Conservative Affairs Part 12

"I don't know, and I probably won't get to know. Let's drop it, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jo blew me off this morning, like she's been doing to everyone else. I don't have any answers because now I've p.i.s.sed her off too." Gabe looked defeated. "I think we need to back off for a while."

"You can back off if you want to, Gabe, but I can't. If we don't get it together around here, we are all on a sinking s.h.i.+p. Do you really want to go through job interviews again and the starting-over process? Are you prepared for that? Because, I'm not. In the event Madeline ends up doing some kind of public face plant, I don't want the stain of it on my resume. Even if we don't have to worry about Jo messing things up, we can't sit around and pretend everything is just peachy."

"I want to be informed and kept up to date as much as you do, but we're not going to get anywhere by hammering either of them with questions. Trust me, I tried."

"Did you? How hard did you try? You're so afraid of p.i.s.sing Jo off that you walk on eggsh.e.l.ls around her. She's single-handedly hijacking this operation. You get that, don't you? She's been the one calling the shots, saying where Madeline goes, what she does-and what she doesn't do. Suddenly she outranks me, you and Ian. How do you feel about that?"

"I think you're overreacting. In any case, I'm pretty sure she's relinquished that responsibility," Gabe replied, his voice shaking from frustration.

"What do you mean?" Jacquelyn's curiosity was piqued. "Did something happen between them? Are they fighting?"

"I don't know, Jacquelyn. Drop it."

"What exactly did she say? Is she going to lose her job?" Jacquelyn tried to breathe through her rapid-fire questions, but this was too good.

Gabe sighed. "I don't have details. If you want to know so bad, you ask one of them."

They stood in silence for a few moments. Jacquelyn was determined to get to the bottom of this. Jo Carson had done things she considered unforgiveable, not only practically destroying the relations.h.i.+p between Madeline and Jacquelyn that Jacquelyn had worked so hard to develop but also standing in the way of keeping Madeline in the spotlight, something that was essential leading up to an election. Ian eventually would serve as volunteer campaign manager with a separate campaign staff-and she wouldn't be in the mix of campaign messaging-but she needed to make sure that Madeline didn't mess up. If she was not reelected, they would all be out of jobs. She needed to know what Jo's agenda was and exactly what had caused her fall from grace.

Good, bad or ugly, they needed to get Madeline's face back in the news, needed her to start doing on-camera interviews and answering the questions that people had been asking. Questions that Jacquelyn could not address, because Madeline hadn't told her anything. Questions that she was sure Jo knew the answers to but wasn't sharing with anyone.

She had received about twenty press questions a day since the news of John's affair broke-to all of which she had simply said, "No comment." She needed time with Madeline. She needed to know: Did Madeline know John was cheating? Had she suspected? Was she planning to file for divorce? What would happen to their property?

"I want answers, and I want Madeline back," Jacquelyn said, leveling her gaze at Gabe.

"That's what I want too," Gabe finally admitted.

When had life come to this? Looking at the crumpled m.u.f.fin wrappers and empty Red Bull cans scattered around the van, Isaac Williams had to ask. When the need to pay child support got critical, he supposed. He put his head in his hands, wis.h.i.+ng desperately that he could take a nap. To say he was a man down on his luck would have been putting it mildly.

The pamphlet he had been handed during college about the exciting life of a cameraman for a news station had lied. There was no glamour or excitement. There was just a van that he felt like he had been pretty much living in for days.

Something had to give soon. It had to, he thought, recalling his last conversation with his boss.

"They're not commenting," Isaac had told him after several unsuccessful attempts to get a statement out of Mayor Stratton's staff.

"That's just great, Isaac. Our compet.i.tion stormed her house and got live coverage, and you can't even get a d.a.m.n written statement."

"I've been by her house. She's not staying there, apparently," Isaac had argued.

"I'm not paying you to tell me where she is or isn't staying. If you want to keep this job, get me something new. Get me something that other stations haven't run. h.e.l.l, do some more digging on the husband. Get the other woman to talk. I don't care, but produce something-and fast. News doesn't sleep, and neither should you until you have something for me."

"Yes, sir," Isaac had said softly before heading out again. What he had really wanted to tell his boss was that he could shove the news up his a.s.s. The truth was, as much as he loathed his job, he was going to do whatever it took to be able to spend one weekend a month with his son-even stalk the mayor.

He was staked outside of her house for the second day in a row, waiting, watching. There had to be activity around the place at some point. He had tried all of his phone options, but everything had come up flat.

