15. Anthony

Chapter 15

Anthony

Today’s event, a visit to a couple of wineries, would be low-key and low-stress. As low-key and low-stress as any event could be, anyway. Invariably, necessary people were late and necessary equipment failed to function, so by ten thirty, I was ready to start committing felonies.

At eleven thirty, Jesse and Ranya arrived. God bless the man, he was always on fucking time. Whether it was because Ranya cracked the whip and kept after him, or—and I strongly suspected this was the case—that was just the way he was, Jesse never showed up late unless it was because of circumstances beyond his control. After some of the candidates I’d worked with in the past, I was more than a little appreciative of chronic punctuality. Even if his presence did do things to my blood pressure that even running his campaign couldn’t do.

And goddamn, he looked good. Real good. Some guys just didn’t wear khakis well, but Jesse certainly did. Then again, I supposed there wasn’t much he couldn’t wear well. He’d rolled his dark blue sleeves to just below his elbows, which was not only a flawlessly casual look for this event, but was also one of my favorite looks on a man. Something about it did me in every damned time. Laid-back but dignified. Giving enough of a fuck to dress appropriately, but not too uptight to relax a little.

But while Jesse was dressed to walk the line between relaxed and not, the tension in his bunched shoulders and taut expression was palpable from across the crowded parking lot. When his eyes darted toward me, that tension went up exponentially in the instant before he broke eye contact in favor of returning his attention to a conversation with Roger.

That’s a bad sign.

I pawned a few responsibilities off on some staffers, freeing me up to slip through the crowd to him. When I was nearly within arm’s reach, Jesse confirmed my suspicion that his tension had everything to do with me: as soon as our eyes met, his spine stiffened, and he pulled in a long breath.

Definitely a bad sign.

“You all right?” I asked.

He chewed his lip, and my heart beat faster. Was that regret I sensed?

“A few too many while we celebrated last night?” Roger asked, grinning as he playfully elbowed his nephew.

Jesse laughed dryly. “Yeah, something like that.”

His eyes flicked toward me, and my heart dropped.

“You, um…” I glanced at Roger. To Jesse I said, “You going to be okay today?”

“I’ll be fine. Listen, it’s…” He also glanced at his uncle before continuing. “It’s about Simone. ”

Nerves tangled beneath my rib cage. “Oh?”

“Yeah. There’s an article going around right now that’s really got her upset,” he said. “And I don’t blame her. That was some below-the-belt shit.”

“Is that…” I shifted my weight, glancing at Roger before looking back at Jesse. “Is that all that’s bothering her? I mean, just the article, or the rest of the campaign? Or…?” Don’t make me say it.

He avoided my eyes. “It’s all she’ll admit to. But whatever the case, the more she’s in the spotlight on this campaign, the more the media’s going to harp on her. We either need to reduce Simone’s involvement in the campaign, or she and I need to move up our divorce so she can—”

“Jesse!” Roger’s eyes widened.

Jesse exhaled. “He knows about the divorce, Roger. And I think for Simone’s sake, we should—”

“Absolutely not.” Roger shook his head and damn near elbowed himself between Jesse and me. “That’s career suicide this close to an election.”

“Unfortunately he’s right,” I said. “That, and any move we make will draw attention to her, which will only make things worse.”

Roger shot Jesse that pointed, disapproving look. “Son, the two of you just need to put on a happy face and a united front for a few months. Keep it together, smile for the cameras, and then quietly go your separate ways after you’ve been elected.”

“Is she still agreeable to appear at all?” I asked.

Jesse nodded. “Yes, but whether or not she’ll admit it, there’s no way around it. This campaign is taking its toll.”

I pursed my lips. “I’ll see what I can do. We’ll have to be careful, though. If she suddenly drops off the public radar, or her visibility significantly decreases, people will notice. I can ease her out of the spotlight, but it won’t be anything drastic and it won’t happen overnight.” I offered an apologetic shrug. “That’s the best I can offer without making things worse.”

“Thank you,” Jesse said. “Whatever you can do. Spread out her engagements, keep them to a minimum, anything.”

Roger gave a sharp, exasperated sigh. “You’re handling her with kid gloves. She is a grown woman.”

