The Player, page 18
Joy, on the other hand, felt the losses acutely. Especially as she signed the papers as a witness. It just didn’t seem fair, and manufacturer’s defect or not, she still blamed herself for the fire.
Following a quiet dinner at a local, 1950s era dive called the Silver Diner, the four of them went back to Gray’s house. They’d just walked in the door when Libby called down the back stairs from her room.
“Joy, is that you?”
“Hi, Libby,” she answered. “It’s me. All of us, actually.”
There was a scamper of dog feet and then Ernest shot down the stairwell. He did a quick meet-and-greet of the assembled bipeds while his owner came into the kitchen. Libby was wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe and slippers and her white hair was matted on one side, as if she’d been reading in bed.
The woman smiled at Joy. “You just missed young Mr. Gray’s call. He said he was traveling, but that he might try you later.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
In the past week, Gray still phoned her as much as he had before, but now she saw his actions in a different light. Did he time the calls early in the morning and late at night not because he was busy, but because he was checking up on her? And did he ask her about her day because he was trying to ferret out whether or not she’d been dating someone?
He’d told her he didn’t care what she did up north, but she wasn’t sure she believed him.
Which made them equal, she supposed. Because he didn’t believe in her, either.
Frustration crept into her chest, making her lungs burn. The sensation was so familiar to her by now that she barely noticed it.
“So where have you all been?” Libby asked, as if they were children coming in from a night of fun. “You left before I got back from my brother’s.”
“We were getting married,” Frankie said. She flashed a simple gold band and a dazzling smile while her new husband nuzzled her neck.
“Why didn’t you say something!”
Libby rushed forward to embrace the couple and Ernest, ever ready for a group hug, planted his forepaws on Nate’s hip.
“With everything that’s been going on, we just wanted to keep it quiet,” Frankie said.
“Shall I get out the champagne?”
Frankie looked at Nate and smiled. “That would be great.”
The five of them split a bottle while sitting around the kitchen table. As Joy watched her sister and Nate, she felt as though her heart were going to break. She was reminded of when she’d seen them together in this very same room, on the night of Gray’s father’s birthday party. She’d been struck by the depth of their love and the shallowness of her own daydreams.
Now, the comparison between what they had and what was going on with Gray was even harder to bear.
Later, she went up to his bedroom, took a shower and slid between the sheets. She was lying on her stomach, one of his pillows tucked against her body, when the phone rang on the bedside table. Instinctively she reached for it, but then figured it was probably Gray’s private line as the phone out in the hall wasn’t ringing, as well.
She wondered who was on the other end and decided she’d rather not know. Ever since the conversation with Alex, she’d been thinking about what Gray was doing down in Washington. He’d said he didn’t care who she saw up north so it wasn’t unreasonable to wonder whether he was with other women down south.
And wasn’t that a great thought to try and fall asleep on.
After four rings, the phone fell silent.
* * *
GRAY FLIPPED HIS CELL phone shut and did not look at his watch. He knew damn well it was after midnight.
Joy was either not answering his phone. Or she still wasn’t home.
Why in the hell had he told her he didn’t care who she saw up north?
He cared. He cared deeply. He cared until he couldn’t think of anything but her. Until all he knew was that he missed her and he felt…well, something close to unclothed without her by his side.
Exhausted, Gray rubbed his eyes and wished he were not at yet another Washington party. Through the door he’d shut for privacy, the churning, relentless noise of people drinking and talking and laughing seeped into the parlor. John Beckin threw a mean shindig, he always had, but tonight Gray was not in the mood.
Putting off the inevitable, he wandered around, looking at the trinkets and the paintings and the photographs.
He kept hearing Joy’s voice in his head.
What’s it going to take for you to trust me?
I don’t need to trust you.
His response had been honest, but maybe all wrong. First of all, if it were true, he wouldn’t feel so wretched right now. And second, where did that leave her? Wouldn’t she need to feel that he had some faith in her?
What’s it going to take for you to trust me?
God, he feared that question, he really did. Because the more time he spent with her, the more attached he got and the harder it was to let go of his past. It was getting damn near impossible to put aside images of his father looking broken.
And he kept hearing the sounds of doors opening and closing as his mother’s lovers left.
Damn it, he knew Joy was not his mother. But he also knew that she’d just had her first lover. Sort of. And that she was entering the New York City arena after having been cloistered upstate all her life. She was a stunning beauty with a good heart. Didn’t she deserve to be free to explore?
Gray rubbed the center of his chest. Explore?
Oh, come on, Bennett. Like the dating scene in
Manhattan was a flipping National Geographic special?
Well, there were a lot of animals in the Big Apple.
Yeah, and if one of them so much as shook her hand, Gray was going to go commando. He wanted her as his own and no one else’s.
So where did that leave them?
The answer was easy. And shattering. He probably should just step up to the plate and tell her that he wanted them to be together. Exclusively. As in boyfriend and girlfriend, though the words seemed ridiculous considering they were both adults.
