Vital Sign (22 page)

I’m
less than
the other women in this room. They’re far more glamorous and worldly
but
…I feel like the most gorgeous woman in the room.
He
makes me feel like the most gorgeous woman. Wearing Zander’s adoration as my only true garment makes me feel so much more secure about myself. It’s not a piece of fabric that I can slip in and out of. It didn’t come from some high end designer boutique. It didn’t cost me much and yet it has proven to be invaluable. Zander named his price without even knowing it and all it required from me was the courage to take a small step forward out of the little cave I call grief and guilt. I’ve called that cave my home for two years and the hopeful part of me wants out. Zander has been the best choice I’ve made in recent history, which isn’t saying much, but it is saying
something
. It says that I’m willing to invest in Alexander McBride. It says that without even really trying, he has drawn me out of a sad, lonely place. I’m eternally indebted. I have a long road ahead of me, but Zander gives me something to hope for.

My ardent prayer, my silent mantra, my budding sense of hope?

Zander is it.

The security at the venue is tight. Men in suits with earpieces are scattered throughout
the hordes of formally-dressed Atlanta high society. People mill about in every direction and congregate in small groups to chat. The women gather in little cliques of no more than three or so, but the men are in groups of four, five, or six, some more than that. They all clap each other on the back and shake hands vigorously with wide smiles, but they all have agendas. Every single one of them.

I’ve been in this massive ballroom for less than ten minutes and I can see it as plain as
ever. Eyes scan, whispers are bartered, and tight nods are exchanged between foes while the socialites buzz from group to group, seeking to gain a little measure of social and political relevance.

It’s fucking miserable.

Zander’s hand hasn’t left my back since we arrived in the Lincoln, which was driven by the same beefy driver from this morning.

A waiter strolls through the crowd
, handing out flutes of champagne as he goes. I snag one from his tray and take a generous gulp. My nerves are raw and the urge to escape somewhere for a cigarette is threatening to overwhelm me. I focus on staying balanced and graceful in Anthony’s masterpiece. The chandelier earrings sway to and fro with every cautious step I take at Zander’s side.

“Zander
! Zander!” someone calls out. We both turn in the direction of the voice from the crowd.

Travis sidles up next to Zander and
casually slips one hand into his pants pocket, the other holding a flute of champagne. He gives a curt smile and nod to a party guest before speaking.

“Your dad wants to see you two before he comes in.”

“Where is he?” Zander asks quietly.

“Follow me.”

Zander takes my hand and follows Travis, leading me through the throng of party guests. I toss back the contents of the champagne flute and set it on an empty dinner table. We exit the party through a door on the far wall, guarded by two more men with earpieces and a stance that screams “bodyguard.” Travis downs his champagne too and hands it off to a passing staff member of some sort. We take a left and walk down a short hall to enter a sitting room filled with the low buzz of just a few people talking amongst themselves. All eyes turn in our direction as soon as we join them and I feel a little lightheaded. The catalyst to my dizziness is either the champagne that I gulped down in a hurry or the anxiety that just kicked into high gear.

Travis leads
us to Governor McBride,
the
Governor McBride, Zander’s father, who is sitting comfortably in an armchair, a cigar clenched in his teeth and a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand.

“Thank you, Travis,” Governor McBride says without looking.

Travis walks away and joins a conversation on the other side of the sitting room.

“Alexander
!” Governor McBride stands to greet Zander, his hand shoved forward for Zander to shake. I can feel him tense at my side. An uncomfortable pause passes before Zander shakes his father’s hand with obvious reluctance.

“Dad,” he greets him curtly.

Governor McBride’s eyes find mine and I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. My chest seizes and nerves spin out of control.

“And you
’re Mrs. Parker,” he announces, stepping closer toward me. His eyes survey my face as if he’s attempting to probe into my mind.

“Pleasure to meet you
, Governor,” I say, employing my best manners as I reach out to shake his hand.

“Likewise, Mrs. Parker.”

“Please, call me Sadie,” I insist.

The governor pats Zander’s shoulder.
“Your date is lovely, son.”

“Yes
, she is.”

“Well, I’ll be. Don’t you just polish right up,” Virginia McBride drawls
, edging up beside Zander’s dad from some other group in the room.

Zander’s jaw tenses. His hand squeezes mine. His nerves are already shot like mine are. For the first time since I met him earlier in the day, I
’m happy to see Travis joining us.

“Governor, they’re ready for you,” he informs us.

I watch as Virginia hooks her arm through her husband’s. He hands the cigar and now empty tumbler to Travis.

“We
’ll talk later, Miss Sadie.” He nods and heads for the exit with his Ice Queen at his side.

“Wow,” I breathe.

“Let’s get this shit over with so I can get us back to Tybee soon rather than later,” Zander whispers in my ear.

“That’s a fine idea.
We don’t exactly fit in here, do we?”

“Not even close
,” he mumbles. “I hate this shit. I’m a black sheep.”

“Well
, you’re my black sheep,” I say, softly brushing my thumb over the little white scar on his cheekbone, doing my best to comfort my black sheep who has grown up surrounded by a pack of wolves.

Zander leans in and drops a barely ther
e kiss on my lips. “Yes I am, Slim.”

