The Arrangement Page 9

  Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears. “At least he went quickly and peacefully."

  He nodded. “I know I should be grateful that all his pain's behind him, but it's still hard. Whenever I walk through the back door, I keep expecting to see him standing there in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee in that old cow mug. Everywhere I go, it reminds me of him. I can't even look at his truck sitting out in the driveway without wanting to scream. Everything just feels so empty without him."

  "What about your mom? Will she be able to run the farm all by herself now?"

  "I don't see how. She can't do any of the physical work anymore, and with Dad's medical bills, there's no way she can afford to hire extra help once I leave. She'll probably have to sell the place."

  "Oh, Nick, that's awful."

  "I told her I'd be happy to quit the Herald and stay to work the place full-time, but she wouldn't listen to me. I don't know what else to do. All I do know is the idea of her spending the rest of her life in some crappy apartment just about kills me.” Getting up, he reached for his jeans. “Honestly, I might end up quitting the Herald anyway. I don't think I can stomach going back to the city."

  "Not even if I'm there?"

  "I don't know.” He pulled on his shirt before sitting down to tie his shoes. “Have you thought about what you're going to do about Eric? I doubt he'll be very happy about the two of us reconnecting."

  "We'll probably get a divorce. It's five years till the next election. That's plenty of time for him to get his poll numbers back up."

  "Ally!"

  "Face it, Nick. His political career's the only thing he gives a damn about anymore—which you should know better than I do. He's treated you like a leper ever since he left for Washington."

  The look on his face turned instantly so forlorn, she could've smacked herself. God, why the hell couldn't she learn to button her damn lip? Before she could form an adequate apology, he gave her a quick kiss, then turned and left. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoed eerily in the stark quiet.

  Just a few minutes ago she'd been so happy, and now her heart dragged on the floor. Biting her lip, she hugged a pillow across her chest, trying hard not to think about that bottle of vodka sitting on the bar downstairs. She could've sworn she heard it crooning her name. No, she wouldn't go that route again. It had already cost her far too much. She wasn't about to let it drive away the one good thing she had left, although she seemed to be doing a fine job of that all by herself.

  * * * *

  Eric stole a glance at his watch, suppressing an impatient grunt. He'd already chewed out an aide for failing to pull him out of his luncheon meeting in time, and now he had to rush to get back to the Senate chamber for the last session before a two-week recess. This fight over the most recent finance bill would either kill him, or make him a force to be reckoned with within the Senate and his party—but better an honorable death than slinking away from the field of battle with his nose bloodied yet again. But for right now, he'd count it a victory if he managed to stay awake long enough to see the votes tallied.

  Climbing into his waiting limo, he sagged gratefully against the seat cushions. Only he wasn't alone. A balding, pudgy man in a plain dark suit sat across from him, hands folded primly over a brown manila folder on his lap. Eric recognized him as the chief of staff to the ranking Republican on the finance committee, with whom he'd been locking horns ever since he'd arrived in DC. Smarmy and calculating, he wore a permanent half-sneer pasted across his face, as if he were having a non-stop private laugh at someone else's expense. Eric had a sudden, gut-twisting sense of foreboding that he'd just gotten bumped to the front of the line.

  He hit the button to lower the privacy screen between the back of the limo and the driver, only to discover the front seat empty. “Your driver's been detained for a few minutes, Senator Courtland,” the man—Hines, Eric remembered now, Curtis Hines—said glibly, his thumb worrying the edge of the manila folder. “He'll be back as soon as we've had our chat."

  "Look, I'm running late for an important vote. If you'll call my office for an appointment, I'll be glad to see you before I leave for New York tomor—"

  "Believe me, Senator, I don't think you want your staff overhearing this conversation.” Opening the folder, he pulled out one of the two smaller envelopes tucked inside, handing it across to Eric.

  A sheaf of photographs spilled into Eric's lap. Photographs of him and Allison in bed, Allison's wrists tied to the headboard. He stared at them while time froze and his blood began to boil. He wanted to reach over and throttle the smug, smirking little shit sitting across from him, but he knew he didn't dare. If he blinked, twitched or showed any sign of weakness, he was as good as finished.