Except as he contemplated coming forward with that little proposal, all he felt was a cold void. The sensation reminded him of what had been bouncing around in his body when he’d almost blurted out that I love you the night of the fire.
He massaged his sternum again. Ah, hell, he was afraid.
But why?
Because maybe, just maybe, he thought, the root of the problem wasn’t in his past or her present. Maybe it had nothing to do with time. It was entirely possible that he was just a coward who didn’t want to get his heart broken.
Gray winced.
Damn, no wonder he tried to avoid thinking about his feelings. Self-actualization was about as much fun as getting a thigh bone set.
The thoughts about boyfriends and girlfriends made Gray pause by a black-and-white photograph of a group of college kids. A young John Beckin, his deceased wife, Mary, and what must have been their cronies, were sitting in football bleachers wearing Yale sweatshirts.
God, Becks seemed so young, but his intensity was already shining through. In the picture, he was looking over his shoulder. Staring, actually. With total absorption.
Gray frowned and bent down closer to the frame. Good Lord. Allison and Roger Adams were behind Becks.
And Allison was the one Becks was staring at.
Gray picked up the picture.
The woman didn’t seem to be aware of the attention. She was looking at her future husband, laughing at something Roger had said, totally oblivious to the young man in front who was regarding her with…love.
A terrible feeling came over Gray, the same kind of nasty ache he’d had when his mother had used him.
“There you are,” came a voice from across the room.
Gray turned, photograph still in hand. Becks was smiling as he walked into the parlor.
“We were worried you’d left, Bennett.”
“You want her still,” Gray said softly.
Becks seemed confused. “I’m sorry?”
“Allison Adams. You wanted her then.” He turned the frame around. “You want her still. That’s why you asked me to dig into the affair. You wanted to make sure she knew about the adultery and were betting that I’d force her husband to tell her or I’d go to her myself with what I found out. It had nothing to do with the leaks or the reporter or the Senate, did it?”
Becks looked down once before lying. “Don’t be absurd, Gray.”
“You know I’m tight with her. That I respect her. That I wouldn’t feel right about keeping that kind of thing a secret.” Gray shook his head and put the picture back. “You played me very well, Becks. Very, very well.”
Becks’s eyes were shrewd as he seemed to be assessing whether to keep lying or not. “Did you go to him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did he say? Did he admit to it?”
“I’m not going to go into that with you. But he did assure me the leaks weren’t from him, and I believe Roger.” Partially on account of the fact that the senator had been crying at the time, but mostly because having an affair with a reporter was dangerous enough. Sharing secrets with a journalist you were laying was guaranteed career suicide and Roger Adams was smart enough to know that.
“She married the wrong man, Gray.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“At least I never would have screwed around on her.”
Gray shook his head, feeling himself go completely numb. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take off.”
Becks reached out. “Gray, he cheated on her in college. He doesn’t deserve her. He never did.”
“And you do? You set me up to do your dirty work. I don’t find a lot of integrity in that, but maybe I’m missing something.”
Gray strode across the room.
Becks’s voice was hard when he spoke. “We’re not going to have any trouble between us, are we? Because that would be most unfortunate. I would hate to see you cut out of the profession you love so much.”
Gray glanced over his shoulder.
The first rule of war was simple, he thought. When attacked, strike back mortally. A half-dead opponent is still perfectly capable of taking you out.
He turned around and pegged the other man with a flat stare.
“Do you really want to go there, Becks? Because I have enough information on you to sink you like a stone and I’m not at all sentimental. Just because you clerked for my father a million years ago doesn’t mean I won’t slaughter you where you stand.” He took out his cell phone, casually tossing it up into the air and catching it. Over and over again. “To keep my job, I don’t need thousands of voters to think I’m a nice, trustworthy guy, but you sure as hell do. Iran-Contra. The Senate check-writing scandal. Working the back channels on budget discussions. I know every dirty deed you’ve ever done and you want to know what should scare you even more? I have a file on you. Stuffed up good and thick with documents you’ve signed, memos you’ve written, pictures, too. One call to a newspaper and a couple of faxes and I can shatter that image you’ve spent a lifetime building. Oh, and did I mention, I have the Washington Post on speed dial? New York Times, too.”
Becks went dead still, his pallor changing to a pearly gray. But he rallied soon enough, that famous engaging smile coming out. “Listen to us, we’re not enemies. What are we carrying on about? I’m sorry that I put you in such a terrible position.”
“So am I. But we’re past apologies, Beckin. You’ve pissed me off so badly, I just might make those calls anyway. Someone with your standards shouldn’t be at the head of the Senate and I suddenly despise myself for letting your conniving ass sully that seat for so long.”
He opened the door and marched out of the room.
“Gray!”
With Becks on his heels, Gray strode out of the town house, signaled for his car and walked into the street. He was physically ill. Sick with himself. With Beckin. With Washington.
