Off the Record

Chapter 10 STAYING PROFESSIONAL

Liz sat with her friend Justin in the sound booth at the Great Hall auditorium, which the Maxwell campaign had been granted for their event. It was a large room built for five hundred, with a raised stage and podium. The Great Hall was a hot spot on campus, with a constant influx of student groups for theater productions, dance performances, a cappella shows, and the like.

Today it was covered in the red-white-and-blue signs the campaign had decorated it with, and each chair had a sign that had the Maxwell logo in the center—VOTE FOR MAXWELL in a circle with the words bolded. VOTE FOR was written like an American flag in red stars and stripes on the blue background, with MAXWELL in a stark, blocky white font. A globe focused on North America was at the center, reaffirming Liz’s belief that Brady wanted to take over. The logo was a power symbol, and now it would be all over campus.

Students and faculty alike were filing into the room, taking the signs from the seats and sitting down. It was the summer session, but after Liz’s articles and the work she had done building up to this, the room was pretty full. She wasn’t sure why she had put so much effort into it, but she wanted the event to be successful.

Part of her wanted to say that it was only for the paper and her career. If more people came to these events and showed an interest, then her column would improve and she might be able to hit the front cover more often. At least overshadow another drunken debauchery scene on Franklin Street for once.

But the rest of her knew it was because of Brady. He was clouding her judgment. That was bad journalism. She wasn’t supposed to get attached to the people she was writing about.

Objective. Neutral. Unbiased. Those were the words that came to mind when she thought of journalism. That was what her professor wanted her to strive for. Now all she was thinking in the midst of writing was Brady.

Brady. Brady. Brady.

He was about to get on that stage and talk about education policy, no doubt. This was the audience for that kind of discussion. If she were up there, that was what she would talk about. The very thought made her blood boil for so many reasons. She wasn’t sure which one was the primary reason now.

Was she infuriated because he was actually going to try to discuss education with a sea of students whom she had informed his policies were garbage? Or was she heated because it would be the first time she’d seen his handsome face since leaving his hotel room nearly two weeks ago?

“So, you want me to record the whole thing?” Justin asked, squaring away his camera focused on the podium.

“Yeah. That would be great. We don’t have the normal crew for the paper, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t have to deal with video as well,” she told him.

“No problem here. I’ll be running sound and this thing will be running itself, thanks to my new tripod,” he said, tapping his finger on the camera.

“Thanks, Justin,” Liz said with a big smile. “Really appreciate it.”

“Are you going to be in the booth?” Justin asked.

“Nah,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I’m going to try to get a closer look. I reserved a front-row seat, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to sit still.”

“First shindig all on your own, huh?” He fiddled with the sound equipment.

“Yeah. First campaign-related appearance on campus this season too,” she told him. She wiped her palms on her high-waisted black skirt. She had paired it with a tucked-in V-cut Carolina-blue blouse that was loose and flowy, with little gold buttons up the front. Her nude suede heels finished off the outfit. She had chosen it all carefully and felt a little silly. She normally dressed nicely to begin with, but this had something…everything to do with Brady.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve done shit like this before. Their crew tries to take over anyway. You probably won’t have to do much,” Justin told her.

“True.” She tried not to think about it all. She stood as her nerves took over. “Hey, will you be able to splice this for me later? I want to get some of it up on the website as soon as possible.”

“No way. Not tonight.”

“Oh come on, what are you doing?” she asked, leaning her hip into the counter.

Justin shrugged noncommittally. “Stuff.”

“Do you want me to pay you, is that it?” she grumbled. They had paper resources, but she wasn’t in control of much. Normally she would have to get expenses approved through Hayden, but since he wasn’t here…

“I might find some free time,” he admitted.

“Fine, whatever,” Liz said, turning to leave. “So difficult.”

“See ya around, Liz,” he said, chuckling.

“Bye, Justin.”

Stupid AV abilities.