  "I don't know what you think this proves,” he said in his coolest, most bored-sounding tone, “other than the fact that my wife and I have an active sex life."

  "That you do, Senator—and apparently not just with your wife,” Hines replied, handing him envelope number two.

  Eric knew what it contained before he opened it, but he opened it anyway, the impact hitting him like a fist to his solar plexus. Photographs of him and Nick, taken during their afternoon together at the guest house. Nick on his back in the throes of orgasm, Eric's cock in his ass. Eric kneeling in front of Nick, sucking him off. He flipped though them quickly, his vision blurring with rage. Someone on his household staff had obviously helped with this; the photos were of too high a quality to have come from some peeping tom lurking in a closet. Someone had planted cameras inside his home. Someone he trusted had conspired to betray him.

  He shoved the photos into their respective envelopes, but didn't hand them back, although he seriously considered throwing them. “What do you want?"

  "Drop your opposition to the finance bill, and agree to be ... guided by those more experienced in these matters in the future."

  "In other words, vote the way I'm told to vote, and keep my mouth shut?"

  "In the interests of conciseness, yes."

  Eric laughed. “You'll have to do better than that. I've made my views on this bill quite plain. It's a thinly disguised pork barrel project with no real merit. If I change my position now, it's bound to arouse suspicion."

  "Better a modicum of suspicion than the utter devastation these photos would no doubt visit upon your career. The ones of you with your wife are embarrassing enough, but I shudder to contemplate how your friend Mr. Thompson's employers at the New York Herald would react, should they have a revelation like this shoved under their collective noses."

  "Do you honestly think these tactics frighten me, Hines? My father could wipe the floor with you even on a bad day."

  "Well, I can see that gentle persuasion will do no good here,” Hines replied with a sour little twist of his lips, reaching for the door handle. “Feel free to keep those copies as a souvenir of our conversation. And may I say, I hope the risk you're running is worth it, Senator."

  Eric sat numbly in the Senate chamber for the rest of the afternoon, paying little attention to the speeches and debates swirling around him. He kept eyeing the agenda, waiting for the finance bill to come up, but as time wore on and other issues took precedence, it kept getting pushed further down the list, until finally the session adjourned, with no vote on it taken. Now at least, he had a little breathing room—two weeks’ worth.

  Two weeks to discover which person on his household staff had sold him out, though he already had a fairly good idea. Two weeks to figure out how to turn this to his advantage. Two weeks to break the news to Nick and Allison. And if all else failed, prepare them for the worst.

  * * * *

  Eric arrived in Manhattan three days later and headed upstate, breaking all speed records getting there. He drove out to the farm first, finding Nick up in the loft, idly skimming a magazine.

  He sprang to his feet the second he saw Eric climbing the stairs, looking like someone had just jabbed him with a needle. “Eric, I didn't ... I
mean, Ally didn't tell me she was expecting you."

  "You've seen Allison?"

  "Yeah, she's staying up at the lake house. She came over for dinner the other night."

  "Oh. I see.” Well, that put a rather unexpected wrinkle on things, though he'd known for a while that Allison had moved back upstate. Still, the last time he'd seen Nick and Allison in the same room together, they hadn't parted amicably.

  "We missed you at the funeral,” Nick added.

  "After the way we left things, I wasn't sure you'd want me there."

  "It's all right. I'm sure you had more important things to do that day."

  God, that smarted. And he knew only too well that he had it coming. “I'm sorry about your father, Nick. We didn't always get along as well as you wanted us to, but he was a good man, and I know how much you loved him. I'm sorry you had to go through these last few months alone. I should've been here."

  Nick looked at him for a long moment then smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You don't need to apologize, Eric. I don't blame you for any of it."

  "Maybe not, but I've got plenty of things to blame myself for. I've treated you and Allison both shamefully. I just hope I haven't screwed things up so badly I've lost all chance of making it right."

  "I think we all screwed up equally. But if you're willing to put it behind us, so am I."

