A Political Affair (38 page)

Anne turned to Stephen. All her fears had come to fruition. “This is going to be bad.”

His face was grim. “Yes, it is.”

Chapter 28

The next day, Anne and Stephen arrived back in D.C. to face the music there. As they unpacked their bags in the house on Massachusetts Avenue, his phone rang. Anne continued to sort dirty laundry as he took the call.

   
“Hey, Patty.” After a minute of silence, he said, “You’re kidding me.” He shook his head and looked at Anne. “You should talk to Patty. I’ll put her on speaker.”

Anne eyed him warily and sat on the bed. Over the last few days, Patty had warmed to Anne, but she still intimidated her. Anne took a breath and said, “Hi Patty. What’s up?”

“Hey. I don’t suppose you’ve seen
The Range
lately?”

“Er. No,” Stephen said. “What’s that?”

Anne shook her head. “That independent paper? No. Not for a while. Not since I lived in Boulder. Why? What’s going on?”

“They’ve started something called ‘Bump Watch’ on their website. Every time there’s a new photograph of Anne, they analyze her stomach to look for signs she’s pregnant.”

Throwing her hand over her eyes, Anne moaned. “God, that’s embarrassing.”

“That’s horrible. She’s a senator’s wife, for Christ’s sake. What the fuck?” Stephen’s eyes narrowed in rage.

“Stephen, you two are in the middle of a sex scandal,” Patty reminded him. “Normal rules of decorum no longer apply to you.”

“So we should get used to being humiliated?” Anne said with a frown.

“In a word, yes,” said Patty. “Walter Fucking Smith has ads running twenty-four-seven depicting Stephen as a perv who preys on little girls. You’re already the butt of the late-night shows, and this stupid piece in
The Range
is going viral. There have to be a hundred photos of you on that site already, and Megan’s getting calls about it.”

Stephen grimaced. “Is there anything we can do about that paper?”

“No. I talked with Megan,” Patty said. “She thinks we need to let the joke play itself out. If we do or say anything, it will only draw more attention to it. The story will end on its own as time shows she isn’t pregnant.”

“Wonderful. For the next three months, I’m going to be paranoid about looking fat,” Anne grumbled.

“Yeah, might want to skip the carbs for a while,” Patty said.

“Thanks,” Anne said as she rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. That was a bad joke,” Patty said. “Listen. I need you two to concentrate here. You’ve got four months until the election. That’s four months to show to the world you’re a perfectly normal, married couple.”
 

“Which is what we are,” said Stephen as he rubbed Anne’s arm.

“Exactly. Go on a date tonight—somewhere popular. Show people how normal you really are.”

“And in four months, rational people will then see the truth and vote for Stephen?” asked Anne with no hope, only sarcasm in her voice.

“That’s the plan,” said Patty. “But never underestimate the ability of the American electorate to behave irrationally.”
 

The following Sunday morning, Anne raised her head off the pillow to see the time. Disliking the number, she wrinkled her nose and whispered in Stephen’s ear, “Wake up, sleepy husband. It’s late.”

Tightening his squeeze on her waist, he groaned. “One more hour? Can I have one more hour of irresponsibility?”

“Sweetheart, it’s almost ten o’clock.”

His eyes fluttered open. “Morning, sweet wife,” he said, nuzzling into her hair.

“Last night was fun.”

“It was.” He smiled. “Our first date. Just like a normal couple.”

“I know, and everyone was so nice to us—even the photographers were nice.”

“They were. I’m sure Megan will monitor the press.” He raised his eyebrows and poked her side suggestively. “After dinner was great, too. I’m surprised there haven’t been calls.”

She giggled. “We’re pretty damn loud, aren’t we?”

“We are,” he answered, nuzzling into her hair. “And I love having our own place where it doesn’t matter what we do.”

“I know it’s our own place, but it’s a little upscale for most newlyweds, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, curling up beside him.
 

“Yeah, though we do lack furniture and lamps.” He chuckled as he tucked her into the crook of his arm. “Sorry. I’m just sick of living with my parents’ stuff all around me.”

“I don’t want to be surrounded by all of your mom’s antiques either. I’m glad we got rid of them, and this way, we get to start fresh.”

“Some light would be nice, though.” He gave her a kiss. “If we ever get out of bed, I might look for a stray lamp.”

An hour later, they eventually left their marriage bed, and he began his search. In a few minutes, he called out from a closet in a guest bedroom, “I found some Christmas lights! Now we won’t be in the dark.”

“Great, but let’s sit on the patio right now. It’s nice outside,” she said as she closed the front door with the morning papers in hand.

Walking to the patio, she scanned the front page, quickly digesting the stories the newspaper editors deemed important enough to be placed above the fold.
The New York Times
focused on the Middle East. She turned to
The Washington Post
, and gasped as she read the headline,
Senate Ethics Committee to Investigate Senator Stephen McEvoy.