“I know she is,” Jesse said. “But that doesn’t mean I should just throw her to the wolves and wish her the best of luck.”

Roger opened his mouth to speak, but I put up a hand. “I can rework her schedule,” I said. “Just minor changes, but it’ll take some pressure off Simone.”

He scowled, but Jesse nodded. “Whatever you can do.”

“I’ll look over the calendar this evening,” I said. To Roger I added, “Any changes I make will be subtle. The public won’t even notice.”

“See that they don’t,” Roger growled. He walked off, leaving Jesse and me alone .

As soon as it was just the two of us, with no one nearby except the others milling around the gravel parking lot, my stomach started churning. What to say? What to do? How not to give away that something had happened last night and might—hopefully—happen again in the near future?

I glanced at Jesse, and we both quickly broke eye contact. One long-awaited night together, and now two grown men were reduced to awkward teenagers who couldn’t be left alone without getting uncomfortable. Maybe last night had been a bad idea. Of course it hadn’t been a wise one and we’d both known that, but a mistake?

“Jesse.” When he looked at me, I inclined my head and lowered my voice. “Are you okay with everything? After…” My gaze darted to the left, then right, before I looked at him again. “After last night?”

Jesse dropped his gaze and swallowed. “Are you?”

Was I? No, I really wasn’t. Not if I was honest with myself. Any other time in my life, this would be perfect, but the guilt and the secrecy…

I exhaled hard and forced myself to look him in the eye. “I’m not really sure, to be honest.”

“Neither am I. Anthony, I’m sorry. I…can’t do this.”

My heart stopped. It wasn’t like this was any great shock, but the words sent a ripple of a fight-or-flight-type panic that almost had me reaching for him in spite of our visibility and even while I couldn’t deny I was seriously relieved he’d beaten me to the punch.

Jesse went on. “We can’t. As much as I want to, I’m sorry. I want to. Believe me, I do. But with everything…”

“I understand. You’re not the only one feeling the pressure here.” Any kind of relationship was a bad idea, but I wanted him. I’d had a taste, and every argument against it be damned, I wanted more. But he was right.

“Still,” he said. “I feel like an ass for—”

“Jesse.” I was tempted to put a reassuring hand on his arm, but I didn’t dare make even the most platonic contact. Just having this conversation with people nearby was dangerous enough. “Listen,” I said, almost whispering. “We’re in this campaign until November. We’re working together whether we like it or not. Maybe it’ll be easier if we just call it quits for the time being, and when the election and divorce are over, then…” I let a one-shouldered shrug finish the thought.

“I don’t know if ‘easier’ is the word I’d use.”

I laughed softly. “Yeah, no kidding. But you know what I mean.”

Jesse nodded.

“Now let’s get out there,” I said. “Your public awaits.”

We exchanged halfhearted, uncertain smiles before walking across the parking lot to meet the owner of the winery .

This was for the best. There were no other options. It sucked, but it was the way things needed to be and it would make the rest of this campaign easier on everyone involved.

Easier. Yeah.

Something like that.

I thought concentrating was difficult when I wanted to sleep with Jesse, but that was nothing compared to after I’d slept with him. Especially when we weren’t sleeping together again, now or in the foreseeable future, nor would we be apart anytime soon. Events, rallies, dinners, speeches, traveling; every waking hour was spent in each other’s hair and in each other’s way. The tension was as undeniable as we were unavoidable, and his presence teased my senses like the mouthwatering scent of a cigarette whenever I tried to quit smoking.

You’re acting like a lovesick kid. A hormonal one, anyway. Get a grip, Hunter. This campaign won’t run itself.

It certainly wouldn’t run itself, and no matter how insane Jesse drove me, I still had to keep his campaign on the rails.

About two weeks after we’d put a stop to things, while we were on the road—when weren’t we on the damned road?—Jesse had another private dinner with his family at some glitzy restaurant. Since he was mercifully absent for a few hours, about a dozen staffers and I congregated in my hotel room for a campaign strategy meeting.

As everyone wandered into my room, pulling up chairs or sitting on beds, I stopped Greg, one of the unpaid staffers, out in the hall. I handed him a FedEx envelope and some cash. “I need you to make a run downtown. Drop this off at one of the all-night shipping places. Overnight service.”

