Rook (Political Royalty Book 2) (7 page)

He understood why. He was sleeping with his wife, playing the happily married family man in her face, and there wasn’t a damn thing either of them could do about it. If he’d been in her position, he’d have lost his mind long ago. He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else touching her, but she couldn’t avoid watching him with Sandra. It was a fucked-up situation with no good solutions except the one he wasn’t willing to consider—giving Haven up. He’d find a way to be with her again, even if it tore both of them apart.

“Interesting tie choice,” said Justin, preceding Haven.

He positioned himself between her and Walker, and Shep couldn’t help but wonder if it was deliberate. As if Justin realized what he wanted and took it upon himself to run interference for his boss. He couldn’t blame the other man. Shep knew exactly how dangerous this game was and how badly Haven could get hurt. He could even admire Justin’s efforts. He’d do the same thing in his place, not that Shep had any intention of letting it deter him. He could protect her from everyone but him.

“Lavender,” said Haven and he could hear the smile in her voice without seeing her.

“It’s a step back from his pre-campaign look.”

Estevan had been photographed on more than one occasion wearing a purple crushed velvet suit, like he was Prince or something. A lavender tie paled in comparison. Literally.

“It’s getting harder and harder for working families to make ends meet. Both parents have to work to survive and we’re farming out raising our children to paid workers, many of whom are here illegally, instead of the loving mothers and grandmothers who raised us,” said Estevan, pausing to hit the cameras with a stare that might be meant to look penetrating but ended up reading as slightly nuts. “Our way of life is changing—and not for the better—and our families are fracturing under the stress.”

“Do you think the farming thing is a deliberate dig?” asked Travis, coming to stand on the other side of Shep.

“Without a doubt,” said Haven. “He might be a nut bar, but he hired Pellman to handle his speech writing. It looks like he’s reading off the teleprompter—for the moment at least.”

“Nice,” said Shep, feeling the thinnest thread of apprehension wind through him. “He’s managed to attach a negative connotation to the word farming and pull in illegal immigration at the same time.” Immigration had been a complicated problem for agriculture for years. Americans wanted cheap food, but precious few of them were willing to do the backbreaking work required to get it to their tables. Immigrant labor—not always legal—was the only way some crops got harvested. Maybe the publisher wasn’t as crazy as he appeared. Either that or he’d finally put his money to good use and hired people to help him craft a message and stay on it.

“Meanwhile, a whole generation of welfare females,” Estevan said, managing to make the word sound distasteful, “are popping out baby after baby while they steal the money of hardworking Americans.”

“How much do you want to bet that wasn’t on the teleprompter?” asked Travis as Haven shushed him.

“She gets to stay home, watching cable TV while honest American mothers have to leave their babies to go back to work just to help keep a roof over their family’s heads. When I’m president, that will change.” He paused again, holding his place until everyone hung on his next word. Shep had to admit the guy had a flair for working an audience. “On day one, my very first day in the Oval Office, I plan to put in place legislation that will end the cycle of handouts and put more money back in the pockets of hardworking Americans.” He held his hands up, clearly expecting applause. He must have forgotten he was speaking to the press and not to fans at one of his rallies. He lowered his hands and gripped the podium for a second before turning and walking off camera without taking any questions.

“Well, that was a cluster fuck,” said Justin.

Shep saw Abby wince and felt bad for her. Everything had to be so controlled on the campaign it was hard to tighten up the language behind closed doors. He thought in some ways it was a release valve for all the things they wanted to say but couldn’t in public.

“There were so many things wrong with it; I’m not sure where to start,” said Travis. “He didn’t even take questions, just walked off like he dropped the mic.”

Justin snorted, but Haven turned to face them, her expression serious.

“It won’t matter how much he got wrong if what he said resonates with people. They won’t care that he did it wrong if he’s giving voice to the things they secretly believe but are too nice to say. This one could grow legs.”

