Page 19 of Campaign Season
Jameson pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, now you want me to trip over my own tongue on national television?”
“Relax. Everyone will fawn over you. You’ll tell a couple of fishing jokes, maybe a self-deprecating line about mud and trout. America eats that stuff up.”
“Mm-hm. And you cleared this with Candace?”
There was a pause. “Would I send you without her okay?”
Jameson groaned. There was no way out.
“I didn’t exactly need to twist her arm,” Dana admitted. “She knows the value. This makes you relatable. Real. Which makes her relatable. Real. Besides, it’s good for a laugh.”
Jameson chuckled, though her annoyance hadn’t entirely faded. “At my expense. You are the master of this spin thing, Dana. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook.”
Dana laughed, knowing exactly what Jameson was doing. “Hook. Nice. Very on-brand.”
“Uh-huh. You’re just lucky I love you,” Jameson said. “Otherwise, I’d tell the world the whole mess was your fault and let you handle the fallout.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
There was a beat of silence, then Dana’s voice lost some of its professional edge. “You know she only agreed because of you.”
Jameson blinked. “Because of me?”
“Yeah. You makeherlaugh, JD. And after the last few months…” Dana trailed off, her voice softening. “She needs more of that. We all do. So don’t think of it as a stunt. Think of it as giving people a little glimpse of the woman I’ve known since college—the one who can’t stay upright on a riverbank to save her life.”
Jameson sighed. “You’re not playing fair.”
“Never have. Never will.”
“Fine. But if I end up in a meme wearing waders and a black eye, I’m blaming you.”
Dana chuckled. “Deal. Now please tell me you have something to wear on that plane that doesn’t smell like fish.”
“They wouldn’t let me on until I showered.”
Dana snorted.
“Good. Let Amy help you get camera ready.”
“Bossy,” Jameson muttered.
“Best friend,” Dana corrected warmly.
Jameson smiled, shaking her head. “God help me. I’m coming home tonight, Dana. No moreappearances.”
“I promise.”
Jameson disconnected the call and looked at Amy. “The things I do, Amy… the things they get me to do.”
Jameson let out a sigh as the motorcade passed through the gate. It had been a long day that had stretched into the late hours of the night. She still wasn’t sure how Dana had managed to arrange a schedule change so quickly; no doubt Candace had played a role, and maybe Alex as well. Alex had connections. The whirlwind of makeup artists, studio lights, and rapid-fire questions already felt surreal. She had managed to get through it without stumbling or swearing, and that felt like a small victory.
She pushed open the door to the residence, grateful to kick off her shoes. Laughter drifted from the family room, loud and overlapping.
When she stepped in, every face turned toward her: Candace curled up on the sofa with Cooper leaning against her side, Michelle perched on the armrest beside Pearl, Cassidy and Dana sharing a bowl of popcorn. Even Alex was there, arms folded, wearing the look of someone pretending she hadn’t been laughing just a moment ago.
“Well,” Jameson said dryly, “this looks suspicious.”