She didn’t see Stephen standing in front of her with strings of Christmas lights. “What do you think? Should I put these on the mantle?” he asked.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she held the paper so he could read the headline.
 

His expression soured, and he took a deep breath. “Even if you know something is coming, when you see it as a headline, it’s still a shock.”

“That’s exactly how I felt.”

He took the paper and examined the entire front page for a moment. “Oh good. There are three different stories dedicated to us. There’s one about our time together, one about you, and one about my past.” He flipped to the paper’s interior. “There’s also a timeline of our relationship inside. Can’t wait to read that.”

“I guess they were working on the stories all week to publish so many today.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t Megan or Patty call to warn you? They always tell you when something like this has happened.”

“I bet Mom told them to let us be. We can’t do much about it on a Sunday morning anyway.” He kissed her forehead and patted her back. “Let’s sit outside. I’ll get the coffee. Fresh air will be nice as we read this shit.”

The two devoured the papers as they sat on the porch with their coffee in hand. He dissected
The Washington Post
while Anne read
The New York Times
.
 

“I don’t think the
Times
story is that bad,” she announced. “In fact, it’s kind of helpful. There’s a chart of all the members of Congress who’ve had affairs with staffers and whether or not the member resigned. Many didn’t.”

“Were any of them with staffers ten years younger?” he muttered.

“Uh, Newt Gingrich, and he resigned. But of the others, a few of them got married and stayed in office.” Then she remembered something and happily looked around the scattered papers. “Speaking of which, our wedding announcement should be in the paper today. Megan is a genius. This is perfect,” she declared as she found their photo. “We look like your average couple, and the announcement doesn’t make you look sleazy at all.”

“Well, some of these stories definitely make me look like a sleazebag,” he muttered as he looked up from his reading. “They also have Walter Smith written all over them. Langford’s camp is still sticking to his original statement, saying he wishes you well, but there’s a lot of conjecture in here about me taking advantage of you and hitting on all of my staff. That stuff has to come from Walter.”
 

“How worried are you about the Ethics Committee?” she asked.

“A little.” He shrugged, but she could tell he was downplaying his feelings.

She frowned and said, “Me, too.”
 

He brushed his hand over her cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We just have to stay positive. We have a good, honest story, and we’re living, daily proof of it.”

“I know,” she said softly.
 

He picked up his phone from the side table and started punching numbers.
 

“Are you calling Patty or Megan?” she asked.

“I’m calling Phillip.”

“Why?”

“If I’m being investigated, I need a lawyer.”

“So, Phillip will deal with this?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “I need a big gun.”

Later that week, Trey waited eagerly for Walter to pick up the line. When he answered, Trey didn’t even say hello. “I’m calling with some good news for you,” he said.

“What’s that?” Walter chuckled.

“Our fundraising for this quarter has shot through the roof.”

“Ah yes! I’d heard people had stepped up their giving to Langford.”

“There’s no way McEvoy can beat these numbers,” Trey said proudly. “We’ll blow him away this quarter.”

“Good. You’ll need it because I’m sure Lillian McEvoy will write as many checks as she has to in order to keep her boy in office.”

“I know, but the Ethics Committee investigation is helpful. It’ll keep up a slow drumbeat of negative news about McEvoy.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s good, though he’s lawyered up by hiring Gene Nelson—he’s formidable. He always gets his guys off.”

“But . . . but,” Trey sputtered. “McEvoy fucked an intern, for God’s sake. At a minimum, there’s a sexual harassment case here.”

“I hope so, but it was consensual, and it was a brilliant move on their part to get married, especially with their families and all these solidly reputable folks lined up behind them. And by all appearances, they’re a happy couple.” Walter chuckled. “Not that I’d say it to the press.”

“So everything’s fine now because they’re smiling all the time?” Trey grumbled.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but we’ve got our work cut out for us. They’re a good-looking couple. People are drawn to that,” Walter explained. “And it’s pretty obvious she’s not pregnant, though I like keeping the rumor out there as long as we can. Anyway, let’s proceed with what we’ve got. McEvoy is a sleazy, rich Democrat who will buy his way out of any mess.”

“I like it.” Trey smiled. “And we’re working hard, as you can tell by our numbers.”
 

“Good. Because I hate losing money and I hate losing elections. I better not lose either one here,” Walter warned.

After a long August day of campaigning in the southwestern corner of Colorado, the McEvoy family was quiet on the flight from Durango to Denver. Anne broke the silence as she read the comments on a political blog. “Oh, this is nice. I’m a gold digger and a shopaholic because I was seen walking down the street near Nordstrom. What the hell? I remember that day. I’d stopped to get a cup of coffee, and I was walking to my car.”

“At least you’re not pregnant anymore.” Patty laughed.

“Yeah, right,” Anne grumbled.
 

Patty looked at her sister-in-law with sympathy. “Really, Anne, you’re doing great. They have to make up all this shit about you because you and Stephen are so squeaky clean and boring. And you’re wonderful at campaign events. People eat you up. The Republicans can’t stand it.”