Badly in need of a nap, he called the mayor's office again. After three rings, someone answered-an intern, he guessed.

"Mayor Stratton's office, this is Chris. May I help you?"

"Hi, Chris. It's Isaac from Channel 4 News. Can I talk to Jacquelyn?"

He knew the drill. The intern would check and see if she was available while he sat and listened to on-hold music that made him want to slit his wrists.

"This is Jacquelyn." Stress and frustration filled her voice.

Good, he thought, maybe he'd actually get her to break this time.

"Jacquelyn, it's Isaac with Channel 4. How are you today?" He tried his best to sound cheerful.

"Good." Judging from the tone of her voice, she was probably forcing a smile. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I was just checking to see if you all had issued a statement or were planning to at some point in the near future?"

"Not at this point, but I have your contact information and will send you anything in the event that we issue a statement."

He wanted to scream. This meant he would be getting the statement at the same time as everyone else. There would be no breaking news, and Channel 4 would not come out on top.

"Thanks, Jacquelyn. If you have anything else you would like us to run, be sure and let me know that too."

"I will, for sure," she replied.

"When will the mayor be back at the office?" He tried another approach, getting a tired sigh from the other end of the phone in response.

"The public wants to know," he urged. "Remember-these are the people who put her in office. They deserve to know what she's doing."

"At this point, I am unable to comment on the mayor's schedule," she said curtly.

"That'll be all then, but do consider issuing something soon. Thank you."

As he hung up, he decided this wasn't going to cut it much longer. Obviously, the mayor wasn't coming home anytime soon, and the husband was obviously laying low. He wasn't staying with the little blond he had been caught with, though. Isaac had checked that out.

He needed someone at that office to talk. He would find them, find out what he needed to knew. But first he was going to get some sleep.

Chapter Sixteen.

Chicken simmered in vodka sauce, and Tracy Chapman played softly on the stereo.

Jo stirred the chicken, attempting to get her mind off the situation at hand. Alcohol had not been the answer. She knew that much. It had only made her head swim with more questions and thoughts of Madeline.

Every time she successfully diverted her attention from her-even if for a few seconds-something pulled her back instantly. It didn't matter if it was as simple as a song, or as complex and stressful as the conversation she had with her mother this afternoon, peppered with questions about whether Jo's job was in jeopardy.

She pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the meal in front of her. Cooking in an empty kitchen-another meal alone-had not made anything better. "Looks like it's back to eating alone, buddy," she said, reaching down to pat Jaws on the head. "I guess it's not going to get much better than this."

The doorbell rang, both startling her and filling her with hope. Maybe Madeline had decided to come back and talk things over.

She made her way to the door and glanced through the peephole. In an instant, hope turned to dread.

"Jacquelyn, hi," Jo said, opening the door.

How the h.e.l.l do all these people know where I live? she wanted to scream. Never before had she had to worry about someone from work popping in randomly.

Jacquelyn walked in, without having been invited. Rude, but expected, Jo thought.

Jo glanced into the kitchen, then hurried to turn off the stove. "I'm making dinner. Do you want to join me?" she asked, hoping Jacquelyn would have the good sense to politely decline.

"That would be lovely. There's just a couple of things I would like to discuss with you, so I thought I would drop by tonight. We can work through them and then I'll be out of your hair tomorrow."

The smile on Jacquelyn's face was forced, but Jo knew hers was as well.

"Sounds good. Let me finish up really quickly," she replied.

As she set the food on the table, Jo glanced around the kitchen. Thankfully, there was nothing out of the ordinary, except for a few everyday items that Madeline had left behind in her abrupt exit.

To her credit, if Jacquelyn noticed anything out of the ordinary, she covered it well. They settled into a somewhat normal pattern, as they ate.

Jacquelyn swallowed. "This is wonderful."

Jo offered her a smile. "So what did you want to talk about tonight?"

She did not want Jacquelyn in her apartment any longer than necessary, so she figured she might as well get the ball rolling.

"We need to formulate a plan of response," Jacquelyn said, taking a sip of wine. "Basically, the press won't wait forever. They've been calling nonstop, and given the election next year, we can't just disappear."

Jo agreed, but she did not want to push Madeline too far, too fast. Besides, at this point, she didn't even know where Madeline was.

"Why are you asking me?" Jo asked.

"Because you're the one she let in, I suppose. You seem to know what is going on with her, where she is and maybe what she wants me to tell everyone."