Liz walked out of the sound booth, frustrated with Justin. She had met him in her intro journalism class freshman year. He didn’t really have any interest in writing and had made that blatantly obvious. The professor hadn’t taken his shit, though, and forced him to complete all the assignments as written. Though she had allowed him some extra credit with his excellent videos.

Liz had forged a friendship with Justin from the beginning. He was also on scholarship, living in her dorm, and seemed to always be around. He refused to work for the paper or the UNC news channel, even though it was obvious that they could use his skills. He preferred to be freelance. They hung out sometimes with mutual friends, and he could be funny when he wanted.

Her heels clicked against the hard wood floor as she circled the room. She recognized some familiar faces in the crowd, but not that many. A group of girls waved at her as she walked by. She smiled tentatively and waved back, not used to people recognizing her. She walked purposefully to the front of the room and took her seat in the front row.

She felt a bit naked without her voice recorder, but she didn’t really need it, since Justin was videoing for her. She pulled a small legal notepad out of her bag and flipped to the event page she had mocked up. She had a few questions that made the list. Some of them were from the Raleigh event and some of them were new. Heather Ferrington had said that she wasn’t going to get to ask any questions until the close of the event, and Liz wanted to be prepared.

Her stomach flipped just as it did every time she thought about getting an interview with Brady after the event. Could she get that close to him again?

Liz pushed down the thoughts she had been harboring for the past two weeks. She was a professional…despite her actions. If her editor wanted her to get an interview, then she could do it. It didn’t matter if it was Brady Maxwell or the President of the United States. This was her job, and she was going to take it seriously. She couldn’t let her sexual attraction to the man mess up her career.

The buzz in the room died down as Heather Ferrington walked onto the stage. She was everything Liz remembered her to be—unbelievably gorgeous, with long blond hair, a tall, slim build, and a fresh gray skirt suit. She could have been a model, and Liz wondered what had made her become a press secretary instead. Did she see that Brady was going somewhere and jump onboard as soon as she could? Had she done more to get to this position?

Thinking about whether or not Brady had slept with his attractive press secretary wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was only going to make her jealous.

“Hello, Chapel Hill! Thank you so much for coming out today!” Heather said brightly. It was a completely different façade than Liz had seen from her before. With press she had been biting and strong; on the phone she had been condescending and demanding; now she was über-cheerful.

Don’t underestimate her.

“My name is Heather Ferrington and I am Senator Maxwell’s press secretary. Senator Maxwell is thrilled to be back at his alma mater today. Only a few years ago he was sitting in the same classrooms and attending the same events as you. He was playing basketball for your beloved team, and loving every minute of it. He cherishes every memory from his hometown, and appreciates you inviting him to come speak today.”

Ha! Invited! Liz laughed to herself. Hadn’t Heather called only a week ago and explained that they were planning Chapel Hill as an extra stop for the Senator? Would the lies always be boundless?

“Before the Senator comes out to speak, I am pleased to introduce your fellow student Leslie Chester, president of Political Action NOW and cofounder of North Carolina Students for Progressive Action,” Heather said with a smile as she began the applause.

Liz sat up in her seat. She didn’t know they were going to have an introductory speaker.

It made sense that they would pick Leslie. Leslie was scary, with her intensity behind the things she believed in, and she badgered the paper relentlessly for more space for her pictures, articles, and ads. It was a constant battle. Liz wasn’t sure she knew anyone who actually liked her, but the girl sure as hell knew what she was doing.

Leslie Chester walked onstage in her modest two-inch heels. She was on the shorter side, with ashy brown hair and chipmunk cheeks. Liz suspected, like everyone else, that she would make a bid into politics one day, and she was dressed the part in a black pantsuit.

She stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow students, thank you for attending this momentous event on campus. As this is one of the very first campaign stops on Senator Maxwell’s tour, I personally feel honored to be able to introduce him this afternoon.”

Leslie went on to list off Brady’s achievements and his career thus far in politics. It was without a doubt a rehearsed speech that the campaign had given her prepackaged. Liz knew all the highlights from her research, but paid close attention regardless. She never knew when they might throw a curveball her way that someone else might have missed.

