He’s a cipher. I won’t get more out of him. Time to cut off the chit chat.
“Blaine and whoever’s behind him are using Lindsay against you. Always have.”
An imperceptible shiver runs through him. “You mean they’re using her reputation against me.”
I almost say it.
Almost.
“No, Harry.” I drop my voice. “They’re using her. You know what happened with the brake lines. They’re trying to paint her as a crazy. It’s all a lie. But once they do that, they’ll try to taint you by association. We need to cut this off now. The fish rots from the head.”
“I know you’re not referring to me.”
“Of course not. I’m talking about whoever is pulling Blaine Maisri’s puppet strings. Whoever’s been pulling them for four years. It can’t have escaped your attention that Blaine’s rise has been meteoric. He’s my age and he’s a state senator. He’s barely old enough to even be a U.S. Representative, constitutionally.”
Tap tap tap.
It’s Marshall, one of the PR handlers for Lindsay that Harry hired last week. Last week.
She’s been home barely a week.
He doesn’t make eye contact with me.
My hackles go up.
“Senator? A word?”
Harry frowns at me, then turns, giving Marshall his full attention. The guy’s eyes dart to me, then down to a newspaper in his hand.
I can’t see the picture on it, but I immediately know it’s bad. Whatever’s on that cover, a shitstorm’s about to be unleashed.
Harry pivots and tosses the newspaper on the table between us.
I’m on the cover.
I am the shitstorm.
My sharp inhale feels like someone’s shoved an icicle down my throat.
He’s going to ask me to explain. Explain why that photo shows me punching Blaine. Explain why that photo captures the moment I unleashed on the guy.
And explain why it’s clear I was aiming for him.
No other man is in the frame.
I compose my thoughts even as they race at breakneck speed.
And then he beats me to it.
“You’re fired.”
Chapter 12
I nod, blinking, like this is unexpected.
It’s not.
“You understand, of course,” he says in a tone that makes it clear I’d damn well better not argue. “We can still spin this so we save Lindsay’s reputation. The ‘attacker’ slipped out a second before. You were shoved by the perpetrator and off-balance. Whatever we say, the focus will be on Lindsay. Not you. I won’t have my daughter’s barely salvageable reputation affected in any way by you, Drew. Not any more.”
“I’ll take myself off the case.” My mouth is numb. I am speaking through nine layers of glue.
“No.”
I look at him. He’s imposing as fuck, but I’m strangely detached. Not intimidated a bit. This is about reality and facts. I moved from the asset to the liability column with one newspaper photo. I get it. I do.
“You’re fired. Officially. We’re about to make a very public announcement declaring as much. I’m sure you understand it’s nothing personal. This is about damage control. Read the headline.”
I look down.
Deranged Ex-boyfriend Stalks Presidential Candidate’s Daughter.
“Those assholes.”
“They may be assholes, but they outsmarted you, Drew. I can’t have them contaminate Lindsay. Thank God, nothing in that article implicates her, but -- ”
Contaminate?
“Don’t you see what they’re doing, Harry? Are you kidding me? They’re isolating you. Making you fire me. You’re handing them exactly what they want!”
“I don’t care about their agenda. Only my own. And you know I have to do this.”
“Keep Gentian. He’s my best guy. And if you’re going to hire someone -- ”
“I’ve already called Mark Paulson. Left a message.”
A tiny tendril of hope shoots through me.
“Good. Mark’s great.”
“Stay away from him. I don’t want anyone to know you two are associated.”
“He works for me.”
“Not any more. He’s spinning off his own company as we speak. On the record – he’s officially disgusted and shocked by your behavior.”
I grind my teeth. Damn it.
“He’s James Thornberg’s grandson. That legacy will rub off on him. Give him legitimacy. Might even help me with polling. A loose mental association between Thornberg and me could help with this mess.”
This mess.
I am this mess.
“And Lindsay?”
“What about her?”
“You know how hard this is for her, Harry. I’ve been able to help her with -- ”
“You mean how you’re helping her in her bedroom?”
If he said anything else – anything else – about Lindsay, I wouldn’t look away. But even I can’t maintain eye contact with the father of the woman I’m sleeping with as he calls me out for it.
I have limits, too.
“Damn it, Drew. Every worst-case scenario is coming true. Marshall warned me this was a possibility.”
I jolt. “Marshall?” Marshall won’t make eye contact, but he’s also not cowering. The guy won’t even look at me.