Jo resisted the urge to scream and hoped that her face was masked. "Sorry. I don't know. As you can see, she's not here anymore," Jo said, gesturing around the small apartment.

Jacquelyn's brow furrowed. "Did the two of you have a falling out?"

Jo took a sip of wine. G.o.d, why is this suddenly such a popular topic of discussion? First Gabe, now Jacquelyn.

"No, it was always a temporary thing, just until she got her feet under her, which didn't take long, thank goodness," Jo replied with a forced smile. "As you can see, this is a small place."

"Right," Jacquelyn said, obviously not buying the excuse. "How did you make it work for as long as you did?"

"It was a day and a half, not an eternity, though it may have felt like it to Madeline. My couch isn't the world's most comfortable." Jo was getting sick of this. "She needed someone, and I was there for her. End of story. Now, if you want me to help formulate strategy, I'd be more than happy to do so-but I'm tired of being interrogated."

Jacquelyn straightened in her chair, looking taken aback.

Jo softened her tone. "I'm sorry. It's just I've heard them all before, and I'm tired of being verbally a.s.saulted and targeted with a million rapid-fire questions-all because I was acting with human decency and helping out someone in need. "

Jacquelyn's eyes narrowed, but she let it go. "Fair enough. Now, what do you think I should tell the press?"

"Well," Jo began, "I think you need to talk to Ian and Madeline directly on that one."

"I've already talked to Ian. We have his statement that we can give once Madeline approves it, but the people don't want to hear from him. They want her words."

"I don't think we can overstep our boundaries on this one."

"I'm not going to," Jacquelyn said, a wicked twinkle in her eye. "She still has to approve his statement, and it's my job to get her to approve what's said publicly. But I also want to know what she has to say. Let's speakerphone her in right now and get her input."

Jo's heartbeat quickened, and she hoped that Jacquelyn couldn't tell how agitated the suggestion made her. She didn't want to step on Ian's toes, and she certainly didn't want to hear Madeline's voice right here, right now, with an audience. She tried to keep her breathing even, reminding herself that she had to work with Jacquelyn, and this was about work.

Jacquelyn placed her cell on the kitchen table and started tapping the b.u.t.tons to call Madeline. Jo wanted to protest but resisted. The questions she wanted to ask, of course, were ones she couldn't ask with Jacquelyn in the room-and ones Madeline likely would not answer at this point anyway.

"h.e.l.lo? This is Madeline." The voice she'd been longing to hear came in over the speaker on the phone, breaking through the jumbled thoughts in Jo's head.

"Hi, Mayor Stratton. It's Jacquelyn and Jo. We wanted to talk to you about media strategies. Do you have time to talk?"

The mayor cleared her throat. "Sure."

Was Madeline drinking again? Jo thought she detected a slight slur to her words. Maybe she was just tired. She shot a glance at Jacquelyn. It was good to know Madeline was having a difficult time tonight too. As much as she wished Madeline was doing well, her breakdown might mean that she cared, even a little bit. Jo considered the thought, and her guard went up. If Madeline had been drinking and wasn't in full control of what she said, it could be dangerous. Jo would have to make sure Jacquelyn didn't get wind of what had happened between them.

She wanted to invite her back over, wanted to tell her that she was sorry. But none of that was appropriate-and she knew it. Madeline was her boss, and anything romantic between them would be dishonorable, not to mention grounds for her dismissal, Madeline's impeachment or both. She had to get a grip.

She heard Jacquelyn ask Madeline what she wanted to say to the press.

"Well, I'm sure I can guess most of them," Madeline said. "But can you give me an example of the questions you've been getting?"

"Sure," Jacquelyn said. "Did you know about John's affair before the news broke? Do you plan to file for divorce? Do you know the woman he was caught with?"

"Okay, I can answer these," Madeline said, although her pain was evident in her voice. "No, I didn't know John was cheating and with whom. I plan to file for divorce."

The words sounded rehea.r.s.ed and rolled off the tongue too easily, obviously a practiced lie-at least in part. There was more to that story, Jo was sure.

"Okay," Jacquelyn answered. "There are a few more things."

She turned to Jo. "Did you have anything to add, Jo, before we move on?"

Jo stiffened. She had a million things she'd like to say, but only one came out. "We would like to give you all of the time in the world to deal with this, but the media has been persistent. I think that at some point in the near future we should hold a press conference."

Madeline didn't speak.