He scowled and his momentary pause suggested he was about to protest, but then he took the envelope. With a muttered curse I probably wasn’t supposed to hear, he turned and left. As he stormed down the hall, he brushed past Ranya, who threw a puzzled glance over her shoulder as the disgruntled college kid left.

“What’s his damage?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Doesn’t like doing bitch errands.”

“Who does?” She eyed me. “Course, he does seem to get the lion’s share of them. Can’t imagine why he might be a little annoyed.”

“Yeah, well…” I glanced around, making sure we were alone. Then I took her out into the hall and pulled the door shut behind us so the staffers in my room wouldn’t overhear us. Gesturing for her to come closer, I lowered my voice. “Listen, we need to keep an eye on him.” I nodded in the direction Gr eg had gone. “Lydia’s already aware of what’s going on, and I want you in on it too.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay, what’s up?”

“He’s a plant,” I said, barely whispering.

“A plant? You mean like a mole or something?”

I nodded. “It’s not unusual. I’ve never run a campaign without at least one or two showing up.”

“So why not cut him loose? He’s a volunteer anyway.”

“Because if I do, Casey’s camp will just send in another one. As long as this kid’s still on staff, I know where Casey’s eyes and ears are, and I can control what he sees and hears.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”

“Exactly. But not close enough to let him hear important strategy info.” I nodded toward the closed hotel room door. “I don’t want him here for tonight’s meeting. When he gets back, I’ll have you brief him. Feed him some bullshit to take back to Camp Casey.”

Ranya grinned. “Do I get to make up the bullshit?”

I laughed. “Of course.”

Her grin broadened. “This, I can do. Who knew a meeting would end up being more fun than hanging out with Jesse and his family?”

“You blew them off for this meeting?”

“Fuck no. I wasn’t invited. You think those people would dine with the help?”

“And it doesn’t bother you when they snub you?”

Ranya laughed. “Snub me? Oh God. I should thank them for it. Yeah, they think they’re better than me, but because of that, I don’t have to sit through their god-awful family gatherings. Ever heard the phrase ‘they put the fun back in dysfunctional’? Whoever coined that phrase was talking about the Camerons, I fucking know it.”

“You’re probably on to something.”

“Of course I am. Now are we going to have this meeting or not? I need some time to come up with Greg’s bullshit.”

I chuckled and slid my card key into the reader, then opened the door. “After you.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” she said with a smirk as she walked past me.

“Was that sarcasm?”

“From me?” She put a hand to her chest and gasped. “Well I never .”

“Uh-huh.”

We exchanged glances and both laughed, then went in to join the rest of the staffers. Ranya found a place to sit on one of the two beds, and I leaned against the wall beside the table on which I’d spread several notebooks of poll results and other pertinent data .

“Casey’s going full-bore on this smear campaign,” I said once I’d called the meeting to order. “The Repubs are behind in the polls right now, so he’s getting desperate. He’s probably got people sniffing around every place Jesse’s ever set foot, looking for any hint of anything. I want the same effort put forth to find dirt on Casey.”

David straightened. “I thought…” He drew back slightly.

“You thought what?”

Clearing his throat, he tried to look relaxed. “I, um, I thought we weren’t going the smear-campaign route. Smearing Casey, I mean.”

“We’re not. What I want to do is capitalize on any Casey weakness as a Cameron strength. Casey has a damned overdue library book, I want to know about it, and I want the public to know Jesse’s never had a late book in his life.”

“Well,” Tina said, “the contrast between Casey and Jesse’s respective marriages is a good place to—”

“No,” I said, probably a little sharper than I should have. “That’s already out there. Find anything else . Now, the Republicans are also harping on Jesse’s colorful college history. All the crap about Jesse being a screwoff in college, even though he’s already addressed it and admitted to it. It doesn’t seem like a big deal when you figure in how long it’s been, how well he did in graduate school, the fact that he’s never denied it, and things like that. And it’s actually alienating Casey from college kids, so in a way, it’s backfiring on him.” I paused. “Problem is, rumors like that can put a bug in the voters’ ears to start, consciously or not, questioning the validity of Jesse’s academic qualifications and his legitimacy as a mature, solid candidate.”

