Room 702 (38 page)

Jack Beaumont sits down on the couch, loosens his tie, and pours himself a double scotch on the rocks.
 
After a healthy swallow, he wonders if she is going to show.
 
More than that, he isn’t sure what he’s getting himself into.

After five years in Sacramento, the handsome state senator has recently announced his bid for an empty congressional seat near his hometown of Modesto.
 
He is currently doing very well in the polls, and hopes to win the Democratic primary later in the year.

At the moment, however, points, approvals, donors and the campaign are the last thing on his mind.

He is more concerned with the arrival of his anticipated guest.

She is the only daughter of one of the Republican kings from Orange County, a widower driven by power.
 
She comes from a dynasty of wealthy conservative politicians. Jack is a self-made man with natural charisma, a man who believes he can do something to help his fellow American.
 
From humble beginnings, Jack secured scholarship playing soccer for the Citadel.
 
During school, he worked the wrong thirty hours of a week, pulling time on the graveyard shift to earn extra money.

He sips the drink again and thinks about how they met.

He knew her face from countless tabloid photographs.
 
Something of an heiress (but without the slutty reputation), she had just finished her pre-med undergraduate work at Stanford and had been dragged along to an event in Sacramento with her father.
 
Dressed perfectly in couture (no doubt in a garment that made up his entire wardrobe budget for the year), she was polished, sophisticated and had more innate class at twenty-three than he would probably accumulate in his entire life.

Unable to take his eyes off her, Jack had watched her walk through the room, greet various people and then lost sight of her until, during some presentation or another, he had excused himself to refresh his drink and step outside and check his e-mail – he was expecting something confidential from his campaign manager.
 
Finding a hidden terrace, he never expected to meet her there, and especially not smoking.

 
She looked up at him, and asked, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Those things will kill you, you know that, right?”

“I know.
 
Terrible habit.”

“Mind if I bum one from you?” Jack hadn’t known what had made him ask the question.
 
He had given up smoking years ago.

“You can finish this one, if you want.”
 

He walked over to her, on the balcony of the Citizen hotel and took the lit cigarette from her outstretched hand.
 
Putting the rolled paper darkened by red lipstick in his mouth, he offered his hand and said, “Jack Beaumont, very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, I know who you are Mr. Beaumont.
 
Furthermore, it goes without saying you know who I am.”

“You can’t blame me for that, you’d have to fault the media.”

He enjoyed the nicotine filtering into his lungs and she waited next to him in silence.
 
Unsure what or why, he didn’t want her to go.
 
He wanted to stay in her presence, if only for a few minutes longer.
 
Having honed his conversation skills over the years, he was surprised to find himself without a topic to discuss.
 
She had, in a matter of moments, verbally disarmed him.

“So, what brings you to fair Sacramento?” he finally managed to ask.

“It’s a deal I have worked out with my father.”

“Really?”

“Basically, I play my part a few times a year and bang, unlimited funds for my own pocket.”

Jack chuckled and said, “Wish I had something similar worked out.”
 
“You wouldn’t say that if you were me.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“My father and I haven’t agreed on politics since I asked him why we weren’t recycling when I was five years old.
 
And yet, I’ve respected him as my father and kept my opinions to myself.
 
Don’t want to be an ‘embarrassment’ to him or the rest of his cronies.”
“Miss Hartley, are you trying to tell me,” Jack dropped his voice very low and continued, “that you might be a Democrat?”

It was her turn to laugh.
 
“The only thing I am is disillusioned.”

“That’s disappointing to hear.”

She tucked her arms around her small frame and said, “It’s the truth.”

“I take it you’re not going to follow in the family tradition?”

“I spent most of college fighting off men who perceived themselves to be heirs to the proverbial throne.
 
My antiquated hand in marriage would have easily been their meal ticket to a better life.”
 
“That’s sad.”
 
“It isn’t if it’s true.”
 
“So, no one actually liked you for you?
 
I find that difficult to believe.”
 
“Aren’t you sweet?”
Suddenly, the grass didn’t look so green.
 
Rachel filled the silence by pulling an additional cigarette from her purse.
 
Putting the unlit Marlboro to her mouth, she offered Jack the lighter, which he was only to happy comply, flicking the flame near her delicate lips.
 
Clearing his throat, Jack asked, “And now?”

“Even after turning away scores of rich and connected boys, Dad’s trying to push his campaign advisor on me.”

“Karl Simpson?”

“The very same.”

Jack knew Karl.
 
In fact, knew him too well.
 
They had been in the same masters program at Harvard.
 
From what Jack could recall of the man, Karl was a narcissistic asshole who had little actual skill.
 
The man survived on his good looks and innate charm, but lacked any tangible qualities.
 
Karl wasn’t a game changer or a rainmaker, didn’t see the big picture and furthermore, Karl was only looking out for one person in his life, and that man was Karl Simpson.

“Stay away from him.”

Rachel’s dark eyebrows went up and she asked, “You sound pretty sure about yourself.”

“Just trust me.”

“Anything I should warn my father about?”

“Even if I don’t agree with most of his platforms, your father is a smart man.
 
If he didn’t do his homework, then that’s his own fault.”

“Any other advice?”

“You could give me your phone number.”

“I could, but should I?”

“You strike me as the Blackberry type, why not just add me to BBM?”

“You know what you want, don’t you, Mr. Beaumont?”

“Most of the time.”

She looked up at him, and studied his face.
 
