For the Record (Record #3) Page 7

  Liz was stepping out of the journalism building when to her dismay she ran right into the teacher she had been avoiding.

  “Liz,” Professor Mires said in greeting.

  “Hello, Professor Mires,” she said. Liz had never gotten used to calling her Lynda.

  “I’m glad I ran into you. Will you stay after class tomorrow? I’d love to talk to you about some recent work that has come up,” she said with kind eyes and an easy smile.

  “Oh, um, yes, ma’am.”

  “Perfect,” she said cheerily. “See you then.”

  Liz watched Professor Mires walk through the doors and then retrieved her ringing phone from her purse. She glanced down at the number and saw that it was a D.C. area code.

  “Hello?” Liz answered.

  “Hello, I’m trying to reach Liz Dougherty, please,” a man said. He didn’t have a very distinctive voice and Liz couldn’t place it.

  “This is Liz. Who is speaking?”

  “My name is Ted Cary with the Washington Post. I was wondering if you had just a few minutes to verify some facts.”

  Liz’s heart rate shot through the roof. What the hell was the Washington Post doing calling her? The bigger newspapers had picked up her relationship with Brady, but nothing compared with what had been running in North Carolina. And she had thought the news would be winding down. What kind of questions would he ask her? Should she even comment on this?

  She didn’t know. The other reporters that she had spoken with had been in person, and after a few of the same responses she had blown them off. She was still in college, still had to graduate, and wanted to continue to have a life. She couldn’t have reporters around all the time.

  Curiosity won out in the end. She didn’t know what they could want her to fact-check, but her reporter instincts told her that it was better to find out than to leave her wondering. She could always refuse to comment.

  “What kind of facts can I help you with, Mr. Cary?” Liz asked diplomatically.

  “Just a few simple questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “We’re just checking out some simple matters before we move forward with our article about your relationship with Congressman Maxwell.”

  Liz felt a bit uneasy about that. It seemed every paper was writing about her and Brady right now. But she was sure that she could handle just a few questions, as she had done when she and Brady went to dinner. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer your questions, but I’ll do what I can.”

  “Very well,” he said. “First, were you in charge of directing the UNC Political Journalism Colloquium in April of last year?”

  Liz paused. “I assisted Professor Mires with the setup,” she said. She wanted to clarify, but she knew better than to provide more information than was in question.

  “So, you were at the event that day?” he probed.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see Congressman Maxwell at that event?”

  “Yes.” At least a hundred other people had been there and seen them together.

  “Can you elaborate on where you saw him?”

  “He was on a politician’s panel that I attended.” Still safe.

  “Did you attend a dinner afterward with Congressman Maxwell’s younger sister, Savannah?”

  “I—” Liz cut herself off. Now, that was privy information. Hayden didn’t even know that she had gone to that dinner. Savannah had wanted Liz to keep it secret because she didn’t like to flaunt her family’s status on campus. Liz had wanted to keep it secret because Hayden had thought there was some kind of connection between her and Brady. He hadn’t known how right he was.

  So, the question was: how did this reporter know about that dinner? Liz chose her next words carefully. “I ate dinner afterward, yes.” There—she didn’t exactly answer his question, and she hoped, but doubted, that he wouldn’t notice.

  “After that dinner, did you leave by yourself or did someone drive you home?” Mr. Cary asked.

  Liz swallowed. Oh, God, what did he know? Or what did he think he knew?

  “Where is all this going, Mr. Cary?” Liz asked. She tried to keep the tension and anger out of her voice, but wasn’t sure how well she did.

  “Just simple questions Ms. Dougherty. Fact-checking,” he repeated. “You were at a dinner with Congressman Maxwell and left with him after the event, correct?”

  “I can’t confirm that,” Liz said finally. Nothing had happened that night with Brady, but no one else had been there. “No comment.”

  He continued on, unperturbed by her reluctance to answer the last question. “Do you happen to know where you were the third weekend in October last year?”

  October always triggered a bad response from Liz. October had been the month of her first fight with Hayden. It had been when she had called Brady and they had kissed. It had been the start of her self-torture with the guilt of feeling like she had cheated weighing down on her.

  “That’s rather specific. I’m not certain.”

  “Did you leave Chapel Hill in October at all?”

  “I’m sure I did,” she said.

  “Did you leave North Carolina? Were you out of the state at the end of the month?”

  “I was here for Halloween,” she said in an unhelpful fashion.

  “Did you see Congressman Maxwell at that time?”

  “At Halloween? No.”

  She heard him sigh in frustration. She was purposely avoiding his questions and he knew it.

  “Based on the Congressman’s travel plans, he was in Chapel Hill the weekend of the eighteenth of October. Can you verify that he was in fact there?”

  “If you’ve already verified his travel plans, why would you ask me about it?” Liz asked.

  “Can you comment at all on your contact with Congressman Maxwell since he has been in office?”

