Текст книги "On the Record"

Автор книги: K. A. Linde

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

Chapter 9

Q & A

A month after the snow day, Liz sat in front of a crowded auditorium for the first-ever colloquium on political journalism at UNC. Today was the big day that she and Professor Mires had been working toward all year. A year of work culminated in one day of activity, and all Liz could think about was the fact that she had to give a speech. Her palms were sweating, her throat felt as if she had swallowed a bottle of cotton balls¸ and her wavy blond hair was sticking to the back of her neck. She hated public speaking. Hated it. She always had.

That was part of the reason she wanted to be a reporter. She was fantastic one-on-one or even in a crowd of reporters, and even better on paper. But she hadn’t signed up to speak in front of a large group of people and have them all stare at her. She had purposely avoided broadcast journalism, because she would rather be behind the camera than in front of it. How did people become so comfortable doing this?

She was about to present her research with Professor Mires to a roomful of distinguished professors in their fields, some prominent reporters for big newspapers, and who knew who else could be in attendance. She thought she might be sick.

Sure, she knew the education policy material like no other, and she had worked her ass off to make everything perfect, but she still felt like a really small fish here. It was a feeling that she didn’t like.

“Okay. Let’s get started,” Professor Mires said, quieting the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for attending this panel in undergraduate research. I would like to start off this session with one of my own students, Miss Liz Dougherty. She will be presenting her paper, ‘Education Policy and New Media in Political Journalism,’ to you today. Take the floor, Liz.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mires,” Liz said. She stood demurely and smoothed out her knee-length cream pencil dress, which belted around the middle with a black buckle. She had taken off her matching black blazer, because the room was warm enough without her freaking out. Her black heels clicked across the hardwood floor as she took the stage. Her eyes roamed the room, but she took it all in in a haze.

Somehow she started speaking. The words tumbled out of her mouth in coherent sentences that made the people sitting in the room nod their heads along with her. A few older gentlemen in the middle stared stonily up at her and she quickly averted her gaze. She hoped they always looked pissed off and weren’t angry about her presentation.

She had a fifteen-minute time slot, and when she reached the halfway point, Dr. Mires gave her a reassuring smile. It eased more of the tension off of her shoulders and she barreled forward. She could do this. She didn’t want to do it every day or anything, but she was doing all right so far.

The door at the back of the room opened and Liz’s eyes flicked up to the interruption in her speech.

Brady Maxwell walked into the room.

Her tongue tied, her face flushed, and she stood in front of everyone like a blubbering idiot. He closed the door quietly and stood in the back of the auditorium, his arms crossed, leaning against the back wall.

She couldn’t believe he had come to her panel. She knew that he was going to be at the colloquium for a politicians’ roundtable this afternoon, but she had expected him to attend his event and then be gone.

But no. Brady was currently in the room for her presentation.

Fuck.

Her memory did not do justice to the man. Even at this distance she could see the contours of his face, the sleek three-piece suit, the confident attitude, those dark brown eyes. Okay . . . maybe she couldn’t see those, but her imagination sure filled in the details.

What the hell had she been talking about before this?

Education policy. Right.

Liz broke eye contact with Brady across the room and looked down at the paper she was clutching in her hands with a death grip. She took a moment to collect herself. She knew Brady was watching her. She could feel his eyes all over her, and she felt vulnerable and exposed. How long in her dark times after walking away had she imagined him coming to find her and begging for her to come back? How many times had she thought about that beautiful face, reconstructing it in her mind? How many times had she wanted those eyes on her, assessing her, judging her, loving her?

No. Christ, she couldn’t go there today. She couldn’t love Brady today. She couldn’t love him ever again. She had buried those feelings, buried them in that dark, dank place that she would never be able to access. A drum beat a fast rhythm in her chest as she tried to regain her bearings.

She just had to get through this presentation. Then she could freak out. She could hold it together until then.

Liz cleared her throat and looked back up at her audience. “As I was saying, our education policy as it stands needs to be revamped. Students are skimming by, learning only to take a test, not to think for themselves. Several studies have shown that previous generations performed better in college when the emphasis was on forward thinking and not test taking.”

She went through the next few slides, detailing the work of political scientists and journalists who had looked at education policy more closely. Then she outlined her own findings and conclusions about the role of social media and how journalism could improve and refocus the political agenda.

“These changes, with the aid of political journalists in the field as well as the support of politicians, could create major improvements not just in secondary education, but on up through the university system.”

Liz concluded her presentation and then took a seat. She felt like a towel that had just been wrung out.

