8. A Politician Not A Rockstar

8

A POLITICIAN NOT A ROCKSTAR

EVANGELINE

“ I think you like to make my life harder,” Rausch complains as we walk through the crowd.

“An unintentional benefit.” Darren flashes me a wolfish grin, causing my stomach to flip.

Ethel approaches and I look at her campaign lanyard with surprise. It feels like there’s so much I missed.

“I’m part of crowd control.” She looks at the few people that are left lingering in the park.

I laugh. “It’s good to see you.”

She looks me up and down critically and then nods. “It’s good to see you too,” she says as if there’s a double meaning in there.

“Stop monopolizing my wife,” Darren interrupts.

Ethel pulls her bag further up on her shoulder. “I don’t get paid enough to put up with your attitude,” she teases.

“You’re a volunteer. You don’t get paid,” Darren says.

Ethel’s mouth drops open. “We need to revisit this,” she calls after him as we walk towards the waiting car.

“Sometimes going off the cuff has benefits,” Darren revisits the conversation with Rausch.

“As if going off script is the least of our worries,” Rausch retorts.

“I’m not apologizing for greeting my wife,” Darren quips back.

Bailey opens the car door and Darren touches the small of my back to guide me inside. It’s such a simple gesture, but it has me reeling. The spark of his fingers trails along my back as I slide into the sedan.

Rausch takes the seat opposite us, resting his hands on his thighs.

“I’m not talking about your little stage dive, although it would be good for you to remember you’re a politician not a rockstar.” Rausch looks at me for the first time and I can see trepidation in his eyes. I don’t blame him for being wary of me.

“Aren’t they one and the same?”

“Now’s not the time to be funny. I’m talking about giving the press more information than they need.”

My head spins as I look at Darren, and his face falls.

“It’s like putting a bloodhound onto a scent. You just gave them a bone with Evangeline’s name on it,” he continues.

“Because I said she was settling things back home instead of campaigning with me?” he questions. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s not exactly a huge crowd.”

“They’re not going to find anything,” I speak up and Rausch’s gaze lands on mine.

“I think you underestimate the press,” he says coolly while the back of Darren’s hand brushes against my thigh as the car takes a turn.

That one touch is like an electric current that spreads outward.

“You mean the Lynchburg Bugle?” Darren jokes with a laugh.

Rausch clears his throat.

“Ellen was very good at concealing her business,” I add.

“I’m sure she was, but there are other factors.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Darren glances at me as I squirm in my seat.

“Sorry to break up this happy reunion,” Rausch says sarcastically, “but reality is looming. What about your family?”

Darren has a sheepish grin on his face. “Taken care of.”

“What is the nature of your relationship with your family?” Rausch asks me.

“Darren, it’s fine,” I reassure, using it as an excuse to place my hand on the top of his thigh and feel it stiffen under my palm.

“If you’re such a great chess player, then wouldn’t you already know?”

“Your mother, Maxine, is forty-eight years old. She was married to Lieutenant Patrick Bowen of the US Navy until his death during a training exercise…”

“Enough!” Darren raises his voice and I remove my hand. He angles his head slightly towards me.

“I know facts, not emotions.” Rausch grabs the handle of the door before Bailey can pull it open.

“That’s obvious.” I exit the car behind them, but then I’m distracted by the campaign headquarters.

There’s an unmistakable sense of pride on his face when he takes my hand and leads me inside.

“Oh good. I didn’t think you were coming back,” a short woman with brown hair pulled into a ponytail and cat-eye glasses grabs his attention. She’s young, maybe my age, and when she puts her hand on Darren’s arm in a familiar way, I feel the faint tinge of jealousy.

“I got a call from the Danville Daily, and they want to fact check a few things,” she continues.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” Darren smiles at her, and I stand awkwardly until he grabs my hand.

“Angie, this is my wife, Evangeline,” he introduces us, and Angie can’t conceal her surprise.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, oh my god, so nice to meet you!” she exclaims a little too excitedly.

“Angie manages”—Darren pauses—“well, she manages just about everything,” he laughs.

“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand.

“So, about the Danville Daily?” Angie looks at him expectantly.

“My office is right through there. I’ll just be a minute,” Darren offers, gesturing to the small space at the back.

His fingers linger in mine until the last minute, and Angie pulls him in the direction of one of the desks. I pass by a large poster with Darren’s face on it, above the words Dare for Change . Him running for office in theory was so much different than the reality I find myself in.

When I enter the office, Rausch is sitting in a chair that looks too small for his large frame. He notices me and puts his phone away.

“I know you don’t like me.” I get straight to the point.

“Whether I like you or not is irrelevant.”

“I don’t know what Darren told you, but I left because?—”

“I know why you left,” he barks.

“And you think I should have stayed gone.” I lean against the desk and cross my arms over my chest, readying for a fight.

“No,” he surprises me by saying. “Do you think I liked seeing Darren heartbroken?”

When I left, Rausch was here picking up the pieces. I clasp my hands in front of me. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Darren’s head hasn’t been in the game, and I don’t think his heart has been in it either… not like it should be,” Rausch confesses.

The small office feels even smaller with the weight of Rausch’s attention on me, but I didn’t come back to be pushed around by him.

“I understand that you need to know about my family situation in order to control the narrative. It might just be facts to you, but it’s personal to me,” I warn him.

Rausch nods, and silence falls like a curtain between us. I smooth down my skirt and let out a breath.

“You don’t intimidate me.”

“I’m glad we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He tilts his head as if waiting for me to continue.

“I only have Darren’s best interests at heart.” I pause, looking down at my shoes and then back up at him.

“That is something we have in common, as difficult as that might be to accept,” Rausch states with a hint of amusement.

“As long as that’s the only thing,” I smile.

“Well, you were right.” Darren storms into the office, interrupting us.

Rausch laughs. “And this is news?”

Darren drops a paper on the desk, shaking his head, and Rausch peers over at it with a raised eyebrow.

“They made Rory look like a fucking saint!” Darren roars. “Did you know they were going to run this?”

Rausch snatches the paper but not before I see the headline. Rory Colton’s first thirty days in the late Senator Kerry Walker’s congressional seat.

“You don’t need to be concerned with Rory Colton.” Rausch drops the paper back on the desk and Darren takes a seat. “Jordie Calhoun is who you should be worried about.” He leans back, crossing his legs and rubbing his chin. His eyes look dark and determined, and when they’re trained on me, I feel a shiver travel down my spine.

Darren sighs. “Just warn me next time.”

He rolls up his sleeves and I swallow hard.

“Is something wrong, Evangeline?” Darren asks with a smirk as he grips the edges of his armrest.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m just… is it hot in here?” I look around for the A/C vents.

Rausch clears his throat and then stands. “It’s been a long day. I need to get home and feed my cat.”

“You have a cat?” Darren asks in shock.

“Does that surprise you?” There’s amusement in his eyes.

Darren shrugs. “I just didn’t see you as a cat person.”

“I’m not a monster, Darren. I like animals. They’re surprisingly good company,” he says. “Superior to most humans.”

He stands by the doorway. “In fact, I think there are a lot of neglected pets around here.

“Angie!” Rausch bellows, and she appears next to him. “You have a little terrier, don’t you?”

“Benson,” she answers with a confused expression.

“Why don’t you go home and take him for a walk? And tell the rest of the staff to go home as well.” He looks back at me before he leaves, shutting the door behind him.

Darren shifts in the chair, his hazel eyes trained on me, and I shiver. “Come here,” he commands in a low, rough voice.