“Chapel Hill, help me welcome our own alumnus, Senator Brady Maxwell III.”

The crowd clapped, rising to its feet. Liz stood with them, her hands moving mechanically as she kept her eyes glued to the entrance.

There he was. He stepped one foot out onto the stage and then another. Liz swallowed. She had been staring at pictures of him for two weeks and could have sworn that she had every inch of him memorized. But now, with him on the stage, walking toward the podium, waving at the crowd, she realized that no memory could ever do him justice.

He had on another black suit with a solid blue button-down and red striped tie. The politician’s red-white-and-blue seemed to be his MO, and she found herself thinking about the time she had seen him out of those colors…out of those clothes. She was having a hard time bringing herself back to the present.

His hair was perfectly styled, and his smile was overwhelming. She could almost feel his deep brown eyes scanning the crowd for her. Or maybe that was what she wanted to think. They’d had no contact since that night, aside from the tip she had received from his press secretary about the event. Yet the feeling remained.

Then his eyes found her sitting off to the side in the front row. They locked gazes for a brief second, but it was long enough for her entire body to tingle with warmth. His smile grew wider as he turned back to the audience. She would pay more than a penny for his thoughts in that moment.

“Thank you, Leslie,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. She was staring up at him with a shock-and-awe expression that Liz was pretty sure she had never seen cross Leslie’s face.

God, this guy can charm anyone! she thought.

Leslie quickly exited the stage as Brady made himself comfortable in front of the podium. Then suddenly, like turning a switch, he was in campaign mode. She didn’t think she had ever noticed it before in the other speeches she had watched of his online. But with him so close she could see the difference. Likely no one else could, but he clearly had a campaign face of sorts, like an actor getting into character.

“Hello, Chapel Hill!” he said into the microphone. “It is so nice to be back in my hometown. How are y’all doing this afternoon?”

There was general applause among the audience. They were happy to be out of classes for the day and indulging in summer break. Most of them were interested in what he was going to say, but Liz was pretty sure that they would rather be at the pool working on their tans. She hated being so jaded about her classmates, but that had been her experience. And she wanted to change it, to educate and encourage her classmates to get involved. This was a good start.

“That’s great to hear. I was just over at Top O eating before this,” he said, talking about Top of the Hill, a local restaurant and bar. Brady paused as cheers rang through the crowd. “I swear the food gets better and better every time I go there. I can’t even tell you how many things I miss about Chapel Hill—Pit sitting, lazy days on the Quad, dribbling circles around my friends in Rams Head.”

Liz looked around to see the students nodding along. They all loved these things as well. He was appealing to their shared experiences. Clever.

“My four years at UNC were the best of my life, and I’m sure most of you feel the same way. You live and breathe the university as well as the community while you’re here and want to see as much done for it as possible, but you won’t always be here. Chris, my best friend growing up, followed me here to Chapel Hill. We were, of course, upstanding gentlemen as a part of the university.”

The crowd chuckled. Liz knew as well as anyone that any basketball player at UNC was not only treated like a god, but was as far from an upstanding gentleman as they came. Had Brady been one of those guys? With his looks and charm, Liz wasn’t sure he would have needed to rely on the fame. Then again, he didn’t need it now, but he was smart enough to use it to his advantage.

“Chris graduated from UNC with me, and instead of staying here, he took a job in New York City. Likely many of you will do the same. You’ll get the best education you possibly can from one of the best universities in the country, and then you’ll leave,” he told them frankly. Liz was curious where he was going, but she had her guesses. “You carry the weight of your university on your shoulders the rest of your life. Now, I know most of you are thinking about how great it is to have the UNC flagship stacked at the top of your résumé. Go ahead, admit it. I know you do.”

His captive audience laughed, some jabbing their friends in the rib cage and whispering to each other.