Besides her mishap when Brady had walked into the room, she didn’t think the presentation had gone poorly. But Brady hadn’t taken his eyes off of her the entire time. In fact, she had felt like those chocolate-brown eyes that had once made her entire body warm with desire were drilling a hole straight through her body. And she was talking about education policy, of all things. She had always been passionate about it.

How many times had she argued with Brady about pushing aside education policies that could have benefited the university for some budgetary measure? And she had thought for a long time that he was favoring the donors he so heavily relied on . . . that he was doing this for money . . . that he just wanted to be in the spotlight. It was a sentiment she had never been able to understand, because she had never wanted those things for herself. But then over time she had realized how wrong she was about Brady.

Too late now. She had left. He was with someone else. She was with Hayden.

She didn’t hear the next three presenters as each took up his or her own fifteen-minute slot. She knew what they were discussing because of her assistant work for the colloquium, but the words coming out of their mouths might as well have been gibberish. The only thing she could concentrate on was the person standing stoically in the back of the room.

“Thank you so much to all of the presenters,” Professor Mires said as the last person finished. The crowd applauded and she waited for the room to quiet down before speaking again. “All the students have worked tremendously hard, and we appreciate the effort. Since we have a little extra time, I’d like to open up the floor for questions.”

A few hands were raised and Dr. Mires called on people. Liz answered one or two questions, as did everyone else. Answering questions definitely wasn’t as hard as giving her speech, though as a reporter she was used to firing them off.

Then she saw a hand rise in the back of the room and her heart stopped beating. What could Brady possibly have to ask? Was it even kosher for him to ask a question?

“Congressman Maxwell,” Professor Mires called. She sounded surprised. Liz doubted she had been expecting a politician to ask a question.

All eyes turned to stare at him. If they were all as surprised as Dr. Mires was then they didn’t show it.

“Yes, I have a question for Miss Dougherty,” Brady said formally.

“By all means.”

“As I’m a current member of the Education Committee in Congress,” Brady began, his voice smooth and strong, “what would you personally say from your research is the most important factor for me to take back to D.C. regarding education?”

Liz’s stomach dropped out. He was on the education committee? She hadn’t been following his progression in Congress at all. She had been purposely avoiding it at all costs. She didn’t want to know what he was up to and torture herself any more than she already was.

But what would a man who had balanced the budget in the North Carolina State Legislature, whose father was head of the budget committee in the Senate, be doing sitting on an education board? She knew that freshman Congressmen were placed wherever more senior members chose, but this was Brady. His father’s name alone would have moved him up the ranks.

And it certainly wasn’t his specialty. He hadn’t even run on education reform. He worked in real estate, ran his family business, budgeted properties. He wasn’t an educator in the slightest. So then . . . why was he working in education?

It made her want to run back to her computer and look up every single bill that he had been working on to find out what the hell he was up to.

But first she had to get through his scrutiny.

What would she tell Brady to take back to D.C.? Christ, what a question!

Oh, how a part of her wanted to spit back at him not to favor big donor money for budget reforms in place of education policy. Education was a positive speaking point, but it wasn’t something a politician could run on. It didn’t distinguish them. It didn’t make them stand out . . . not like balancing a budget in the current fiduciary climate.

If only Congress would make education a priority instead of a backdrop, then they could begin to see improvements to the system. But she couldn’t say that to him. She couldn’t throw words she had spoken to him last summer back in his face like this in public. She couldn’t let her answer to the question be personal. Wasn’t that what Dr. Mires had been trying to instill into Liz’s work all last summer?

“Thank you for that question, Congressman Maxwell,” Liz said formally.

They were staring at each other across the room, and she felt her cheeks heating. His face was a mask of indifference, and she was dying to know what he was thinking right now.

“I believe there are probably several answers to this question. Education policy, as you know, is multifaceted and should be addressed as such. So I believe that the strongest thing you should take back to D.C. would be to focus on policy that treats students as individuals. So often they are lost in the standardized tests and labeled as a number, a score; you lose the individual. Finding a way to treat education reform both systematically as well as on an individual level would be a step in the right direction, in my opinion.”

Her voice wasn’t even shaky when she finished. Because by the end it felt as if it were only she and Brady in the room and she was telling him all over again why this was important to her. The faintest of smiles crossed his gorgeous face before it fell away.

“Thank you, Miss Dougherty. I’ll take that into consideration,” he said formally.

And then as easily as he had walked into the room, he slipped back out. Liz was left reeling.

The panel concluded without fanfare and everyone filed out. Dr. Mires pulled Liz aside with a congratulatory pat on the back. She knew how much Liz disliked public speaking.

“I have some people I want you to meet,” she said, directing her to the back of the room.

