Page 55 of The Press Secretary's Passion
So I grabbed my purse from my office and locked up for the evening. I kept my head held high and my chin up and dared anyone with my eyes to stare at me as I moved through the offices and hallways. I have done nothing wrong, and I refuse to behave like I have something to be sorry for, because I absolutely do not.
I made my way back through security and out to the staff parking lot, where I climbed in my car and headed toward home. I drove through the Taco Bell drive-thru near my house and ordered the giant two chalupas and a taco meal, because if there was ever a day that one could indulge in junk food, it’s a day like today.
Now, I pull into the garage, not wanting to deal with all of the news vans camped on my front lawn, but at the same time knowing I will have to eventually. I turn the car off, grab my purse and my takeout bag, and shut the garage door before locking the door and walking in the house.
I kick off my heels and set my purse and takeout bag on the kitchen island, when my cell phone rings.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Honey, are you all right?” Grace asks.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “Really.”
“You know we can be on a yacht in the Greek Sea by two tomorrow,” she says with a smile in her voice.
“I’ve already been the cause of a national incident,” I droll. “I will not be the cause of an international one too.”
“Party pooper.” She laughs. “But seriously. If you need me, I’m there.”
“I know,” I tell her. “But really. I’ll be all right.”
“Taco Bell?” she asks.
“And Tequila.”
“Got it. Go conquer the world,” she says and then hangs up.
I head upstairs and slip out of my clothes and put on a pair of men’s style sweatpants that have baggy legs that gather at the ankles and a tank top. I pull wool socks on my feet and make my way back downstairs.
I eat a chalupa while standing at the kitchen counter and look around the room. How could he be getting in? But I get distracted by the blinking red light on my answering machine. I know it’s old-fashioned and not many people have landlines and answering machines anymore, but I do. I like the feeling of being connected.
I wad up my wrapper and reach for another as I hit the Play button on my machine and instantly regret it when the hateful tone of my mother’s voice fills the room.
“How could you do this to us?”she screeches.“We are so embarrassed by you. No, we’re not embarrassed; we’re humiliated!”
I take a bite of my second chalupa while she continues her tirade over my lack of decorum and class. I shrug. It is what it is. It would have been nice to have a family who rallies around me when I need them during a crisis like this, but again, it is what it is. You can’t miss what you never had.
“You’re just lucky Jefferson is willing to look past this,”she says.“He’s still willing to have you and goddammit, you listen and you listen well. You will do the right thing for this family or there will be consequences.”
I snort. There’s literally nothing she can do to me. She has nothing to hold over my head anymore. I’m thirty-five years old and have a fantastic career and plenty of savings.Sheshould worry aboutme. I could easily write a tell-all. Although I would never do that to my brother, Gil, no matter how mad I am at him right now.
Another message clicks over, and Gil’s concerned voice fills the room. I guess speak of the devil. Say his name and he shall appear on your answering machine.
“Jules, what’s going on?”he asks.“I’m worried about you. Give me a call.”
I sigh. I’ll give him a call when I’m ready, but for tonight, I just want to hunker down and lick my wounds. And with that thought, I drop my half eaten chalupa on the counter. I’m no longer hungry. I fill a glass with water from the kitchen tap and chug it down before placing the glass in the sink. I’ll deal with this mess later.
I make my way into the living room, pull my lilac throw from the back of the sofa, and wrap it around me. I lie down on my side across the sofa with my back against the cushions. A shuddered breath forces its way out of my chest, and then the first tear rolls down my cheek. Then another and another.
It’s dark by the time I’ve had a good cry, and the room is filled with shadows, since I didn’t turn on any lights in this room, but I don’t care. I just want to be alone with my thoughts. I can’t conquer the world until I conquer what’s inside my brain first. But my dark thoughts are interrupted by my sexy nighttime intruder, reminding me that I forgot all about my quest to figure out how he gets in night after night.
“Babe, this shit on your counter will kill you,” he says from the doorway that connects the two rooms. I jump up from the sofa. I’m sure my eyes are wild, and I know my heart is racing.
“W-w-what are you doing here?” I stammer as I clutch my blanket around me like a cloak.
He stares at me for a beat before answering. “I told you that I would be here.”
“Oh… that’s right,” I mumble. “How do you get in?”
