House. We make a good team, professionally speaking. So, under my terms. I’ll continue our marriage.”
“What are your terms?”
“First, you’ll give up the other woman. I’m not willing to be humiliated any longer.”
Warner nodded.
“Second, I’m an equal partner. I direct your career, the campaigns, and help decide policy. If at any point, I don’t feel you’re living up to your end of the bargain – it’s finished. I walk. I’ll divorce you, and your political career will be over.” She didn’t need to tell him that as a successful prosecutor, she could pursue a lesser political career on her own.
“And lastly, your father is out. I never want to deal with, or even see, him again. In fact, I don’t even want his name mentioned in my presence.”
“Why?” he asked.
She couldn’t bring herself to answer him. “If you want this to work, you agree to my terms.”
“Fine, fine.” He held his palms in the air, as if to surrender. “Your terms, Carolyn.”
Right now, six years seemed like an eternity, but she knew the election would come all too soon. An election that Warner had better win, or they’d both suffer the consequences.
EIGHTEEN
Monday morning, Carolyn arrived at the courthouse well before seven. Down the hallway, she could see light shining through the doorway of Mark’s office. Their one night stand, over two years ago, still hung between them. Every now and then, Mark brought up his love and desire for her, which strained their friendship. And even though she refused to sleep with him, he remained a close friend and confidant. She wondered if the depth of their trust came from their intimacy, or a shared secret that could harm them both.
Every time she allowed herself serious thought on the subject, she was filled with conflicting emotions. Mark presented the only light and warmth in her life. Her logical mind gave her a multitude of reasons justifying an affair.
Although they’d reached a truce, Warner never touched her. But adultery still felt wrong.
“How are things going?” Carolyn asked.
Mark met her gaze. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry.” She took a seat across from him. “I was wondering if you could help me with a project.”
“What type of project?”
“I’ll go into more detail later, but let’s just say we’re going to need to add a few names to our campaign payroll. Edmund once gave me a lead on some private investigators. I think it’s time we employ them. I’ve built up a little nest egg with some investments that can be used to fund them, for now.”
“What do you need investigators for?”
“You know, Mark, here in Missouri the good-old-boys run the show. And you also know, better than I how they love to hunt. Well, I’m sick of playing the part of the hunted. It’s time I turned the tables and bought myself some ammunition.” Carolyn gave him a wink, then turned and walked out of his office.
Mark watched Carolyn leave and listened to her footfalls recede down the corridor outside of his office. Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number he’d recently memorized, the office of Edmund Lane.
Edmund answered on the first ring.
“Is your offer still good?” Mark asked. Six months earlier, Edmund had approached him regarding the creation of an alliance of influential men who’d work to put Warner in the White House. Mark was flattered to be included in this elite group. Edmund referred to their organization as the “Council,” and enticed Mark with promises of a prominent future in Washington. D.C.
“Does a birddog hunt? Of course, my offer stands,” Edmund said. “You help put Warner in the White House, and the Council will take real good care of you.”
“What can I expect?”
“Depends on what you got to give, son.”
“Fair enough,” Mark said. “Do Carolyn’s plans qualify for a Cabinet post?”
“Speaking of birddogs, sounds like you might have quite a catch on your hands. What’ve you got?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Son, the Council don’t fuck around. And I don’t like repeating myself. I told you that if you deliver, you’ll be taken care of.”
“Well,” Mark hesitated. It was time to move on, he told himself. Carolyn didn’t love him. And obviously she had no qualms about using him, so turnabout seemed only fair. “She’s making her move,” Mark said. “She wants me to hire that investigative firm you told her about.”
“Do as she asks,” Edmund replied. “We’re ready for her.”
PART II. DEBT OF DEFEAT 1996-1999
NINETEEN
Warner collapsed onto the chaise lounge in the master bedroom. He had two more engagements in the afternoon before the charity ball that evening. Could he continue at this pace? he wondered. The muscles around his mouth ached from smiling.
Carolyn was driving him hard. She insisted they attend every political and society committee meeting, every public event. And she arranged everything, down to where he sat and with whom he spoke at the receptions and banquets.
She handed him scripts to memorize, briefing him on specific points he needed to cover with the power brokers and special interest groups. She often attended the social and political functions with him. As a couple they shined, although their personal relationship remained cold and distant. They only shared a bed so the household help wouldn’t talk.
He walked into the bathroom, tossed back two aspirin, splashed cold water on his face, then patted it dry. His life had become a twisted circus. He rubbed moisturizer into the dark circles under his eyes.
Granted, he was determined to win back his senatorial seat, then take the presidency. But was it worth it? Only the next election, he realized, could render that verdict.
But my God, what a price he was paying.
Birds chirped outside Carolyn’s window, and a soft breeze whispered through the room. In her office of their temporary home. Carolyn dialed a number long since committed to memory. “Mark, it’s me. I need to speak to you regarding Mort Fields and the equity I own in his software company.”
“You have equity in Fields’s cherry project?” Mark’s incredulity echoed over the phone connection.