“Now, stack on student loan debt, a struggling economy, poor job growth, and a depleted basis for internships, externships, and real-world experience that is crucial to success outside of these four walls. How heavy does that weight feel now?” The room quieted entirely. “That’s what I’m here to address today: what I’m planning to do when I’m elected into office to offset these complications all students are facing pre- and post-education.”

Bam! Liz felt like jumping up and down. She had been entirely on point from the very start. She knew he was going to address education at this event. It was a topic that resonated, and it was a fluff topic, because he likely would never be a part of any substantive education policy. His father was a budget guy, and a prominent member of the Senate Budget Committee at that. No way was his son getting stuck in education policy.

Now all she had to do was wait for him to slip up. She knew his education policy inside and out. Plus, she had the benefit of knowing ahead of time where his reasoning was wrong.

Liz listened to his speech with one ear to the ground for any slipups. She assumed he wouldn’t talk about how his help in balancing the budget had cut funding for the university, but she paid close attention to make sure. Most of what he was saying was entirely symbolic, posturing and position taking on policy he would never be grilled on. It just happened to be policy she found the most important.

Near the end of his speech, Brady touched on exactly what she had been waiting for. “Some people are advocates for what they’re calling NC Pledge, which provides a free college education for students who graduate from a North Carolina high school as long as they maintain a certain GPA. Sounds great, right? But where is the money coming from to support new students? How will that affect the growth in UNC system schools? Will that negatively impact the number of out-of-state students who attend North Carolina universities? In an already floundering economy, where will the support come from to stabilize a new influx of students, and where will those jobs come from? These are merely a few of the questions regarding NC Pledge that I am fighting for answers to. I need those answers to better assist you in the future and ensure that our educated youth just like you and me are getting enough help to find jobs once you graduate.”

Liz couldn’t wait to wheedle her way backstage for an interview. She had answers to some of these questions, and quite a few more that she would like to ask him.

Brady moved on to another topic and then wrapped up the speech. The whole thing had been less than an hour, but a significant hour. Liz had more questions scrawled onto her notepad than when she had entered, which she thought was a success.

And as distracting as his pretty face had been, she was proud that she had kept to her work as much as she could. Perhaps it was because they couldn’t immediately disappear behind closed doors. Though that sounded like an appealing option.

Brady offered to stick around after the speech and talk to any students or faculty who were interested in speaking with him. Liz wanted nothing more than to rush over there and talk to him, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Flipping her notepad back to the front, she tucked it into her purse and walked back toward the sound booth. Brady had a line of adoring admirers that could take up another hour of his time at least. Liz certainly wasn’t going to wait in line. She would wait until he was done, then approach him for an interview…just an interview.

“How did it go?” Liz asked Justin when she entered the sound booth. She leaned against the counter, anxious to see how the material came out.

“Perfect shot,” he said with a shrug, as if his work wouldn’t be anything less.

“Great. I know your work is fantastic. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“It’s no problem.”

Liz tore out a piece of paper from her notebook and handed it to him. “Do you mind getting all of this to me from the video?”

Justin scanned the paper. “You did all this while the speech was going on?”

“Yes. There are people who can multitask.” She chuckled softly. “I know it’s a lot, but I know the material will look great on the website.”

“Yeah, I should be able to do all this. I can multitask.” He winked at her in that typical Justin way and then started adding his own notes. “When do you want it?”

“Tonight would be amazing.” She crossed her fingers, hoping he wouldn’t charge more and just see it as a personal favor.

He nodded. “All right, Liz. For you.”

Liz smiled. “Thank you. Can’t wait to see how it turned out.” She turned to leave, ready to wait out the flock of admirers.

“Hey, Liz?” Justin called as she reached the door. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“Working.”

“Me and some of the guys are having a party over on Frat Court if you’re interested,” he said with a lazy shrug.

Liz never expected him to be in a fraternity. It still amazed her. He just didn’t strike her as the type. “I’ll let you know,” she said.

