For the Record (Record #3) Page 27

  “Sir . . .”

  “Terry, please.”

  “Terry,” she corrected herself. “Is there any way that I can take the Friday editing class next semester? As you might be aware, my fiancé is running for Congress in Chapel Hill.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think I heard that. Maxwell?”

  “Yes. Well, if it doesn’t disrupt my entire schedule, I’d like to be able to be helping on the campaign as much as possible.”

  Terry looked through his notes and started reading a piece of paper. “Ah. You do have an interest in political journalism. Well, I’ll check with the head of department to verify that we can make an exception, but I don’t see why not. We like to tailor curriculum to our students.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Terry smiled again and laughed. “Please call me Terry.”

  With her schedule arranged and everything seemingly in order, Liz moved easily back into the academic setting. Her classes were small and the classwork rigorous, but she found that, as she always had, she enjoyed the work. It kept her focused and motivated. It did make juggling her Dear Congress articles and Justin’s blog, which she’d resumed writing after the convention, much more difficult.

  Sometimes as she was writing a new article, she found that she actually wished that she could be interacting on the blog. It was a strange new dynamic. Her journalism work still had followers, but it was hardly as interactive as Justin’s blog. She worked more or less as a moderator for the social media rating platform, which was Pinterest meets Goodreads for movie and YouTube addicts. She would start topics and write posts based on her conversations with others on the site. It was . . . fun. A good hobby that paid well without the stress of her career.

  But she was determined to be dedicated to both as best she could without stretching herself too thin with the campaign, the engagement, graduate school, and her charity work with Barbara. Her nerves were shot just thinking about it. And two weeks after school started, when she was overwhelmed with a pile of work, Brady dragged her away.

  “Come with me to New York this weekend.”

  “What?” she asked, glancing back at her work.

  “Just for Saturday. We’re shooting the commercial and I’d like to celebrate the engagement with Chris. Better yet, bring Victoria. Then we’ll have the maid of honor and the best man all in one place.”

  “Brady . . . I have so much work.”

  He stroked a hand back through her hair. “You’ll get it all done, but stressing about it every second of every day isn’t productive.”

  “Kind of like you and the campaign.”

  “The campaign has an expiration date.”

  “A new one every two years,” she teased.

  “You’re frazzled. There’s so much you want to do and not enough hours to do it all. It’s making you be less productive. Take a day off. Come with me,” he pleaded. “I want my fiancé at my side.”

  God, the way he said that word. Fiancé. It rolled off the tip of his tongue, circled around her, and drew her toward him. She just wanted to sink herself into the word.

  Brady, Liz, and Victoria arrived in New York City at an ungodly early hour on Saturday morning. Liz had dozed on the plane, but Brady, as usual, was unable to relax for much of the flight. A town car carried them across town to Chris’s apartment. He slid into the car with them with a yawn as a greeting.

  The car pulled away from the curb and started driving them toward the studio where Brady was filming his campaign spot today.

  “So, you’re finally getting hitched,” Chris said.

  “One of us had to,” Brady said. He was rubbing circles into Liz’s hand, which he held in his lap.

  “Well, if you knew Liz then you wouldn’t be surprised,” Victoria said. “She’s a long-term-commitment kind of person.”

  “Am I?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “You are.”

  “I’m glad for that,” Brady said.

  “My bestie is a keeper,” Victoria said, patting her arm. “She didn’t do any of the wild and crazy things I did. Though she did fuck a senator once.”

  Everyone in the car started laughing.

  “More than once, I’ve heard,” Chris said.

  “Oh, don’t y’all know the gossip? I’m a slutty home wrecker who caught the guy by getting pregnant.” She placed her hand on her stomach. “I’m at least six months now and not even showing. Such a mystery.”

  “Well, obviously you got rid of it once you trapped him. That’s a thing,” Victoria said dismissively.

  “That’s how I trapped him, after all,” Chris said, fluttering his eyelashes.

  “Getting you pregnant was the most awkward experience of my life,” Brady joked.

  “If only the reporters could hear you now,” Liz said.

  “Let’s thank God that they cannot.”

  They arrived at the building just on time. Brady was rushed away by the hair and makeup team. Chris teased him incessantly about it until the door closed behind him. They were given a brief tour of the studio Brady was using, which wasn’t much more than a few workrooms, a changing area, wardrobe, and then the main set with a green screen and very expensive camera equipment. Their escort left them to sit on a couch where they could see what was being filmed, but not interfere. Plus, there were doughnuts!

  Thirty minutes later, Brady appeared from makeup. He looked like himself and not. An even more perfect version of himself.

  “His flawless face has to withstand the high-definition lighting and camera work,” a man explained when Chris started to make fun of him again.

  “You look great,” she encouraged.

  “I would kiss you right now, if it didn’t mean I would have to spend another thirty minutes in makeup.” He looked weary of the chore, and it made her giggle. Served men right to see what women had to go through on a regular basis.