“Like Clinton and whether or not he inhaled?” Carla, another staffer, asked.

I nodded. “Yes. And Clinton’s exploits weren’t nearly as recent. Jesse is still young, he still looks young, and voters will keep thinking about what he was like when he was younger. As a result, they’ll think of him as a kid. No one wants a kid in office, so we have to counter this.” I looked at Lydia and Ranya. “I’m going to need you two to help me with this part, because we’re going to be shuffling Jesse’s schedule around a bit. I want Jesse and Simone as visible as possible at some formal events and dinners. And for the love of God, get him visible and photographed around younger voters. For that matter, we need some younger politicians seen with him. People who won’t make him look young by comparison.” I smirked. “Keep him away from his uncle.”

Ranya giggled. “Oh, Jesse will be crushed.”

“Yeah, probably. And while you’re at it, get hold of Simone’s assistant. Let her know I want Simone to take extra care in how she dresses for events. I need elegance, class, and sophistication.”

“So I suppose I shouldn’t tell her you want her to look older? ”

I laughed. “No, don’t tell her that. Sophistication is the name of the game here.”

“Got it.” She nodded and started writing on her notepad, mumbling to herself, “Tell Simone to wear jeans and a propeller beanie…”

Chuckling, I shook my head. Ranya was about the only one who could get away with cracking jokes during discussions like this. It was probably because she was the only one with the balls to smart off to me, and because I knew she’d do anything and everything I asked without bitching or putting in a half-assed effort. Plus she could settle Jesse when he was wound up, which was a lot these days. Someone like Ranya had room to banter.

“All right,” I said. “To recap. I want Jesse around younger voters. Find dirt on Casey so we can put a positive Jesse spin on it. I want him and Simone portrayed as sophisticated and mature—”

Ranya snorted and quickly put a hand over her mouth. I tried to glare at her, but her mortified expression made me laugh, and when I laughed, so did everyone else in the room.

“Let’s just make him look a little less young, all right?” I said, still chuckling. “Make them both look like something other than a couple of kids playing house and pretending to be adult enough for politics.”

Ranya cleared her throat. “You know, if we want to get Jesse around younger voters, maybe we should get him in front of some college kids. That’ll provide a contrast between him and them, and endear him to the younger demographics.”

I smiled. “Ranya, if you ever want to get out of this PA stuff and try your hand at managing a political campaign, do let me know.”

“No, thanks. I just do this as a hobby.”

The other staffers snickered.

“Well, hobby or not,” I said, “you’re absolutely right. Andre, Ranya, and Lita, you three work out a strategy and focus on getting Jesse into college campuses. And not just universities. If Podunkville, California, has a community college, I want Jesse doing a Q the fact that we weren’t involved anymore didn’t change the fact that his very presence turned me on. If anything, it enhanced the effect he had on me. Time and again, like smoke to a quitting addict, and it wasn’t getting any better.

And he wasn’t getting any farther away.

Not at all.

Heart thumping, I closed the binder and pretended to be relaxed as Jesse, sleek and suave in a tux, crossed the sparsely crowded room with his uncle and Ranya. Closer, closer, until there were handshakes and small talk and “how was dinner with the family?” and thank fuck for the alcohol or I might not have been able to breathe. What I wouldn’t have done to get him out of this bar, out of that tux, and—

Breathe, Hunter.

Only a few months. Just had to stay sane between now and the election. And probably the inauguration. And however long it took for Jesse and Simone to divorce. And however long it took after that for Jesse to come out.

Fuck, who was I kidding? I’d been the skeleton in a man’s closet one too many times and didn’t want to go down that road again.

Even if the sex was amazing. And the man made me trip over my own feet. And he had a smile that was like Ctrl+Alt+Delete on my brain.

Get it together. Come on.

After all, whatever the fuck happened once everything died down— if everything ever got around to dying down, which they usually didn’t after a successful campaign—the fact remained we had to work together for the time being. I worked well under pressure. Shit, I was at my best in the worst crises. But this? This was bullshit. How the fuck was I supposed to make sense of page after page of poll results, surveys, projections, numbers, numbers, and more goddamned numbers while Jesse was in the room?

