Candidate: A Love Story (4 page)

“There’s something there, find it. We need him for this strategy. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t be putting you through this.”

“He was in the conference room. He was given the plan. He’s an adult for Christ sake. How hard is this?”

Mark was patting his desk, searching for his vibrating phone lost somewhere under his reports. Kate may have huffed a little, and then turned to leave.

“Hey, is this personal? I mean are you having a hard time with him because . . . ”

“What are you talking about?” Kate asked turning back.

“Because he’s charismatic and the women . . . is this too soon for you?”

“No! Mark, I’m a professional, why would you. . . ? Wait, what are we talking about here?”

“I’m just saying you seem over-the-top with this, and I know things with the divorce have been hard on you.” Kate stared at him and tried to calm down.
Unfucking believable!

“Mark, my personal life has nothing to do with my job. This would be a difficult assignment for anyone. You know what, it’s fine.” Kate said, holding her hands up and backing away. “You’re right. I can fix this and I will. I will no longer need a sounding board. Sorry to disturb.” She turned and walked out as she heard him calling after. How the hell did he know the details of her divorce? She had only told one person in the office. It had been happy hour and Mary from accounting was her friend, well maybe not a friend, but she was friend-ly. They’d been to each other’s homes. Doesn’t that mean something? Kate had been two, three, maybe four drinks in, when Mary leaned over and said, “So, what happened with your marriage, Kate? Nick is delicious. What went wrong?”

Kate was just intoxicated enough to knock Super Delicious Nick right off his pedestal. Mary bought another round and whispered, “Oh, come on. I won’t tell a soul. Promise,” and then she crossed her heart like they were on the playground at school. Kate had spilled most of the sordid details of her divorce and now, thanks to super-trustworthy Mary, her boss clearly knew some, if not all of her mess. Lesson learned, she thought, and who the fuck still crosses her heart?

Kate pushed through the glass doors of the building. She stood for a moment and let some of her embarrassment slip away. She had nothing to be ashamed of; it was shared in drunken confidence and had nothing to do with her job. In fact, it was inappropriate for Mark to bring it up. Kate buttoned her coat, took out her phone, and began doing what she did best.

“Javier, did you hear yet?”

“Already on it, boss. So far nothing too bad, both women had underwear on, so no up-the-skirt shots. Mr. Malendar, aside from mounting the concrete horse, really could have passed for sober. That’s at least what I’m hearing and seeing so far.”

“Video?”

“There’s one up on YouTube, but it’s fuzzy, no direct face shots, and some guy bellowing at his wife to carry her own purse. It’s nothing. I flagged it as inappropriate so hopefully it’ll just get pulled in a batch. I’ll check every fifteen minutes and let you know what I find. All right to call you late?”

“I’m living and breathing this, so feel free. Be sure to check blogs too, and I’ll have a press release in a couple of hours. I’ll send it to you and I want it to all outlets first thing in the morning. If anything at all, no matter how small, comes up, let me know.”

“All over it. This guy gets Lakers girls, and I had to walk out on the first date I’ve had in a month to clean up his mess. Seems about right.”

She apologized to Javier before ending the call, and dialed a number she rarely used.

“Hello, this is Katherine Galloway from Bracknell and Stevens. Yes, good evening. Sorry to be calling so late, but I need to order a complete background check on a Mr. Grady Thomas Malendar. Yes, current client and in the system. I’m particularly interested in what he does with his free time. Any potential scandals. I’ll take everything you can find. Of course you’re backlogged. Yes, I understand. Well, it is time sensitive, so if I can get it any sooner than two months, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.” Kate disconnected and called Javier back.

“Hi. I’ve ordered a background check from research, but it’s going to take forever. Let’s start digging on our own. I need to know more about him, separate from his father. Great. I’ll let you know if I find anything on my end.” Kate disconnected and started her car.
Grady Malendar, you little shit. You want to play? Well, here we go.

Up until the moment he looked out over the large concrete mane, Grady was feeling good, carefree even. He’d transferred money that morning and made the drop off because Bryce couldn’t get away. Things with his other life were good, running smoothly and put away, at least for a few weeks while he played trained monkey. Sure, the media attention would get thick as his father’s election day grew closer, but Grady was confident his dodge and distract skills would keep the things he wanted hidden, well hidden. He would continue to act just as everyone had come to expect and no one would be the wiser.

But there was no doubt when he peered down from his giant stone steed that there was a crowd, a crowd with cameras. His blurry mind was pretty sure a few of them began chanting. This had moved past distraction into out-of-hand. He and tequila never did get along, but thanks to the cool evening air, his brain kicked in and for once in his life, the voice in his head wasn’t only his father’s. He too realized he was acting like a moron. Time to recover what was left of his dignity.

Grady smiled, blew a kiss, and dismounted. He put his jacket back on, draped his arms over his two lovely dates for the evening, and tried to return to the bar as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he’d just mounted the giant horse statue outside Roka in Hollywood. Grady grew more sober with each hi-five he received en route to the coat check. It was time to drop his dates off and go home. It wouldn’t take long for his father or Stanley to call, or maybe they had pawned that job off to his uptight babysitter. Was she going to call? Grady’s head ached at the thought, as he phoned for his driver, who was parked across the street. He’d go home, shower, and remind himself of what Plato had said about a man of moderation being a man of character and wisdom. He’d always loved Plato, but found his advice damn near impossible to live by.