The chances of her going to Justin’s fraternity party were as close to zero as possible. He had invited her to more than she could count, and she had only been once. Victoria had come with her, and they had bailed around midnight. She didn’t have Victoria this time to make it tolerable.

Veering back out into the auditorium, Liz made a survey of the room. The Advance Team was already hard at work breaking down the event. Fliers that had been left behind were being collected and stacked to one side. The sound crew was fixing the special accommodations that had been made for the Senator.

Heather Ferrington was off to the side talking to a shorter bulky man that Liz was surprised she recognized. He was the jackass who had made fun of her at the club that night after the press conference. It all felt so long ago. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Was he involved in the campaign somehow?

Pushing those thoughts aside, she found Brady amid the crowd. More than half of his line had dissipated. They had either given up on meeting him or he had barreled through people faster than she expected. He was the perfect politician—shaking hands, taking pictures, answering questions.

Liz spoke to a girl she recognized from class. She had liked the speech and had decided she was voting for him. Liz asked her if she could quote her on that. The girl giggled, but agreed. Another student gave her a testimonial about how much he liked Brady. A third student said that while Brady was handsome, she hadn’t been sold entirely and she planned to research the other candidates more. Feeling that she had gotten the most out of the remaining students, she accepted those three as her sources and called it a day.

She walked over to where Brady was mingling with the remaining students. Leslie was among them, staring up at him with a gaga expression as he told a story. Liz wondered if she was infatuated with him like everyone else or if she was pushing for an internship with the campaign. If…when he won, it would look good on her already packed résumé.

“Ah, Ms. Dougherty,” Brady said, looking up and directly at her, “just the person I was looking for.”

Liz had enough good form not to look surprised when he interrupted himself to address her. “Senator Maxwell, always a pleasure,” she said, thinking of other pleasures they had indulged in.

“You’re here for an interview, I presume?” he asked with a smile.

“Of course. Are you ready?” she managed, keeping from darting her eyes toward Leslie with a ha-ha! expression.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” Brady said sweetly to his crowd of worshipers.

“Senator Maxwell,” Leslie cut in before he could leave, “do you think you will have time to speak after your…interview?” she asked, cutting her eyes to Liz.

“Another time perhaps. Ms. Dougherty has already requested the remainder of my time in Chapel Hill,” he said, ending the discussion. “Right this way, Ms. Dougherty.”

Liz followed him back up the stairs, to the stage, and through the side door that led them to the back of the auditorium. She was surprised at how empty it was; it had cleared out entirely. She guessed all of the students wanted to get back to the pool as quick as possible. She heard the door click behind her, and she slowly turned to find herself completely alone with Brady.

The air between them crackled with tension.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since her hands had threaded through his hair. Two weeks since she had circled her legs around his waist. Two weeks since her moans had taken over the hotel room.

She had missed him, and it was downright painful. How had she not noticed it when he had been onstage? She had stared up into his handsome face for a whole hour, her mind hardly drifting from what he was saying. Now here, with so little space between them, all she wanted to do was reach out and touch him, make sure he was real, make sure it had all really happened.

“How come you didn’t find me sooner?” he asked, taking a step toward her.

“Didn’t know you needed me to save you,” she said.

“Well, you played along perfectly.”

“I was actually coming to find you for an interview,” Liz told him. The air seemed to be thinning the nearer he drew toward her. How was it suddenly so warm?

“Then you read my mind,” he said with a smile. It was contagious and she returned it. “What questions did you have for me?”

He was mere inches from her, and she was having a hard time remembering anything she was going to ask him. All of her carefully prepared questions flew out the window, and all she could think about was his lips on her.

“Tongue-tied?” he said, his hand moving forward and running up her skirt to her waist.

Her breathing hitched and she strained to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t let him completely distract her. She had questions. They were somewhere in her mind, and she needed to ask them. “You oppose NC Pledge for numerous reasons.”

“I have problems with some of the specifics of the legislation,” he said, circumventing her statement with the ease of a politician.

“You’re blocking the legislation from moving forward in the state legislature.”

“Was there a question in that?” he asked.

