CHAPTER NINE - VANESSA
“If you think your father is successful,” Dylan said, speaking low so as to not be overheard by any of my father's fans. “You're going to blow him out of the water, Vanessa.”
I blushed and leaned closer, “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. But I – ”
“Please, call me Dylan,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he spoke about my future career potential.
I'd never met anybody like him before. Oh sure, I'd been around plenty of political types, coming from this family, it was impossible to avoid. But I'd never met somebody whose sole job was to identify people they thought had talent and potential, and then groom them to be future politicians. And what blew me away even more was that he got so excited when it came to me talking about running for office in the future. His entire face lit up and he looked like he was barely containing his excitement.
“You're planning to run for Congress next term, correct?” he asked. “Take over your father's old seat in the House once he's in the Senate?”
“Well, I thought about it, briefly,” I said. “But I – ”
“No buts,” Dylan said. “We are going to make it happen. Vanessa, you are the future of not just this Congressional district, but this country. I can see your talent and ambition, and I'm not afraid to say that I already believe in you.”
I was dizzy with excitement and felt like I was walking on air. Yet, even with such high praise making my head buzz, I was distracted. I kept thinking about Carter and what I'd said to him. Sometimes, I could be too blunt and harsh for my own good; a not entirely wonderful trait I'd picked up from my father. And even though I knew that while he tried to hide it, Carter was sensitive. I knew that deep down, he felt inadequate and that one of his biggest fears was that he couldn't live up to the family's reputation.
And everything I'd said to him in my father's office only reinforced that notion in his head. I couldn't have felt like a bigger asshole if I'd tried. And knowing Carter like I did, even though he might not show it on the outside, I knew he was taking it hard.
I scanned the crowd, but saw no sign of him among the throngs of people. I was so distracted looking for him that I didn't even notice my father standing beside me until he tapped me on the shoulder.
“Where have you been?” he asked. “We're getting ready for the speeches now.”
“Sorry, I slipped away to talk to Carter earlier, and then Dylan pulled me aside.”
“Good work on your stepbrother by the way. I'm impressed,” Dad said, patting me on the back. “Looks like your influence did him well.”
He thought Carter's cleaner, more put together look was because of me. But honestly, since the night we had sex at the club, I'd tried to keep my distance from him. I needed time and space to think. To figure things out. And being around Carter always clouded my judgment as well as my emotions.
I excused myself from Dylan's side to take my place on stage. It was then, while I was front and center, that I saw Carter. His tie was removed, his shirt unbuttoned a bit and he was drinking straight from a bottle of Scotch. Jorge Gomez's granddaughter, Sofia, was at his side. His arm was around the woman's waist and the two of them were leaning close together, laughing at something.
My cheeks burned red as I tried to focus on my speech while my mind was racing, trying to find a way to stop the disaster before it started. But it was with a yawning chasm in my stomach and a deep, dark sense of foreboding, that I realized it was already too late.
“What the hell is he doing?” my Dad whispered in my ear. “I thought you'd talked to him about getting his shit together.”
Before I could say anything, let alone defend myself, my father had already summoned security to escort Carter out. I stayed where I was on stage and watched as Chuck and a few other large guys in suits approached him. Carter watched them coming, a look of agitation on his face. He took another long swig from his bottle and then turned and stared up at me, and for a moment, I looked back at him, trying to apologize with my eyes. And he gave me a brief smile that made me think I could fix things, and make things alright between us again.
I walked off the stage, stepping toward him, just as Dylan stepped up and put an arm around Carter's shoulder, smiling, talking, and obviously trying to calm him down. But Carter being who he was, swung at Dylan and hit him in the face with a closed fist. The sound of his fist connecting with Dylan's nose was loud enough that I heard it from where I was.
Dylan doubled over, clutching his nose with his hands, blood squeezing out from between his fingers. I hurried over to Carter and Dylan, torn between who to go to, as Carter looked at me and screamed, his face a mask of absolute rage.
“Everyone in this family is a joke!” he yelled. “Fucking fake ass people!”
He looked me dead in the eye as he said those words, and I felt my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. I knew, in that moment, that Carter wasn't capable of changing. He was who he was and he wasn't willing to change that. I realized that this had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with him. In that moment, even though my heart was shattered, I was sad for him.