As his two dates exited the car with kisses and the predictable “Call me!” Grady took two aspirin and drank a coconut water from the fridge under the seat, hoping they would stave off the headache. His arms were sore, probably from pulling himself onto a horse that was built to deter such things. Rolling his shoulders, he did appreciate how great it felt to climb something. He hadn’t climbed anything in a very long time. Growing up, his family home had pecan trees in the backyard. Those trees were huge. Grady closed his eyes and the memory of his father building his tree house settled into his fuzzy consciousness.

“Remember,” his dad had said, “no girls allowed.”

“Right, no girls,” young Grady had said, adjusting to his newly grown-in front teeth.

“Okay, next week we’ll finish the windows and pull that small mattress up here so you can sleep in a tree. Every boy should sleep among the trees, Grady,” he said, pulling his son into his lap. Grady still had the small hammer in his hand that his father had bought him. “It’s wonderful to build things, my boy. I wish I’d done more of it.”

“But you built this. That’s building, right?”

“It is. It’s the best kind of building.” He kissed Grady on the top of the head.

“Did you build our house?” Grady asked staring up at the darkening sky through the cut out in the roof of his very own place.

“No, our house was built a long time ago, back when people made things by hand and cared about craftsmanship.”

Grady wrinkled his forehead trying to figure out what craftsmanship was, when his father reached over and tousled his sun-bleached hair.

“All right, mister. We need to get back to the house before your mom and Kara eat all the cake and open your presents.” Grady jumped to his feet.

Heading for the ladder, he turned back to his father, “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re builders aren’t we?”

His father stooped to help him undo the rope across the entrance. “We are, Grady. You are the master builder and I’m your helper. Happy seventh birthday, son.” They hugged, and Grady could remember clutching his father’s white work shirt rolled up to his elbows. He wanted to be just like his dad on that night when he was seven years old and his world was as perfect as any boy could hope.

Grady’s eyes opened on his present life as the car pulled in front of his house. He took a deep breath and let go of the memory, as he stepped into the cool night.

“Thank you, Tom. Hope I wasn’t too much trouble tonight.”

“Not at all, sir. It was certainly not a hardship driving Lakers girls around.” Tom smiled at him and accepted the cash Grady placed in his hand.

“Have a safe drive home.”

“Will do, sir. See you in the morning.”

Grady watched Tom leave down his gravel driveway, tail lights against complete darkness. Dark sedans leaving, yet another memory from his childhood.

When the car was gone, Grady turned to his house, the one he’d helped design. He had lived out of a trailer so he could check on its progress every day for a year while it was being built. Lights illuminated the windows of his front porch and the coral tree that grew straight through it. Still a tree house, but much larger. Grady had no intention of cutting down the old tree when he bought the land a couple of years ago, so he simply built his house around it. Maybe it was an ode to his first tree house. Grady wasn’t much for looking back, but he thought about being seven at least a few times a year. Before things changed, before his father became human to him. Grady loved his dad, appreciated what he had given him growing up, he just didn’t always like his father or the choices he made. He was sure the feeling was mutual. Maybe they needed to work on that, or maybe it was best to just keep moving forward. They’d traveled a long way from that tree house.

Chapter Five

H
uge overhead florescent lights were beginning to turn on over the tennis courts at the Fountains Country Club on a cool March evening, as Kate pulled into the parking lot. She turned off her car and sat looking out over the expanse of terra cotta buildings and fountains, wondering again why she was there at seven o’clock at night. Grady had asked her to meet him to talk. He had called earlier in the day, interrupting her working lunch, to tell her he was sorry about last night. It wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be. Grady was already on thin ice, Christ that’s why she had a job. Sad, but true. Last night was just the cap-off, complete with two barely-dressed women clapping as he tried, and succeeded, in mounting a damn stone horse. What was it with men and pairs? Not good. Not only had she received the call that interrupted her dinner with Reagan, but also later that evening Senator Malendar himself called Kate to ask her what her plan was, and what she thought the damage would be. He was calm, like he’d dealt with this before, but it was still not good. Tonight would be different, at least according to Grady.

As Kate entered one of the club patios, she felt a little out of step in black slacks and black shirt.
Perfect, Kate, could you be any less country club if you tried?
She came straight from work and willed herself not to care. The waiter approached and sat her at a round teak table with an umbrella just above the courts.

“Club soda, please,” Kate ordered when asked if he could get her anything. The match on court six was over and Grady walked toward her, rubbing his hair with a towel. There was not a woman alive that wouldn’t notice him physically, but it was late and she was not in the mood to drool over Grady’s beautiful body.

“Katherine Galloway, it’s a pleasure to see you—”

“It’s Kate, and why am I here?”

“It’s a lovely night. I thought we could have a little dinner and—”

“Dinner? You dragged me all the way down here for dinner?”

Some of the charm dropped away and for a moment he looked human, almost confused. “No, I just thought since you came all the way down here that I’d buy you dinner. We can talk strategy.”

“We don’t need dinner to talk strategy. Here it is: Behave, keep your zipper up, smile, and keep your mouth closed unless your brain is engaged. That’s it. You’ll be thirty next week; this shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ll handle the rest. Just act like you have something to lose and you’re not a completely spoiled . . . well, ass.” That last part was a little harsh, but she was annoyed, out of place, and once again feeling like Grady’s entertainment for the evening.

He stared at her with crystal blue eyes that were lovely, glistening behind thick lashes. She did allow herself the briefest moment to notice. They were like the ocean in those pictures of places where Kate would never vacation without a very large hat.

“Wow, I gathered you were uptight, but we can now add frigid and angry, yeah pretty angry. I do have something to lose and I’m not an ass. Spoiled? Sure, but there’s all kinds of crap that comes along with that. Can I sit down, or are you just going to spank me for being a bad boy and be on your way?”