Might want to figure it out, Hunter.

“Anthony?”

My head snapped up. Roger, Jesse, and Ranya all watched me like I’d suddenly grown an extra limb.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Just…thinking.” About how much I want to kick everyone out of here except Jesse so I can…focus. Fucking focus.

My train of thought miraculously found its way back onto the rails, and I remembered one of them—Jesse? Roger?—had asked what we’d come up with during this evening’s meeting .

“Why don’t we take this outside?” I gestured at the other patrons in the bar. “Fewer ears listening in.”

Roger pulled up the sleeve of his tux and looked at his watch. “You three go on ahead. I think this old man’s going to turn in for the night.”

“Come on, Roger,” Jesse said. “It’s not that late.”

“Your perspective about what’s late and what isn’t changes a bit when you’re my age,” Roger said. “I’ll see all of you in the morning.”

We said good night to Roger, and as he headed upstairs, the three of us went out to the parking lot. I lit a cigarette and looked around, making sure we were alone. Could never be too careful, particularly not after Greg the Mole had grumbled his way back into the hotel earlier.

Satisfied there were no eavesdroppers nearby, I tapped my cigarette ashes onto the pavement and turned to Jesse. I gave him the rundown of everything the staffers and I had discussed, including the latest strategies for his campaign.

“Overall those involved in political groups like you,” I said, “but the voters in general aren’t convinced. Not enough for my taste, anyway. We need to keep you visible to those groups, but also get you on the ground and shaking more hands. Have you appear in more intimate settings with smaller groups so individuals feel more of a connection to you.” I paused to suck in some more smoke. “You’ve got a strong lead in the thirty- to fifty-year-old demographics, and we need to keep at least some of our efforts on maintaining that lead. At the same time, we need to work harder on the older and younger generations.”

Jesse inclined his head. “So everyone, then?”

“Basically. And for that matter, Casey’s latest bent is that you were a college screw-off. Like that’s news. After doing a little informal polling, though, we’ve found that his attitude is leaving a bad taste in the mouths of college kids. They feel like he’s attacking any student who doesn’t spend every waking moment studying, and it’s off-putting. We can take advantage of that and get them on your side.”

Jesse cocked his head. “If he’s already alienated them, is that really a group we need to focus on? Seems like he’s done the work for us.”

“Yes and no. He’s turned them off to himself, but young voters have a shit turnout in most elections. Doesn’t matter who they like or dislike if they don’t even vote. But give them a personal connection to you on top of a dislike for Casey, make them feel relevant , and they’ll make the effort and vote.”

“What do you suggest?”

I nodded toward Ranya. “She suggested getting you in front of college students, which I think is a brilliant idea.”

“Nicely done,” Jesse said to Ranya.

She sniffed. “Would you expect any less? ”

“Of course not, darling,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.”

“So much humility on this campaign,” I said with a wistful sigh.

“Oh right,” Ranya said. “This coming from you.”

I laughed. “Anyway, I’ve got Ranya in charge of a team who’s contacting every politically minded group on every college campus in the state. Including the little guys. You’re expected to visit students at Berkeley and UCLA, but show up and shake some hands at a community college in Yreka or Cape Swan, and you’ll make an impression on every student on campus. This will put a few holes in Casey’s attitude that you’re just some kid, and it’ll connect you to the young voters while simultaneously separating you from them. You’ll be accessible, but not one of them, because you’re not just some kid trying to get into office.”

Jesse nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

I brought my cigarette to my lips. “Of course it does.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” Ranya muttered with a grin.

“Guilty as charged.” I took a drag, then dropped the cigarette and smothered it with the toe of my shoe. “And I think I’m about ready to follow Roger’s example and get some sleep.”

“God, no kidding,” Jesse said. “Where in the fine print was that part about campaigns running us all into the ground?”

“It wasn’t in the fine print. It was in bright red neon letters.”

“That would be why he missed it,” Ranya said. “Hide it in plain sight, he’ll never find it.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s true.”

“Whatever.”

