dropped his voice even further. “Don’t get too personal.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Bill leaned in closer toward Maureen. “I got the distinct impression after speaking with our nice friends over at INSCOM that our conversations may not be private.”