Two women and a man stood in a cluster with their heads ducked together, and Dr. Mires guided Liz straight to them.

“Lynda,” a woman greeted Dr. Mires. She was a few inches shorter than Liz, with hair graying at the temples even though she didn’t look that old. She had keen eyes and a sharp smile. She was someone who wasn’t imposing until you caught a glimpse of those eyes, and then they cut you straight through.

“Nancy. It’s so good to see you.”

The two women greeted each other with a warm handshake.

“Bob. Susan,” Professor Mires said, acknowledging the other two people. Bob was tall and lanky, with an air of importance to him that matched his black suit. Susan was the youngest of the bunch, no more than ten years older than Liz. She had short straight hair cut with sharp bangs and she tapped her foot incessantly. “This is my student Liz Dougherty. She’s the one I’ve been telling you about.”

Liz turned to look at Dr. Mires, slightly slack-jawed. She had been talking to people about her?

“Pleasure to meet you,” Nancy said first, shaking hands just as warmly. “It’s always good to meet one of Lynda’s students.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Liz said automatically, shaking hands with the others as well.

“Liz, Nancy is a senior editor for the New York Times. We went to college together at Columbia. Bob works for the Washington Post. You’ve spent, what, fifteen years reporting there?” Dr. Mires asked.

He nodded and shrugged. “Twelve.”

“And Susan here works for USA Today. Before that she was several years at the Chicago Tribune. She was also one of my students,” Dr. Mires explained cordially.

Liz smiled on the outside while on the inside she was freaking out. First Brady. Now this. Holy shit! She was meeting people who worked her dream jobs. She would kill to get a job at the Times or the Washington Post. And Dr. Mires was introducing her to these people as if it were no big deal. In fact, as she looked at Professor Mires, she realized it was no big deal to her. These were her colleagues, her friends, her students. These were the people she was introducing to Liz because Liz was also all of those things.

Liz wanted to be a reporter, and as her advisor, Dr. Mires was ensuring that she didn’t just become a reporter, but a damn good one.

“Liz, why don’t you come to lunch with us and discuss your work and future aspirations? I’m sure my colleagues would be able to point you in the right direction for your scholarship internship hours next year,” Professor Mires said.

“Oh yes, we’re always happy to meet with Lynda’s students,” Nancy said.

“I would love to join you. Thank you,” Liz responded. She felt as if all the pieces to her life were falling into place in this moment, and it felt incredible.

Liz knew that she shouldn’t go to the politicians’ panel. She should find something else to do with her time. She had just had lunch with Dr. Mires, Nancy, Bob, and Susan. They had all been interested in her work on the paper and her interests in political journalism. They had even given her their business cards and told her to keep in touch. It was definitely a step in the right direction. Walking into the politicians’ panel was the exact opposite of that.

But she couldn’t stay away from Brady . . . not when the opportunity to see him was staring her in the face.

Extra credit was being offered to most of the journalism classes for attendance, and when Liz ducked into the back of the room, she picked out a ton of her classmates and a large chunk of the newspaper staff.

Liz plopped down into the seat next to Massey with a sigh. She hadn’t seen Hayden all day and prayed that he wouldn’t show up to this. She knew that he had class most of the day and his electives wouldn’t let him out for the presentations. They didn’t care that he got extra credit that he in all honesty didn’t need in classes other than their own. He thought it was pretty ridiculous, considering he would be graduating in less than two months. Her heart stopped at the thought, and she pushed it away. She could clam up about graduation until it got closer.

Her thoughts trailed off as a side door opened and Brady walked into the room. He took a seat and she couldn’t even remember what she had been thinking.

Massey’s sharp intake of breath was enough for Liz to know that she had noticed how fucking attractive he was. “Holy shit!” she squealed in Liz’s ear. “He’s so hot.”

Liz nodded.

“Oh, please, just because you have Hayden doesn’t mean you can deny pure male attractiveness. You guys aren’t perfect enough for that.”

Liz swallowed. “I didn’t deny anything.” And she couldn’t. She couldn’t even pull her eyes from his face.

She had missed him.

Christ, she wasn’t going to think about that.

“Why is he a politician? He can just come right over to get work done in my bed,” Massey said with her sorority-girl giggle. “I promise we’ll be more effective than Congress, baby.”

Her friends next to her snorted through their laughter, and professors turned around to give them nasty looks. It just made them laugh louder.

“I’ll avoid a government shutdown, if you know what I mean,” she said, nudging Liz.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Liz said, allowing herself to laugh a little.