“Gray!” Becks grabbed his arm. “I can’t let you go like this. We need to—”
“Think about retiring, Beckin, and do it soon. It’ll be better than getting thrown out in the street by your peers.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You know my reputation. I don’t aim unless I’m prepared to pull the trigger. Do yourself a favor and retire.” He got into the limousine and told the driver to hit the gas.
“We going back to your place, boss?” his driver asked.
“No. Take me by the White House.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Two blocks before 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the Lincoln Town Car slowed at a stoplight.
“We going in the side entrance?” the chauffeur asked.
“No, just drive by it.”
“Okay.”
Up ahead, Gray could see the spotlit black iron fence and the green stretch of lawn. And then the White House rose like a beacon.
“Slow down,” he said. “Actually, stop.”
The driver brought the Lincoln to a halt.
Gray opened the door, stepped out and leaned back against the car. He stared at the building, remembering the first time he’d seen it. He’d been five years old and utterly convinced that something magical was happening inside.
There was still magic going on, he supposed. He just couldn’t see it anymore. His intimate knowledge of Capitol Hill clouded his vision too much.
* * *
JOY FROZE IN THE PROCESS of packing her suitcase. The phone was ringing out in the hall. She held her breath, hoping that Libby’s voice would carry up the stairs and tell her Gray was on the phone.
She’d missed each time he’d called in the last two days. Twice because she was helping clean up at White Caps. Once when she was having dinner with Frankie and Nate. And the last because she’d gone for a long walk to clear her mind.
She was due in New York this afternoon and wanted to see if he was going to be in town. After having done some research on hotels in Manhattan, the idea of saving hundreds of dollars by taking advantage of his hospitality was attractive. But she wanted to confirm that he’d be in Washington before she made her decision. Staying in close quarters with him seemed like torture.
She waited to hear Libby call out. There was nothing.
She closed her eyes and then resumed packing.
“Joy! It’s Gray for you.”
She walked quickly to the hall phone. “Gray?”
“Hi.”
“I’m coming to town.”
“When?” His voice was distant, but it could have just been because he was on his cell phone.
“Today. This afternoon.”
“Well, my offer still stands. I’m in Washington, but you’re welcome to stay at the suite.”
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I appreciate it. God, everything in New York is so expensive.”
“And don’t be shy about ordering room service. Just put everything on my bill.”
Yeah, not bloody likely. She wasn’t about to mooch off him for food. “That’s generous, but I can pay for my own meals.”
“I’m busy down here, but I’ll try to get away.”
“Don’t worry if you can’t. I understand. So the elections are getting close, aren’t they?”
“Yes. Listen, everything’s set for your party.”
Good Lord, how could she have forgotten about that? It was…five days away. At the end of this week.
“Joy? You still there?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.”
“My assistant in New York will leave details at the suite for you and you’ll be happy to know that Cassandra can’t stand not being a part of it so she’s cutting her vacation short to get back. I took the liberty of drafting some talking points for you. My assistant will get them to you. And you should wear something of your own design, something bright. You need to stand out in the crowd so people can find you. Also, I’ve had a trunk line installed in my office in the city. My assistant will handle any calls for you there and business cards have been printed with the number on it.”
A chill went through her. “You have everything arranged, don’t you?”
“I know how important this is going to be for your career.” There was a pause and then she heard a commotion in the background, as if people were arguing. “Sorry, I’ve got to run. Take care, Joy, and have a safe trip.”
The phone went dead.
She hung up the receiver and thought about what his friend the investment banker had said. That Gray was a makeup artist. That he turned people into whoever they had to be to get elected.
Looks as if she was just one more quick fix in a long line of them.
When she resumed packing, her hands were shaky. She told herself she was getting just what she wanted. A free place to stay in New York. A party to help launch her career. Him in Washington.
It was all good.
Except she did want to see him. Even if it was stupid. Even if they were going nowhere.
She thought back to that one night they’d spent together. Of that one moment when they’d been joined. Heat pooled in her belly.
Her heart wanted him. So did her body. Her mind was the only holdout, the only part of her that was making any sense.
So thank God for higher reasoning.
Chapter Fifteen
NEW YORK CITY IN THE RAIN was a nightmare, Joy thought as she slipped the card into the suite’s lock. When the little green light flashed and she heard a metallic shift, she turned the brass handle.
The moment she was inside, she stepped out of her high heels and curled her damp, chilly feet into the thick carpet. She didn’t turn on any lights. Anxious, irritated and wired, she needed to avoid stimulation as much as she could. Calming herself down so she’d be able to fall asleep was going to take some doing.
Picking up her shoes, she walked into her bedroom using the city’s glow to find her way around. She peeled off her drenched raincoat and had to hang it up in the shower it was so soaked.
The weather had been gruesome and enduring, a cold, wet and windy rush since the moment she’d left the Waldorf that morning. And courtesy of the storm, she had yet another thing to add to her collection of New York City knowledge: getting a taxi in Manhattan when it was cold, wet and windy was like winning the lottery. She figured it would be sometime next summer before she thawed out.