“How do we respond?” Shep watched her, waiting for her to look at him. He was the candidate. She couldn’t ignore him when he asked her a direct question. And unlike him, she wouldn’t risk screwing up her job because of the stuff going on between them.

She glanced at him, acknowledging him without letting her gaze meet his before turning her attention to Abby. “Do you think you could get the research guys to dig up some stories on families hurt after the housing crisis who had to turn to welfare or housing assistance to survive? Food stamp numbers would be particularly helpful. I’d like to be able to tie it all back to domestic hunger.” Abby nodded and Haven gave the other woman a genuine smile.

He wanted her to smile at him like that again. He wanted to be able to concentrate on his campaign without spinning everything into how it related to things between him and Haven.

“We don’t run from it. We paint a picture of people hurt by the previous administration’s policies and show how it ties into our core issues.” She squared her shoulders, clearly in command of the room and everyone in it. She was fucking fantastic—power, control with an instinct other campaigns could only wish for. “Justin, call the ad company we worked with in Virginia and get them started on a series of ads targeting the real working poor. Once research finds the people, we can work on filling in the stories. I want everything to point back to domestic security and ending hunger. That’s our angle. We ignore—for now at least—the xenophobia. We can frame a sensible argument for immigration reform and work visas after Estevan’s welfare baby picture has faded.”

Justin nodded and they’d all started to head in separate directions when the news broadcaster cut in, looking positively gleeful. The split-screen image showed a Collins
Voice for America
sign plastered on the front of a podium with a wall of American flags in the background.

“We’re waiting for a response to Mr. Estevan’s recent comments from the Republican front-runner, retired Army General Miranda Collins. We’ll break in as soon as the general takes the stage.” The newscaster went back to dissecting Estevan’s performance and Walker’s team pulled back together.

“We should get out first. She beat us again,” said Travis, sounding more dejected than the situation warranted. Although Shep had to admit he was getting tired of calling second place a win. It was hard running against someone who seemed almost unbeatable.

“I can start putting together a statement for the senator to give so at least we’ll be in the same cycle,” said Justin, looking to Haven for instruction.

“No,” said Haven, shaking her head. “We address, not react. We’ll address both Estevan and Collins’s statements when we’re ready, but I’m not going to let the senator be led around by either of them. Steady, thoughtful, and on our own terms. Understand?”

Shep caught himself as he started to nod. She commanded him as clearly as she did the rest of the room, but it wouldn’t get him closer to what he wanted by letting her know that.

The general took the stage and the talking heads cut away, giving her the whole screen. Instead of the cool leader of troops he’d gotten used to seeing on the trail, the general practically vibrated with anger. Her jaw clenched and nostrils flared, and it looked like she was fighting a battle to keep from screaming at the TV cameras like she would a new cadet not obeying her orders.

“Like the rest of you,” she said, sucking in air and modulating her tone, “I had the unfortunate opportunity to hear Mr. Estevan’s remarks a few moments ago.” She managed to lace
Mister
with enough disdain to make it sound like a bad word. “And I can’t remember when I’ve heard a more ridiculous statement. For days now, Mr. Estevan has been trotting out theory after theory, each more fantastical than the previous, and none of them fit to print anywhere but in his gossip rags.” She gazed out at the room, some of the fury in her expression telegraphing through the TV screen. “But today when he launched his attack against working women, he went too far.”

“Was that what he said?” asked Travis. This time Haven didn’t have to shush him; Justin took care of it for her.

“Women have every right to the same careers that men have. We no longer need to be shackled to the home and stuck in the kitchen, playing supporting roles for the men in our lives. We can be the stars of our own stories.” She spoke with such passion, Shep had a hard time imagining she was reading from anything.

It felt like her remarks were genuine and off the top of her head. They also skirted the edge of political suicide. Most people believed women were equal to men, but most of them, including a fairly significant number of women, didn’t want to be reminded they didn’t
need
men. And they sure as hell didn’t want someone they didn’t know trashing moms, regardless of their particular situation.