“Whatever. I’d do it for that body.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I feel a little bad for Savannah. Having a brother that hot must suck,” Massey whispered, glancing around to see if Savannah was in attendance. Liz hadn’t seen her all day. Liz wondered if she was hiding out because her dad and brother were here.

“I doubt she even notices.”

Massey rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease.”

The room quieted down as Dr. Mires stood to begin the roundtable. The main topic was the November election. Each politician gave their thoughts on what had happened, the role of the media in the election, and their early projections for the presidential election next November.

As much as it pained her to think about Brady, she was glad that Hayden wasn’t here to witness it. He read her like an open book. She couldn’t hide what was warring inside of her. She couldn’t lie to him, and she wasn’t ready to tell him. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready for that.

It wasn’t as bad as Liz thought it was going to be. Brady didn’t look in her direction once . . . if he even knew that she was there. It hurt, of course. But really it was for the best. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him a question during the Q&A.

“What do you think about asking, boxers or briefs?” Massey leaned in and asked.

Liz swallowed. She had some firsthand experience with the answer to that question. It made color rush to her cheeks.

“Oh my God, Lizzie,” she joked. “I’m not actually going to ask him that. I’m not that embarrassing!”

Liz just shook her head and tried to hide her own embarrassment. Somehow Massey managed to pull herself together to get a question out to Brady.

“Congressman Maxwell,” she said.

Brady looked over in their direction and Liz felt his eyes flicker over her face. Her heart stopped as her blue eyes met the dark depths of his chocolaty brown ones. She felt her world spin in that one look before he passed over her and turned to address Massey.

Liz didn’t even hear the question. Massey had it written down, so Liz could grab it from her later . . . and it probably wouldn’t be essential to include in her report anyway. But all she could see were memories flashing before her eyes. The lake house, Fourth of July, the moment he slid his key into her hand, the feel of his hands on her body, the sound of his voice when he said that he loved her. It all came rushing back so perfectly.

She thought about the chain sitting in her jewelry box on her dresser and the meaning of each of those charms inside the locket: an airplane, the number four, a key, and the November birthstone. Brady had given it to her on the beach in Hilton Head as a gift, maybe even a promise of a future that they had never had. She had worn it every day for months. She never took the damn thing off except to shower. Even then she felt lost without it. But after the election she had forced herself to stop wearing it. It didn’t make any difference. In that moment, she wished desperately that she was wearing it. Her eyes stung as she fought to hold back her tears.

She hadn’t felt like this in months. The last time had been when she found out about Brady’s new girlfriend, and before that New Year’s. She had moved on. But then why did she feel as if she was being torn to pieces with just one lingering look?

The panel concluded and Liz numbly followed Massey out of the auditorium. She was hanging with a group of sorority girls Liz didn’t really fit in with, but the benefit of that was that she didn’t have to say anything. They carried on the conversation just fine without any input.

The lobby of the campus conference center was full of people milling around after that last panel. There were two more panels after it, but Liz had assumed they would be smaller. A lot of the students wouldn’t be attending them. Liz was only going because she had helped Dr. Mires put the entire thing on, so she didn’t think she would be able to sneak away.

Liz caught sight of a head of long dark hair and smiled. Savannah. So she was here. Ever since the day that Liz had told her that she had actually voted for Brady, things had been different between them. Both girls had relaxed around each other at work and the few occasions when they hung out. Liz found that she actually liked Savannah best of anyone else at the paper. They had similar work ethics, and each was more determined than the other to prove herself.

Liz waved to her as she walked over to where Savannah was standing. “Hey, I didn’t see you in there.”

Savannah shrugged. “I’ve heard them speak a million times. I didn’t need to hear this one.”

“You didn’t miss much. It was pretty boring,” she said softly.

“Oh, I figured. Brady said at lunch that it was going to be.”

Liz breathed in and out as slowly as possible. Of course Savannah had lunch with her brother while he was in town. Nothing to freak out about.

“Well, he was right.” As always.

“Hey, I’m glad I ran into you. What are you doing for dinner tonight?” Savannah asked.

“Um . . . I don’t know. Why?”

“Want to come with me? I’ll pick you up and everything.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Savannah?” Liz asked with a half laugh. “You’re not really my type.”

“Okay, it’s super secret. Like, don’t even tell Hayden about it. Just tell him you’re going out with me, but we’ll have a good time, okay?”

“I haven’t even agreed,” Liz said, her interest piqued.

“Oh, did you not? I didn’t notice. I’ll come get you around eight,” Savannah told her.

“All right,” Liz said with a shrug.

“Brady’s going to be out in a second. Want me to introduce you two?” she asked. “I know you guys met on campaign, but I’ll introduce you to the real Brady Maxwell. He’s actually not as stuck up as he looks.” Savannah giggled and started dragging her across the room.