She swallowed, and tried to keep her thoughts on track. His thumb circling her hip bone wasn’t helping. Stay professional! she yelled at herself.

“Why do you feel the questions you have posed regarding NC Pledge are enough to block landmark education policy in North Carolina? And how can the people of North Carolina, specifically this district, expect you to further our interests on Capitol Hill when you aren’t even doing that here?” she asked, staring up at him with as much professional decorum as she could muster. She could see his campaign mask begin to slip on, and his eyes hardened. She had surprised him again.

“Until the legislature has agreed upon terms that I believe will actually benefit North Carolina,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, clearly wanting her to hear his words, “rather than hinder the slow growth within our state, I will continue to fight for better terms. I’ll do the same on the Hill.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response, the rest of his face blank. She wondered how irritated he was under that cool, collected front.

Damn. He was good.

He hadn’t actually said anything.

“But why wouldn’t you want more students to attend college?”

“Of course I support students attending college.”

“Did you have a basketball scholarship?” She already knew the answer.

“I did.”

“Could your parents have paid for you to go to college if you hadn’t had the scholarship?”

His hand tightened on her hip. “I see where you’re going with this, Ms. Dougherty.”

“Just a simple question, Senator,” she said.

“Yes, my parents could have paid for me to attend the university.”

“Do you know how many other students don’t have that privilege? Please, Senator, explain to me why those students don’t deserve a college education when you do?” she asked point-blank.

“I believe every student has the right to an education,” he said sternly. His brown eyes seemed to bore into her. “I do, however, feel that NC Pledge does not satisfy a number of other demands, such as cost to the university system and future benefits in the workforce. These problems need to be addressed first.”

“Can I quote you on that?” she asked, licking her lips as his hand moved to the small of her back.

“By all means, Ms. Dougherty,” he said, pulling her against him.

She could see the mask slipping as he stared down at her. What was it that put him so on edge, and how did she manage to smooth that away so easily? She could do both within seconds, and both sides of him were incredibly appealing.

“Liz,” he whispered, leaning down closer. “Are we done discussing politics? You know how much I like being lectured.”

“I would say so,” she responded, pushing her hands up his chest and around his neck.

Kissing his lips set off a fireworks display in her stomach. She pressed farther into him, gripping his back with the extreme intensity she was feeling. He responded with fervor, walking her back against the wall and kissing her as if it had been years rather than two weeks. His hands ran up and down her body, making her remember every place he had touched.

She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was just Brady. She felt as if she was lost in a world of him, drowning in him, suffocating in him. Nothing could feel more real or more enticing than this moment.

If she had ever been kissed like this before, then her memory was entirely faulty. His need was showing through with every grasp of her body, with every heavy breath from his lips, and with every swish of his tongue against her own. It wasn’t even the first time they had kissed, but it was laced so heavily with the absence.

She had thought it was hot before, but she was practically perspiring with the heat rushing to the surface of her skin. He ran his hands down her body and between her thighs, sending chill bumps up and down her arms. He pressed his fingers against her most sensitive spot through her pencil skirt, and she groaned into his lips.

“Brady,” she whimpered, her thoughts flying back to the hotel room.

“God I want you,” he admitted, locking lips with her again.

She was aware as he swirled his fingers that she wanted him pretty damn badly as well. How had he cast such a spell? She just wanted to go home and let him have his way with her. She didn’t care that she had promised herself it would only happen once. She couldn’t be satisfied, couldn’t be satiated.

She wanted Brady Maxwell.

“Come back to my place?” she asked boldly.

“I have a dinner I have to attend,” he said as if it was the hardest thing he had ever done.

“Come after. Whenever,” she nearly pleaded.

“I want to, but I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. He pulled her against him, hugging her tight. She held him, somehow knowing their time together was over for now. She felt a sudden loss. “Meet me tomorrow?”

Liz nodded. She would meet him anywhere.

He bent down and kissed her lips one more time, a lingering good-bye with promise for more.