  Liz had heard Brady memorizing lines for the commercial earlier this week. She hadn’t had time to work with him on what he was saying, but she knew that he would be brilliant. Also, in film there were dozens of takes, so they could get it perfect.

  Brady thumbed through a stack of note cards and turned the phrases over in his mouth before the director walked him over to the comfortable brown chair. They had a couple different furniture pieces, from the chair to a podium to a large presidential-looking desk. They wanted to see which one suited him best with the lines delivered. The backdrop would be chosen from a computer screen, likely an American flag or a cozy study.

  And so they began. The first thirty minutes it was interesting to watch the new experience. Brady had done ad spots before, so he knew the drill, but Liz had never seen any of this. Victoria, however, got bored very easily and ended up spending much of the time texting with Daniel on her phone.

  “You know,” she said, “we should have dropped him off and went and looked at wedding dresses.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “How much longer do we have? We could still go,” she offered, looking up.

  “I have no idea. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with dresses, though. Plus, you know I’m not really getting started with that stuff until after the campaign.”

  Victoria sighed heavily and sank back into her seat. “I know. Have you decided anything, though? Fill me in! I miss you! I’m stuck in school all damn day and I need something lavish and entertaining to fill my travel-deprived mind.”

  Liz laughed lightly at her dramatic friend, but told her everything they had decided in the three weeks since Brady had proposed. “Brady wants to do a Biltmore wedding in Asheville.”

  “Holy fuck! How much is that going to cost?”

  “Do you think I’m going to ask that?” Liz’s gaze shot to Brady. “His parents were married there and it’s gorgeous. I’m really excited to visit and see the gardens.”


  “Fuck. I can’t wait. What else? What groomsmen do I have to choose from?” she asked with a wink.

  “Aren’t you bringing Duke Fan?” Liz asked with a hesitant smile. She never really knew with Victoria.

  “Oh yeah. Of course, but maybe he’ll be up for playing.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  “Probably not,” she conceded.

  “Back on topic. I’m thinking just you and Savannah for bridesmaids. That means Brady will have Chris and Clay.”

  “He’s actually going to take that arrogant brother of his?” Victoria asked, surprised.

  Liz had wondered the same thing. She had been happily surprised when Brady had said he wanted Clay in the wedding. Clay . . . the man who had tried to sleep with her and hated everything about Brady’s career. “I think deep down he loves him.”

  Liz hadn’t even realized that Chris had slipped away until he returned, looking frazzled. “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

  “I need to speak with Brady,” he said, averting his gaze.

  “You can’t. If you interrupt him with your news then he’ll never finish his commercial. At the very least, he’ll never reach the same level of composure,” she told him. “Not the way you look right now.”

  “Just spill,” Victoria said, standing between them.

  “I had a call from Mollie.”

  “About what? I thought y’all were broken up,” Liz said gently.

  “We are.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Liz.”

  “Sorry about what?” she asked cautiously. Instinctively she braced herself for what was coming.

  “Mollie was freaking out. She was talking with one of her friends who works for CNN.” Liz didn’t like where this was going. “They were out to lunch and her friend mentioned that they were writing an article on the real identity of Dear Congress.”

  Liz placed her hand on the table to steady herself. “Okay. So CNN is writing an article about me?”

  He splayed his hands out in front of him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Did she say who told CNN that it was me?” Liz asked, trying to remain calm.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Her friend was just gossiping, I guess, and didn’t think it would matter. Mollie pretended to use the restroom to tell me, she was so frantic.”

  “So, what’s going to happen?” Victoria asked. “Who even cares about some stupid articles Liz wrote? She’s not running for office. Brady is. And they weren’t even controversial articles.”

  Chris shrugged again. “I don’t know their spin on the issue. I just know that Brady should know so that he can get Heather to find out.”

  Liz knew he was right. She looked over at Brady smiling casually for the camera as he delivered his lines effortlessly. He finished that run-through and caught her staring at him. He must have realized something was wrong, because he stood, spoke to the director, and then walked over to them.

  “What is it?”

  Chris and Liz exchanged a glance and she nodded. Chris dove into the story he had just told Liz. Brady’s face grew darker and darker.

  “Great,” he said, blowing out a breath. “I’ll get on the phone with Heather immediately.”

  “I should probably get a hold of my editor to talk about damage control,” Liz said. “How do you think they’ll spin it?”

  “How would you spin it?”

  Liz slowed her mind enough to think about it from a reporting side. “Congressman Maxwell’s girlfriend is spinning articles on policy to promote his platform. Or maybe Congressman’s girlfriend hiding behind another pseudonym—what else are they hiding?”

  Everyone stared at her and she clenched her jaw. “I only think of the worst because it was my job.”

  “I’ll go call Heather.”

  “Just when she was starting to like me,” Liz whispered.