“Oh, no, Savannah . . . that’s okay. We’ve . . . we’ve already met. It’s, um . . . really not necessary,” Liz stammered out.

“Come on. It’s just my brother. He doesn’t bite.”

Liz disagreed. He most certainly did bite . . .

“Oh, there he is,” Savannah said, just as Brady walked out of a back door from the auditorium. “I had a feeling he’d come this way.”

“Oh,” was all Liz managed to get out as she stared at Brady standing there talking to his father. She felt as if her legs were made of lead and she wasn’t sure how she was dragging them along.

“Brady!” Savannah called as they approached.

His eyes snapped up to Savannah and he smiled. She knew that smile. God, how many times had she seen him look that happy? He loved his sister. They were really two peas in a pod. And then he saw Liz walking next to her and the smile dropped off of his face. Her legs didn’t just feel like lead then; her whole body felt like lead, sinking straight to the bottom of the ocean.

Savannah pulled Liz along behind her and kept that smile on her face. “Brady, this is my friend Liz. I work with her on the paper. She was my boss during the campaign. I don’t know if I mentioned her.”

Brady swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t think you did.” He seemed to have composed himself, but his eyes were still hard. She felt two feet tall in the shadow of that gaze. Then he stuck his hand out. “Brady Maxwell. I believe we met on campaign. Yes?”

“We did,” she whispered, nodding. She took his hand in hers. Sparks flew as if someone had struck a match between them. It jolted her, and she actually jumped a little on contact. He took in a deep, even breath and then quickly dropped her hand.

“How nice to meet you again,” he said, that campaign mask firmly in place. She wouldn’t be seeing her Brady the rest of the conversation. Not that anything about him was hers anymore. “How was the rest of the campaign?”

Liz felt the weight of that question to her very core. “Same old, same old. It took forever to get to November,” she all but whispered. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you. I had a great team behind me. They really believed in me and my vision,” he said, each word stabbing her like a knife wound.

“That’s very . . . fortunate,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

Savannah smiled, oblivious to the underlying conversation going on between them. “I’m glad I could reintroduce you,” she said brightly. “I know Liz voted for you in the election and spent a lot of time ensuring students on campus voted.”

“Is that right?” Brady asked, his gaze shifting to Savannah.

“I know how you like to talk to your constituents,” Savannah said with a pat on his arm, as if he weren’t some big politician. To Savannah he was just her brother. “I’m going to go find Dad. Find me after, Liz, okay?”

Savannah traipsed away to find her father before Liz could say anything. And then she was left alone with Brady.

They stood there together awkwardly. How many times had she envisioned what she would say when she finally saw him? How many times had she thought that she would beg his forgiveness, yell at him for never coming after her, throw herself at him? But none of those things happened. They just stared at each other.

Liz knew that she should say something. She even opened her mouth. But what could she say? They were so far removed from where they had been last August. She just wanted to apologize, to explain, but she couldn’t. Not here. Not like this.

“There you are,” Liz heard from behind her. Her stomach sank. Shit.

She broke Brady’s gaze and turned to see Hayden walking toward her. He was in a navy sport jacket and khakis with a striped shirt underneath. His hair was perfectly tousled and his hazel eyes were almost green as he smiled at her.

He walked right up to her and kissed her softly on the lips. She didn’t think she even responded.

“Hey, Lizzie,” he said when he pulled back.

Liz stepped away from him, feeling terrible at the realization that Brady was watching. Fuck.

“Um, hey,” she said awkwardly.

Hayden noticed who she was standing by and straightened up immediately. “Oh, you must be Brady Maxwell,” Hayden said, having the sense to look slightly embarrassed. Though she wondered if he had kissed her on purpose. No. This was Hayden. He didn’t have a bone in his body that wasn’t good and decent.

“That’s right,” Brady said.

Hayden thrust his hand out. “Hayden Lane. I’m the editor at the college newspaper.”

Brady took it, keeping his campaign mask firmly in place, but Liz could see the fire brimming in his eyes as he stared at Hayden. His gaze shifted to Liz and she could see precisely what he was thinking in that moment. You’re with this guy now?

Brady knew exactly who Hayden was. She had kissed Hayden in D.C. while she had been seeing Brady. Their picture had shown up in the newspaper when school started.

“Nice to meet you,” Brady responded. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

And without another second’s pause, Brady turned and walked in the opposite direction. She was left alone with Hayden, but she might as well have been all by herself all over again . . . because her heart had been ripped out of her chest with Brady’s departure.