“I worked from the time my children were a few weeks old, proudly wearing the uniform of my country. My children have not suffered as a result of being raised by paid caregivers, and I’ve had a long and fulfilling career, using my God-given talents to better serve my countrymen and women.” Shep kept his gaze fixed on the screen. Around him, he could almost feel the rest of his team holding their collective breath. “We are not going to let small-minded men like Mr. Estevan drag us back into the kitchen and nurseries and away from the careers we’ve built for ourselves. We will not go back.”

“It’s a hashtag,” said Justin, glancing down at his phone. “Someone just posted it on her Twitter feed. #wewillnotgoback.”

“How will it play?” asked Abby, with uncharacteristic forcefulness.

“It’s too soon to tell. Equal rights is one thing. Abandoning your children for your career and rampant feminism is another.”

“Come on,” said Travis. “You can’t believe that.”

“I’m not saying I agree with it. Hell, I don’t want kids at all, let alone a man to try to tell me what to do,” said Haven, holding a hand up in front of her.

He shouldn’t hear her words as a challenge. Nothing good could come of it, but that didn’t mean he could stop.

“All I’m saying is that I think it could go either way with voters. We’re not as evolved as we like to think we are and issues of family cut deep. It will read that way for some people, and we can use it.”

“More dads are becoming primary caregivers,” said Justin.

“True, and maybe that’s one of the angles we push.” Haven turned to face Abby. “Dig up some statistics on stay-at-home dads and those employed part-time, too, please. Ride research until they get you what you need.”

“It’s trending,” said Travis. “Twitter’s exploding, but it’s not just the
we will not go back
hashtag. There’s another one. #whatworksforourfamily. It’s a long one, but it’s getting almost as much traffic.

“This changes things, doesn’t it?” asked Justin.

Haven nodded and then turned to face Shep, meeting his gaze for the first time since they’d started talking. He saw a flash of something in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced with an icy calm.

“Call Mrs. Walker. We’re going to need her and the girls on the trail for the next couple of days.”

She turned and walked away without waiting to see if he’d protest.

––––––––

M
ATT TURNED HIS back on the stage set up in the middle of the college gymnasium and dialed the number for his sister for the fourth time that week. It rang through to her voicemail, the way it had every time before, but this time he had a hard time ignoring the worry creeping in. He expected her to be busy either with partying or studying—although with Becca, studying was more likely—but she always called him back eventually.

Not that he called all that often. Talking to Walker a couple of weeks ago made him miss her. Since the bus would be swinging past Tucson, stumping for the Arizona primary, he thought he’d take a chance and see if she could meet him for dinner one night. None of that would work if he couldn’t get her on the damn phone.

“This is it,” he said under his breath. “Last time I’m calling. Either call me back or I’m going to have to drive up there to find you and that’s gonna just piss both of us off. Come on, Becs, call me back so I can stop feeling like a worried parent.” Since his parents’ divorce and his dad’s downhill slide, his sister felt like his only family. At least the only one that extended beyond just obligation.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and forced his attention back to the stage. Matt had heard the senator give his spiel so many times he could practically recite it in his sleep. Food security, domestic security, infrastructure, moving America forward. Yadda yadda yadda. It played on a loop in his head. The only new bit was the piece about families.

Walker added it after Collins and Estevan lost their collective shit on TV and started a Twitter war that showed amazing staying power despite the season finale of the
X Files
and
Orange is the New Black
. #wewillnotgoback and #whatworksforourfamily still eclipsed the latest Kardashian drama. Walker didn’t have his own hashtag, but he did seem to have a message that resonated with voters.

He talked about the importance of families and the need for parents to be able to stay home with their children if they wanted to. He made a special point of citing stellar statistics about stay-at-home dads and used examples of all different kinds of families—some so progressive it was a wonder they hadn’t taken his Republican card back. Then he trotted out his gorgeous wife and adorable little girls and smiled and waved like a poster for the Aryan nuclear family.