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I walk over to Mom and stick out my hand. “Hi! I’m Lindsay Bosworth. And you are?”
Mom’s fury flickers in the twitch of her nostril for three tenths of a second, and then she laughs, eyes glowing with manufactured amusement. “Ah, Lindsay. We’ve got our old girl back.”
That prickly feeling intensifies when Drew shifts his weight and gives me a look that says I need to be prepared for something that’s coming.
But I know what’s coming.
Daddy’s running for senate again. Duh. This isn’t some big surprise.
We all stop laughing from my stupid joke and Daddy introduces me to Marcy Boorstein and Victoria Ahlmann, both part of Marshall’s “team” assigned to me. Three handlers for reputation management? Huh.
Four years ago I had zero.
We all take our seats at the massive conference table, Daddy at the head, Anya to his right, Mom across from him. Daddy clears his throat and gives Anya a look that is just close enough to being nervous that my heart stops.
Drew gives me a sharp look that makes my stomach drop.
What the hell is this meeting about?
Daddy doesn’t do nervous.
“Lindsay, as you know, I’ve spent the last ten years in office, representing the state of California in the senate.”
I frown. Daddy sounds like he’s giving a press conference to me.
“And I’ve been very satisfied in this role, but it’s time for a change.”
I go cold and hold my breath. I wasn’t expecting this.
“You’re not running for senate again?” Relief floods me, filling my veins with heat. Oh, sweetness. I won’t be in the spotlight. I can come home and pick up the pieces of my ruined life without being under a microscope.
“No.”
I just nod, trying not to show any emotion.
He has two more years in the senate and I know as soon as the press knows I’m home, I’ll have to deal with publicity, but this is such good news. I open my mouth to say whatever everyone expects me to say, but Mom cuts me off with a hand across the table, her chilled palm covering the back of my hand.
This morning, she is wearing her eyelashes. Full makeup, no product spared. Mom looks ten years younger than her natural age if you don’t get too close. Right now, though, I see every crease and crevice, every makeup line.
“Honey,” she says, breathy with excitement. “Your father is about to declare his campaign for President of the United States.”
I fall off the edge of the world.
You think the world is round, but it turns out to be covered with unexpected cliffs, sheer drop-offs that appear at the worst possible times, making you fall into outer space, gravity long gone as you scream into a vacuum.
And no one can hear you.
“Huh?” I say, the sound like you make when someone gut punches you. Drew’s eyes meet mine, and his eyebrows crease with compassion, his expression saying one thing:
I tried to warn you.
“President,” Daddy says, one half of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “I’ve spent the better part of the last year fundraising, gathering behind-the-scenes support and testing my ideas with various voter sample groups. With the right coalition, good funds, and no major scandals, I’ve got a strong chance.”
Mom’s facade cracks for a split second as Daddy says the word scandal, her eyes floating to look at me.
Oh, no.
I suddenly understand why Marshall, Marcy and Victoria are here.