The two of them bantered as they always did, all the way to the elevator and up to the second floor, where she got off. Jesse and I both had rooms on the sixth floor, so we stayed in the elevator, which was conspicuously—and more than a little uncomfortably—silent now that Ranya was gone.

We stood almost an arm’s length apart, facing forward. I kept my gaze fixed on the numbers above the door, and guessed he did the same. As the doors closed, faint music filled the silence.

The elevator started upward, and Jesse said, “Think they have cameras in here?”

I furrowed my brow. “Yeah, probably.”

“Damn.” The note of playfulness in his voice hinted at what he had in mind, and set my teeth on edge.

“I certainly wouldn’t gamble with my campaign to find out.” I looked at him. “And either way, didn’t we agree—”

“We did.” He kept his eyes focused above the door.

“Then…? ”

The ghost of a smile played at his lips, and he shook his head, dropping his gaze. “Sorry. Never mind.”

I resisted the urge to curse aloud. There were few things that irritated me more than a damned tease. “Jesse, I’m serious. We—”

“So am I.” His head snapped toward me, and the vague smile was long gone. His voice unsteady with desperation, he whispered, “Anthony, I’m going out of my damned mind.”

I swallowed, closing my fingers at my sides just to keep from reaching for him. “You’re not the only one. But you said yourself we can’t do this.”

“I know. And…I know we shouldn’t. But my God…” He exhaled. “That was before I figured out what it was like to not do this.”

“So what do we do?”

Before he could answer, the elevator stopped. As the doors slid open, he lowered his voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. “You tell me.”

We locked eyes, and he backed up his words with even deeper desperation than what was in his voice a moment ago.

You tell me.

Please. Tell me which way this should go.

Tell me, Anthony.

The elevator doors started to close. I grabbed one side, and as they yielded and reopened, I said, “Whatever we do, it won’t be in here. Come on.”

We stepped out of the elevator in silence. Since Simone was in town tonight, and would be in their room at some point if she wasn’t there already, I stopped in front of my own room. Jesse stopped too, sending my pulse soaring.

Neither of us spoke as I pulled my card key out of my pocket. The click-beep of the card reader echoed down the silent, almost deserted hallway, and the clank of the door handle sent a surge of panic through me. Christ, could they have made the doors any louder? Everyone in the hotel must have heard. And if they heard, then they knew, and they would—

Fuck it. I don’t even care.

I gestured for Jesse to go ahead, and after he’d disappeared into my room, I glanced up and down the hall just in case anyone had seen us. There was no one around, so I followed him in and closed the door behind us.

And with no cameras and no prying eyes, we stared at each other. Fumbling blindly, I felt around on the door until I found the deadbolt. I turned it. Jesse gulped.

So what do we do?

You tell me.

I pushed myself off the door and reached for his waist, and in half a heartbeat, we were in each other’s arms. Clothes rustled and breath hissed across skin, but as we kissed for the first time in too long, my pounding heart threatened to drown out any sound we made .

I hauled him to me and leaned against the wall so we wouldn’t collapse. His kiss gave me a rush like that first drag after I caved to a long-resisted nicotine craving, but there was no guilt. No self-loathing, no sense of failure that inevitably accompanied a cigarette surrender. Just relief. Pure, blissful relief that was just as likely to drive me to tears as it was to drive me to my knees, but the wall kept me— us , thank God—upright.

Jesse broke the kiss, and we stared at each other, panting and shaking.

“I suppose,” he said between struggling to catch his breath, “there isn’t any point in mentioning we shouldn’t do this.”

“Not really. Can’t say it makes much difference.”

“Isn’t there some parable about forbidden fruit or something?” he murmured. “We want what we can’t have?”

“Mm-hmm.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “But that’s not why I can’t stay away from you.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh yeah.” I touched my forehead to his. “I’d want you this way whether I could have you or not,” I growled and kissed him.

Jesse whimpered and melted against me, pressing his hard-on against my own as his lips parted for my tongue.

When we separated again, just enough for me to speak, I said, “I want you so goddamned bad, Jesse. I can’t even…”

“Then don’t,” he whispered and kissed me.

It didn’t matter anymore if this was wrong. A bad idea. Unprofessional. Dangerous.

We needed to.

We would.

We did.