  “Absolutely,” she said cheerily. “We’re very happy to be able to make our relationship official and tell the public.”

  Obviously not what he wanted to hear by his soft sigh. “Thank you, Ms. Dougherty. I’ll be in touch if I have other questions. Is this an okay number?”

  “Sure,” she said, making a mental note to program his into her phone so she wouldn’t answer his calls in the future.

  “Wonderful. Thank you for your time.”

  Ted Cary hung up and Liz stared at her phone dumbfounded until a text came from Victoria asking her not too politely where she was. Liz jumped as if someone had just run into her, and started walking to their designated meeting spot.

  Something didn’t add up. Ted Cary knew too much personal information. That was rather obvious. But how much did he know, and why did it matter? She and Brady were together now. That was the story. What spin could he put on something like that?

  There were a million scenarios, but she didn’t know which one to even consider without first knowing where he would get that kind of information. She mulled it over on the drive home with Victoria, and as soon as she walked through the front door, she gasped like someone had just knocked the wind out of her.

  She was dialing Brady’s number before she even drew another breath. He answered almost immediately. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you until later,” Brady said.

  “Erin.”

  Chapter 8

  ONE STEP CLOSER

  What?” Brady asked in confusion.

  “Erin talked to a reporter,” Liz told him. Erin was Brady’s ex-girlfriend. They had broken up after he had visited Liz in October.

  “What makes you think that? She’s not the type to get involved with the press.”

  “She is the press,” Liz reminded him. Erin worked as an anchor for Baltimore Mornings, though it was kind of a stretch in Liz’s mind to call her press.

  “So are you, and you’re not eager to talk to
anyone about our relationship. I highly doubt that Erin is either,” Brady answered confidently.

  “I received a call from the Washington Post,” Liz explained.

  That clearly got his attention. “About Erin?” he asked.

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “Then why do you suspect her?”

  Liz launched into everything that had happened between her and the Post reporter who had called her. She could almost hear the silence on his end growing heavier by the end of the conversation.

  “When I suggested that you get more comfortable around reporters, I didn’t mean that you should start confirming facts when we don’t even know what the article is about,” Brady said.

  “I didn’t confirm anything but what was public knowledge. I was at the colloquium, I was in charge of it, and you were there. Anything about us being together afterward or seeing you in October, I avoided. He wouldn’t tell me what the article was about, just that he had simple questions for me.”

  She had felt so confident when she had dialed his number to tell him about what had happened. Now hearing his frustration made her feel unsure. Should she have just directed the man to Heather? Her first instinct had been to find out what he knew. It was the reporter in her.

  “Liz, you can’t just do what you want. Even if it might not seem like he was leading you into questions, he was. This is why I have a press team.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I still think it’s Erin, though.”

  “There are a number of explanations,” Brady said.

  “But she was there at the dinner. I didn’t tell anyone else I was there. Not even Hayden. You broke up with her right after your visit in October. It fits,” Liz encouraged. She had to be right about this.

  “I doubt Erin would do that,” he said curtly.

  “What? Why? If Hayden would do it . . .”

  “Erin isn’t Hayden,” Brady said simply.

  Liz ground her teeth together. “No, she’s not,” she said, trying to keep controlled, “but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Erin is one option. But we don’t know for certain it was her. I’m going to have to get Heather on this right away, since the press is on this now.”

  Liz groaned. She did not want to talk to Heather. Liz wasn’t a “Heather approved” choice for Brady. Heather was here for the long haul, and she wanted Brady to be with someone who would further his career. So far Liz was just a black mark on Brady’s otherwise impeccable record.

  “I’ll be in touch about the Post,” Brady said before saying good-bye and disconnecting.

  Even though they talked every night when he got off work, she never felt as if there was enough time. She was ready to graduate so that they could be together more often. At least, until she moved to New York City. She sighed just thinking about her dream job at the Times.

  About fifteen minutes after their call ended, just when she was getting into a TV show to try to numb her mind, her phone rang again.

  “Hello?”

  “Liz, this is Heather.”

  Well, that was fast.

  “Hey, Heather.”

  “Brady told me I should handle a situation with the press. I feel like I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Heather said coolly.

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Care to tell me what happened?”

  “Didn’t Brady tell you already?”

  “He told me to handle the situation. I’m handling the situation. As far as I’m concerned you’re the situation. One that keeps cropping up no matter how much I try to tamp it down,” Heather said.

  Liz wanted to give back a biting retort, but she really was in the wrong. At least partially. She hadn’t meant to do any harm by talking to the reporter, but it seemed like everything she did could do wrong in Brady’s world.

  “I just . . . thought I could handle it. The questions didn’t seem leading and then when I saw where he was going I got off the phone,” Liz told her.

  “I’m still just in shock over here. Why would you think it was a good idea to talk to a reporter at all? I don’t know what your motives are in continually thwarting the system we have in place, but it stops today.”