  “It’ll be okay,” he insisted before pulling out his phone and making the call.

  Liz wasn’t so sure. She had a decision to make. She had had something like this blow up in her face before, and she had no intention of it happening again. Before she had sat idly by as the media displayed her life how they saw fit. She had an opportunity to take control and she was going to need to seize it now before anything destroyed all that she and Brady had worked toward.

  She opened up her email and wasn’t all that surprised to already see one waiting for her from the editor, Tom Vernon. So, he already knew, and he wanted to speak with her on the phone. He had listed his number.

  Tom answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Tom, this is Liz Dougherty. How are you today?”

  “Miss Dougherty, what a pleasure to finally speak to the person behind Dear Congress.”

  “Thank you, sir. You are headquartered in New York City, correct?”

  “What? Oh yes.”

  “As this is a difficult situation, would you mind if we met today to discuss it in person? I’m in the city until late this evening.”

  After a brief pause, he responded. “I believe that can be arranged.”

  Tom Vernon’s office was cluttered with old cups of coffee, empty 5-hour Energy shots, and piles and piles of paper. The sight of the office probably explained why it took so long for him to get back to her most days.

  “Miss Dougherty, so nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too,” she said politely.

  “I trust you found the office just fine.”

  “Yes, I did.” Liz crossed her legs and sat up straighter. “Do you mind if we get to the point of this matter? It’s clearly out to the public that I’m Dear Congress.”

  Tom straightened his tie at her curt demeanor. “Well, yes, of course. I was the one who contacted CNN about it.”

  Liz’s mouth fell open slightly. “You did what?”

  “It’s an election year, Ms. Dougherty, and we’re always trying to garner more readers. So I made a discreet call to a source at CNN. With your celebrity status we could be huge!”

  “You outed me to the press for more media coverage?” she asked, shocked.

  “Look, we love your work here as Dear Congress and we’d like to keep you on. You generate buzz. You’re popular. People are interested in reading what you have to say, and they were interested in it before finding out who you are. Do you know what it will be like come Monday when it appears on CNN? Through the roof.”

  His eyes were shifty, his smile too big; his entire body language was overly enthusiastic. All she saw when she looked at him was desperation oozing out of every pore. He wanted her to stay and he wanted it badly. He liked the controversy. He liked the promise of increased readership to the online column that the scandal could deliver. He would probably pay her double or triple what he had been paying her. All because her name was attached to it.

  “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Vernon, but I have to decline,” she said, standing.

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Besides the fact that you outed me to the press without my consent? When we had a deal to keep my work anonymous?”

  “But it’s going to generate huge numbers for you!”

  She wished that she knew how to explain it to him in a way that would make sense. When she had written her first article for him it had been because she didn’t have any other options. She had wanted to prove to herself as much as to everyone else that she could still write articles and be successful on her own. She had needed these articles.

  Now what did she have? Brady, school, her charity, and Justin’s blog, which she loved. The world was at her feet. The need that she’d had before was gone. She had already proven to herself that she was good enough. Plus, so much of the fun of being the Dear Congress persona had been the anonymity and knowing that no one else really knew who she was. Without it, the idea lost some
of its intrigue.

  So, Liz raised her chin and gave him the best answer that she knew how. “No amount of notoriety would be worth it, Mr. Vernon. Furthering my career off of my relationship with Brady wouldn’t be right. If that means leaving the articles behind, then so be it,” she said. “I quit!”

  She wasn’t a pawn in someone else’s game. She wouldn’t let the media or Tom Vernon or anyone else dictate how she was going to live from now on.

  Chapter 29

  FIANCÉ

  So you got fired again?” Justin asked over the phone later that day.

  “I wasn’t fired. I quit,” Liz insisted.

  “You hold down jobs worse than I do.”

  “You started your own business and seem to be doing okay with that.”

  Justin snorted. “Only because I’m the boss.”

  “Well, whatever. I decided that I was with the company only because I had been desperate after graduation. It filled a void and now I don’t really need it anymore.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he said, his casual demeanor momentarily disappearing. “You’re not calling to break up with me, are you?”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “If you’re asking if I’m leaving the site, then no. Not unless you don’t want any more drama behind my name. I just thought you would like to know the nonsense your employee is getting into.”

  “Oh. You know I don’t give a fuck,” he said, sounding relieved. “I just thought you’d want to leave, since you’re going to be Mrs. Maxwell and all.”

  Mrs. Maxwell. Her whole body tingled. Holy shit! She was really going to marry Brady. She sighed pleasantly at the thought.

  “Just because I’m getting married doesn’t suddenly change who I am. I’m still getting my PhD, working with a children’s education charity organization, writing political speeches, and running a movie blog for a certain someone. I’m more than the man that I’m in love with, and I enjoy the work. It’s fun to interact with the people on the blog. It’s nice to have a hobby.” Though she did miss tennis. She had no idea when she would fit that in with everything else.