  "Done.” He kissed Nick gently on the mouth. “And on that note, I should go see how Allison's doing. Hopefully she won't slam the door in my face."

  "I doubt it. In fact, the other night she mentioned wanting to give you a call."

  He nodded, swept by a curious but welcome sense of relief. “If you have time after dinner, I'd like you to come up to the house. There's something I need to discuss with both of you."

  "Sure, but ... Is everything okay?"

  "I'll tell you all about it tonight."

  Allison not only didn't slam the door in his face, but she took one look at him, poured him a double scotch, and plopped beside him on the couch while she nursed a club soda. It pleased him to see that she'd evidently nipped her drinking problem in the bud, though he didn't mention it. It was enough just to sit here with her in companionable silence, unwinding for the first time in days.

  He knew she sensed something amiss, but to her credit, she held her insatiable reporter's curiosity in check until after dinner. When Nick arrived, they all retired to Eric's study, where with a heavy heart and no small amount of mortification, he related the whole distasteful story.

  They both sat in stunned silence after he'd finished, although naturally Allison found her voice first. “B-But ... How did they get the cameras in the house in the first place? I can't believe our security didn't find them."

  "The housekeeper smuggled them in, and then out again as soon as they'd gotten the photos they needed. The cameras were only in place for a few days, at most."

  "I don't understand how Angelina could do such a thing. She's a sweet little old lady, for God's sake! Why would she help these scumbags?"

  "For what it's worth, she didn't want to. The first time Hines’ flunkies approached her, she told them no. A few days later, her grandson was arrested for cocaine possession. She cooperated with them, and suddenly the charges were dropped."

  "Oh, my God."

  "As far as the finance bill vote goes, I'm banking on this recess to help defuse the situation. By the time the Senate reconvenes, I'm hoping to drum up enough opposition to defeat the bill with or without my vote."

  "But what if you can't bring enough votes over to your side? Are you still going to vote it down?"

  "I have to, Allison,” he replied softly. “If I give these people what they want even once, there'll never be an end to it. They'll hold those photos over my head forever. I can't let that happen."

  "Except it's not just your head they're holding them over."

  "Allison, I know what I'm doing here—"

  "No, I don't think you do.” She sprang from her chair and stared him down, her face livid white. “It's one thing to refuse to buckle under to their demands, but if they find out you're actively working against them, they'll not only tear out your throat, but Nick's and mine too. They're going to destroy us all, and you're too busy planning your arrogant little power play to see it."

  Nick, who'd remained silent during this exchange, suddenly jumped up, bolting for the door. Eric traded an alarmed glance with Allison and ran after him, catching him by the arm before he made it out of the foyer. “Nick, look, I know how bad this all sounds, but we'll get through it."

  "And how exactly do you plan to do that? By denying our relationship, pretending I don't exist, just like before? You won't get away with that if those photos see print."

  "They won't. These people are a bunch of thugs and bullies. They operate by intimidation. They're counting on me being too afraid not to do what they want."

  "You're taking a huge gamble here, Eric. And if it fails, where does that leave me? And what about my mom? How's she supposed to cope with this on top of everything else?"

  "You have to trust me. I'm going to handle this."

  "So I get no say in it at all, do I? Wow, what a shocker!” Nick spat. “I haven't had any say in this relationship in months."

  "Nick, you knew the deal when we got back together. I can't acknowledge you publicly, as much as I want to. Maybe in a few years, when the time's right to bring up the whole issue of gay marriage, we can—"

  "I know I can't marry you, Eric. I'm not asking for that. I just want to be able to walk down the street with you with both our heads held high. But I know that's never going to happen either.” He shook his head sadly. “I can't do this, Eric. I won't be your dirty little secret, not anymore.” Jerking his arm back, he dashed out the door to the truck before Eric could stop him, spraying gravel as he sped out of the driveway.

  He found Allison still waiting for him in the study, a fresh glass of club soda in hand. She nodded at the table, where she'd already poured him another scotch. “Sorry I got so hot under the collar. I suppose it doesn't matter that much,” she mused aloud. “It's not like I've got a career to lose now anyway."