  “Heather, I’m not thwarting the system! God, I just answered a few questions. I’m sorry.”

  “You spoke to a reporter and then you spoke to Brady about it. He doesn’t need more things to deal with. That is why he has me. So next time you think about screwing everything up just give me a ring so I can remind you about how stupid it is. I’m here to take care of everything. Not you. Not him. Press go through me. End of the story.”

  “I understand that all press go through you, but I should still be able to call and talk to Brady about these things if I need to,” Liz told her. Brady wasn’t on a need-to-know basis with her. They had a relationship. She couldn’t hold in everything that might bother him.

  “This is why you’re a problem,” Heather spat.

  “I’m not a problem!” Liz said. “I’m Brady’s girlfriend.”

  “You think that just because Brady decided to give you a chance after your affair was outed that you’re suddenly special? No, you’re not. You have to follow the same routines as everyone else. You go through the right channels. You don’t fuck this up, because every single thing that you do, God help us all, reflects back on him. He is important. He is special. We need him in office. You—” she said as if she couldn’t even fathom why she was still talking to Liz, “you are just a sideline display. Nothing more than a phase. Just try not to screw up while you’re still around.”

  Liz’s heart stopped. A sideline display. A phase. While you’re still around. Those words made her head spin.

  Just the thought ate away at her. Could she just be a temporary thing for Brady? Could he be using her to try to cover up the bad publicity? Her gut instinct told her no, that she was crazy. But maybe it wasn’t that crazy. She could never let Heather know that she secretly harbored these fears, though.

  “I already apologized,” Liz said gruffly. “I can’t take back the conversation, but I will continue to talk to Brady as I please. Whether you choose to believe I’m here to stay or not is entirely up to you, but threatening me is only going to make me dig my feet in. So you should just get used to my being here.”

  “I’ve been around Brady since his very first run for office. Do you know how many girls have come and gone since then?”

  Liz shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that. “It really doesn’t matter to me if it’s one or a hundred. I’m here now, and you’ll need more than empty threats to get rid of me. If you’re upset because I spoke to the press, fine. I’ll be more careful next time. If you’re upset because I’m with Brady, then you’ll just have to get over it.”

  “I’m upset because you’re deteriorating everything we’ve worked toward. I don’t care about your delusions. I care about doing my job, and I’m damn good at it. Next time a reporter calls you, get his name and number, and report directly to me what he wanted. Are we clear?”

  Liz wanted to tell her to fuck off. She wanted to tell her that she wasn’t an employee and couldn’t be pushed around like this. But she couldn’t. She knew that what Heather was doing was in Brady’s best interest, even if she was a raving bitch when talking to Liz. She just hated that it seemed that everything Liz did brought another wave of disapproval.

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Dougherty. It’s always a pleasure,” Heather snapped before hanging up.

  Liz chucked her phone onto her bed in frustration.

  Ambition. It was all just ambition. Ambition made the world go round. Brady, who used it to get into Congress at twenty-seven. Heather, who rode his coattails to push for her dream. Calleigh and Hayden, who used Liz to get ahead. Liz, who had spent her entire life doing everything she could to work as
a reporter.

  No one was exempt. Ambition did as much good as it did damage, delivered dreams as easily as it incinerated them. What was the price of it all? How far ahead could she get before she was pulled down? Liz thought about how perfect her life had felt last year—seemingly perfect boyfriend, highest scholarship in the school, editor at the newspaper, internship at the New York Times. It was exactly what she had argued with Hayden about back then. Already she didn’t have the paper, and her new perfect boyfriend was kind of part of the problem.

  She needed to get away so she could clear her head or else she was going to combust. Changing into workout clothes, she hopped into her car and drove over to the tennis courts. She hadn’t been taking regular lessons for a while because she was so busy with the paper, but now that she wasn’t on the paper she no longer had an excuse. She was ready to get her ass kicked to help her forget what was going on in her life.

  She strode into the complex she had been going to for the past four years. Her regular instructor, Tana, was pretty hard-core, and Liz had even gotten used to Hank, a power tennis player who she’d had her differences with in the past. Either of them would probably laugh her off the court for how out of shape she was.

  “Hello! How can I help you?” a cheery redhead asked Liz when she walked inside.

  “Is Tana in?”

  The girl checked her schedule and then shook her head. “She’s already left for the day.”

  “Hank here by any chance?” Liz asked as her second-best option.

  “Oh no, he’s out all week on vacation.”

  Liz sighed. Great. Guess she would be serving to the net.

  “But Easton is here.” The girl’s eyes got big and glassy when she said the name. “He just finished his last lesson of the day. I could ask him if you wanted.” She was already out of her seat before Liz could respond.

  “Um . . . who is Easton?”

  “He’s our newest instructor. He started in September, but he’s always booked.”

  By Ginger’s reaction, Liz could think of only one reason why. “Sure. Easton is fine.”