“You need help, Carter,” I sobbed, not even bothering to cover my tears. “You need more help than even I can give you.”
Chuck and the bodyguards had managed to get ahold of him and they dragged him away. I watched as the front doors closed, and he was gone. Standing there, looking at those closed doors, I'd never felt so alone in my entire life. Even though I was surrounded by people, I was absolutely and utterly alone. No one here could possibly understand the pain I was going through in that moment. No one could understand the broken heart I was enduring. Nobody could ever understand what Carter had meant to me.
Not even Carter seemed to understand that.
ooo000ooo
Amy was more than happy to comfort me as I cried on her shoulder that later evening. We had wine and ice cream – more of both than I probably should have – and she let me talk, cry, rage, and rail. Most importantly, she didn't judge me for feeling the way I did.
“I can't believe I slept with him. Again. I'm so weak,” I sobbed. “He's never going to change. I should have known that. I should have fucking known that. I'm such a goddamn idiot.”
“Hush,” she said. “Give it a few days and then maybe try to talk to him again. He might just need a minute to calm down.”
“I can't,” I said, wiping my nose and sniffing loudly. “I'm too weak. I want to sleep with him, even though I know it's a terrible idea. Worse than a terrible idea.”
As soon as we were in the same room together, we'd naturally flirt and that eventually led us down a dangerous path. As I sat there, sobbing in my wine and ice cream with Amy, I knew that I wanted him still – even after his stupid little temper tantrum.
“That's love for ya, chica,” Amy said softly.
I snorted. “I don't love him. Not like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Girl, you've loved him from the moment you laid eyes on him. Even back in school when he drove you batshit crazy, it was always 'Carter this' and 'Carter that'. He's all you could talk about, and even when your families came together, that feeling didn't just go away. And if you're telling yourself that, you're straight lying to yourself – and that's never a good thing.”
“I can’t keep going like this, Amy. It’s killing me,” I said. My phone rang, and Amy picked it up and looked at the caller.
“It's Dylan,” she said, rolling her eyes and preparing to cancel the call.
“No, I need to talk to him,” I said. “I need to apologize for what happened at the gala.”
“Why? You didn't break his nose, Carter,” Amy said.
I took the phone and answered, trying not to sound as if I'd been crying.
“Hey, Dylan,” I said. “How are you doing? I hope you're okay?”
“I'm fine,” he said. “My nose will heal.”
I cringed remembering the way he looked after we'd cleaned up all the blood. He was a mess. Eyes blackened and bloodshot, his cheeks red and swollen. His perfectly symmetrical face might not be so perfect anymore. At least, not until he got a nose job to correct the damage left by my stepbrother.
“Listen, I'm really sorry about that. Sorry about Carter,” I said. “I really don't know what got into him and he was obviously out of line.”
“He was drunk, tensions were high,” Dylan said. “I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize who he was hitting.”
It looked pretty intentional to me and I think he knew exactly who he was throwing a punch at. But I kept that to myself. I saw no need to throw more gasoline on the fire.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you'd want to get together for dinner?” he asked. “Just to talk, of course.”
My stomach dropped. I liked Dylan well enough as a friend and valued him as a strategist. I knew he could do wonders for my career, but I had no interest in dating him. I looked at Amy, biting my lip, and as if she knew what he'd asked me, she mouthed “NO” over and over again, shaking her head aggressively.
“Uhh – ” I stammered.
“Just to talk about your career, I mean,” he said. “Nothing too personal, I promise. I just want to help you. I think that together, you and I can accomplish some pretty big things, Vanessa.”
“Ummm, yeah, okay – ” I said after a long while. “That sounds good. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there. ”
Amy frowned at me. “You’re going on a date with the guy? Seriously, Vanessa, you are in no shape to date anybody right now. You need to get your head right about Carter first.”
“He said he wanted to get together to talk about my political career,” I said. “It's not a date.”
“Sure, yeah. That's what they all say,” Amy said, rolling her eyes. “Girl, you just might be more messed up than I am.”
“You think so?” I teased. “You're pretty messed up – you're still not over your third grade boyfriend.”
“Because he's an underwear model now, duh,” Amy said with a laugh. “He looks nothing like he did in elementary school. Trust me on that.”
“It's still messed up,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe a little,” she said, popping a spoonful of Ben and Jerry's in her mouth.