  They sat in silence, sipping their drinks, the wheels in Eric's mind winding along their familiar well-oiled path. “What're we going to do, Allison?"

  "We?” she echoed. “There's a ‘we’ now?"

  "If we lived in a perfect world, and you could have your life any way you wanted it, how would you want it?"

  "You're serious?"

  "Yes, I'm serious. Tell me."

  "If we lived in a perfect world, I'd ... I'd wish that those rings you gave Nick and me last Christmas were more than just a symbol. I'd wish that I could love you both openly and not have to worry about what other people say or think. I'd wish that I could spend the rest of my life with both of you. In a perfect world.” She sighed. “But the world's not perfect, Eric. And neither are we."

  "I've always rather enjoyed your imperfections."

  She smiled sadly, reaching over to stroke his cheek. “Eric, I do love you, but ... I don't think we're going to work out."

  "I suppose that's your way of saying you want a divorce?"

  "I think it would be for both of us."

  It hurt to hear her say it, deeply and profoundly, though he couldn't in all honesty pretend he was surprised. “Would you do one last thing for me?"

  "What?"

  "Come back to the city with me for a couple of days. I have some things I need to do, and I'd like you there with me."

  "What things?"

  "Things that will carry much more weight with my wife standing at my side. But if you'd rather not, I understand."

  She took a little while to think about it, then nodded. “All right. I suppose we could use one last hurrah for old times’ sake."

  They finished their drinks and traipsed wearily upstairs. He'd intended to leave her at her bedroom door with a kiss, but she took him by the hand and led him inside. They fucked with a desperate, almos
t manic passion, crumpling in each other's arms. Once she'd fallen asleep, he tugged the duvet over her and got up, padding down the hall to the guest room. He lay there studying the ceiling for a long time before sleep claimed him, and he dreamed of perfect worlds, and the imperfect people who lived in them.

  * * * *

  Nick had just started mucking out stalls in the barn when his mother appeared in the doorway, her forehead crinkled with obvious concern. “Come back to the house,” she said urgently. “Eric's on TV. They're saying he's about to make some kind of announcement."

  Ironically, she had the channel turned to CNN, with Eric's image filling the screen. He stood behind a podium with a thick cluster of microphones affixed to it, answering a question about some new bill. Nick saw Ally there too, standing off to Eric's right, looking distinctly nervous. Nick gripped the arm of the couch, his stomach doing queasy flip-flops. What the hell was this all about?

  "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I'll make the rest of this brief, which I'm sure you'll all appreciate.” The room responded with a polite laugh. “In actuality, I have a pair of announcements to make. Firstly, as of this morning, I've officially tendered my resignation to the Republican Party. I now consider myself an Independent.” He paused, drowned out by the sudden roar of questions, holding up his hand for quiet. “My second announcement is of a more personal nature. In the interests of full disclosure, I realize now that I should have brought this to the public's attention before last year's election. The voters deserve to know, and moreover, it would have spared someone I care for deeply a great deal of heartache.” He looked squarely out across the room before continuing. “I'm proud to have my wife standing here beside me today. She's a wise, compassionate woman, and my life would be greatly diminished without her. However, I have also been involved in a committed, loving relationship with another man for a number of years."

  Nick stared numbly at the TV, nausea now replaced by complete paralysis. He couldn't move or think. Even the air in his lungs had gone deadly still.

  Onscreen, an eruption of loud gasps and shouts went up from the assembled reporters, but this time Eric plainly had no hope of quieting them. He stood there, calm and unwavering, waiting for the crowd to grow tired of listening to their own noise. “I'm not ashamed of this relationship. However, I am ashamed of my own reluctance to bring this matter to the public's attention, out of fear of embarrassment or censure. I accept that this revelation may cost me my seat in the Senate. However, I cannot in good conscience continue to deceive my constituents, or deny the man I love the respect and place of honor in my life that he fully deserves. Thank you for your time.” And with that, he turned and left the stage, leaving a stunned press corps hurling more questions at the back of his Armani suit.