***

The crowd of mostly Republicans claps exuberantly as Governor McBride wraps up his speech about the importance of being vigilant and determined as a party. Honestly, if you’ve endured one political speech, you’ve endured them all. I tuned out about half of the shit he was saying up on his podium at the front of the ballroom. Zander’s Ice Queen mother watched on adoringly with a practiced smile and fine-tuned mannerisms. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, her hands pleasantly folded in her lap. She switched them both once during the speech then switched them back again. She nodded just slightly at certain parts, but her robotic expression was unwavering throughout the entire twenty minute speech. Zander sat back with practiced detachment for the entire thing.

The more I see of Zander’s parents
, the more grateful I am for mine. Growing up was easy for me—effortless and carefree. I’m all but positive that it wasn’t even close to the same for Zander.

The crowd begins to disperse a little
as music from the band begins to play. People linger near Governor McBride to shake his hand. Virginia stays at his side like a well-trained monkey.

A voice comes over the speaker system asking that everyone find their seats so that dinner can be served. I snag another glass of champagne like a seasoned veteran and pour the crisp liquid into my mouth.

“Be careful with that stuff. It’ll sneak up on you,” an icy voice similar to Virginia’s says from behind Zander and me.

I turn to face a beautiful woman with bright blonde hair and big blue eyes. Her eyes survey me from head to toe and I do the same.

“Ally,” Zander says with ice of his own shadowing his usually warm voice.

“Allison Forsythe. You can call me Ally if you’d like
, though. That’s what Zander has always called me.” She bats her false lashes at Zander and I feel jealously rise up in me.

“Sadie Parker,” I say
, shaking her limp, clammy hand.

Zander pulls me closer to him and it’s a nice reminder for her
and
me that I’m his date. Not her. His physical encouragement calms my nerves enough for me to down the rest of my champagne and hand it off to another passing waiter.

“You can call me Sadie Parker,” I add my smartass remark on autopilot.

“Hmm.” She gives me a tight smile that isn’t very attractive at all and tilts her head to the side. I see her catty motives in her baby blue eyes.

What a bitch
.

“Well, I’ve got to run along,” she drawls. “See you again soon, Sadie Parker
.” She flicks her wrist, waving goodbye.

I turn to Zander and smile
, feeling a little buzzed thanks to two glasses of high dollar champagne. “Did I mention that I hated high school?”

Zander laughs under his breath and shakes his head at me. “You must have been an art nerd
, so I bet you didn’t.”

“I was a cool art nerd.”

Zander’s chest shakes with laughter. “I’m sure you were, baby.” He leans in and kisses me on the lips without regard for the eyes that are most certainly watching. I can feel them—who knows how many—but I don’t care and neither does Zander, by the looks of it. He kisses me deeply for everyone to see, including Allison Forsythe.

“Hate to interrupt you
, lover boy, but your dad wants to see you again. Just you,” Travis the errand boy says to Zander, pointing to where Governor McBride is across the room. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here with her.”

Zander looks at me warily.

“Go ahead,” I encourage him. “I’ll be right here. Say goodbye while you’re at it, huh?”

Zander nods
, seeing my point, and kisses me on the cheek before he heads in the direction of his dad.

I watch as Zander disappears into the crowd then look to Travis. “I have to pee. I’ll be
right back.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“I’m a big girl, Travis.”

“Okay then,” he says
, raising a brow.

I squeeze the clutch in my hand
, remembering my emergency cigarettes. “I’ll be right back,” I say again, walking off, unsure of where I can sneak away to smoke. The combination of alcohol, nerves, and stress has won out in my battle against smoking. I’ll sneak away to take a drag or two then sneak back just in time for Zander to load us into the Lincoln and take us back to the hotel. I don’t think either one of us can suffer through dinner here.

My heels click against the marble floor in the wide corridor just outside the ballroom. I look from left to right
, then follow the corridor a little further down until I spot a door with a small plaque attached to it that reads, “Service Exit. Staff Only.” I push the arm of the door and exit into the Atlanta night air. I take a deep breath, allowing my shoulders to sag forward unattractively. I have no time to waste, so I flick open the small clutch and fish out my occasional nasty habit.

The first two drags are always the best. My eyes roll back and I sigh
, relaxing a little more. I hide just around the corner from the service door and hurry to finish my cigarette.

Footsteps drawing nearer my hiding place pull me from
my brief moment of respite. I drop the cigarette to the cement and step on it. I can hear the distinct baritone voice that I know belongs to none other than my black sheep, Zander.

I hold my breath and press my b
ack flush against the cool brick wall, praying that I don’t make my presence known. What sounds like two sets of feet click against the cement walkway by the service door.

“And why exactly is she any of your business?” Zander probes without an ounce of patience in his voice.

“I’m your father and I’m simply protecting your interests, son,” Governor McBride explains, sounding flustered.

“You mean
your
interests!” Zander growls.

“Shush! Keep your voice down,” Governor McBride chastises.

“
Don’t stand here and pretend to give a shit about anything more than your campaigns, and fundraising, and social standing and your constituents’ views on how well you keep control over your personal life!” Zander bites out in a menacingly low voice through what I can tell are gritted teeth.

“Now you just stop right there, boy!”

“No, you stop. What you did was your choice and had I known then what was going on, I would’ve put a stop to it. You find your own fucking way to live with what you did just like I am.” The venom in his words makes it clear that he aims to offend the man he calls his father. I think this is the first time I’ve heard Zander so angry and bitter.

“You think I don’t just want what’s best for my son?”