Finally she gave him the details which he quickly added to his own device, then said, “I need to get back.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

“You hope,” she’d concluded, gifting him half of the unsmoked cigarette.
 

In the Winchester, Jack pours himself some more scotch.
 
Since that night six months ago, they had developed an unorthodox relationship.
 
Sometimes he would go days without hearing from her, other times she was the last person he messaged before going to sleep.
 
In today’s world of digital scandals, they are both careful to never exchange pictures – their conversations remain vague and rarely refer to any actual names.
 
After having fought his feelings for months, he finally admitted to himself that his interest in Rachel Hartley was more than just friendship.
 
Jack vacillated believing she had real feelings for him or she was just a spy for her father and had no interest in him.

There is a knock on the door.

Jack calmly put his glass down and walks over to answer it.
 
Looking at the reflected peephole image, he is pleased to see a familiar young woman standing in front of him.
 
Unlocking the door, he opens it and she walks through, silently, looking around.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.”

Jack walks over to the mini bar and pulls out a small bottle of whiskey, then pops a coke and mixes the two together.
 
Stirring the drink, he says, “Sorry, they don’t have any lime.”

Even though they’ve only met in person months ago, he knows many of her favorites, locked away for moments like this one.
 
Taking the glass to her, he clinks their beverages together and says, “Cheers.”

She takes a larger than ladylike swallow before he says, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show.”

“I wasn’t so sure of myself.”

“I’m not forcing—”

“No, I’m here because I want to be,” she interrupts.

“And your father?”

“Has no idea where I am.”

 
Jack breathes a sigh of relief.
 
He has also privately wondered if she is talking to him to get back at her father for some transgression or another.

“So, we’re here.”

“It seemed important to you that we meet in person.”

“It is.”
 
Having faced lawmakers, voters, and other political opposition, Jack stalls for a moment, afraid of how to proceed.
 
He asks, “Are you hungry?”

“No, I had some In and Out on the way over.”
 
She sits on the leather chair and he takes a seat across from her on the couch, gripping on to his drink like a life raft.
 
She continues, “Anyway, as nice as the food is at the Winchester, I’m fairly certain that’s not the reason you invited me over tonight.”

“That’s correct.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Really?
 
I wasn’t aware there was an ‘us.’”

He knows she had been burned, repeatedly in the past.
 
Everyone wants something from the Hartley family.
 
He just wants her.
“There isn’t, but I was hoping there might be a chance for one.”

She remains motionless.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Rachel, but I think we have a deeper connection than just friendship.”

“I—”

“I know you feel it too.”

“I don’t know what sort of fantasy relationship you’ve developed in your head over the past few months, but I’m sorry if I led you on.”

“So, that’s it then?
 
Over before we can even start anything?”

She looks at her perfectly manicured nails, and not glancing up, says, “I’m announcing my engagement to Karl at my father’s next event.”

“What?” Jack leaps out of his seat. “What the hell happened?”

“I’d rather not get into the details.”

Jack immediately begins pacing.
 
Before he can think to say anything else, he blurts out, “He’s going to cheat on you, you know that right?”

“I don’t care what he does.”

“What happened to you?
 
Why did you really come here tonight?”

“To tell you we have to stop communicating.”

 
“Why?”

“I don’t understand your question.”

“Allow me to clarify, why did you come here tonight.
 
You could have told me this over the phone.”

“I…”

He asks bitterly, “Do you need saving poor little rich girl?
 
Do you want me to help break things off between you and Karl?
 
Do you want me to be your excuse?”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.”

“Then why are you engaged to him?”

Rachel laughs softly, and drains the rest of her drink.
 
She finally answers, “Dear Jack, your optimism is borderline naïve.
 
Can you not understand how the world works?”

“Maybe you know more than me, but from where I’m standing you’re giving up already.
 
I had you pegged for someone who would stand up and fight.”

“You’ve got me wrong then.”

“You’re barely out of college and you’re already throwing in the towel?”
 
Still standing, he puts his hands on his hips and asks, “What does the contract between the two of you state?
 
One kid and then you’re free to do what you want?
 
Two?”

“Don’t be crass.” She waves his challenge away.
 
“Anyway, before you launched into dramatics, I wanted to see if we could work out an arrangement of our own.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is a certain chemistry between us, right?”

“Where are you going with this, Rachel?”

“After a few years, maybe we can start something up…”

“Leave.”

“What?”

“I said ‘leave,’ as in get out of my hotel room this instant.”

“Why?”

“I’ll only tell you this once.
 
You deserve love.
 
Everyone does.
 
But you…”

“I what?”

“You need a man who will at least be your equal.
 
Karl Simpson is not that man.
 
He wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

“And I suppose you are that man?”

“I thought I could be, but given what you’ve told me tonight, I no longer think you are the person I thought you were.
 
Good luck with your life, Rachel.”

Her mouth open, she gathers her purse and walks out.
 
He thinks he sees her stubborn chin tremble as her Louboutins take her out of the suite and onto the plush carpeting of the hall.
 
As the door closes behind her, Jack asks, “What have I done?”

“I almost forgot what this room looked like,” comments Oscar as he takes his usual seat on the sofa.
 
“It has been awhile,” Nancy comments neutrally.
 
“I made progress, Doc, I promise.”
 
“Impress me.”
 
“I broke things off completely with that other chick.”
 
“That’s great.
 
Do expect any fall out?”