Chapter Eighteen

 

There was something awful about watching the interns field calls from journalists. Watching them give half-way denials and refuse to answer the questions. The only feeling that Linda could really compare it to was being on a roller coaster, getting to the top, and staring down the first big drop knowing what's about to come but not being able to do anything but go along for the ride.

Then you hope to hell that the carts don't go flying off the tracks and lift you back out of it. Even then, though, everything moves so fast that you barely have time to react. And that was what was about to happen. Everything up to this point had been like going up the hill.

Slow, methodical, and with the sure knowledge of what was going to come next. Come eight o'clock, they'd be on every news station for miles. They'd been given a script to read, just about. And everyone gave the sort of 'I don't know' denials that don't keep stories off the news.

So far, everyone had avoided giving her the phone. That was intentional, but it was only a matter of time before Linda had to respond. Mr. Quinn's response would come later, of course. Adam had to keep himself distant from it, or the eventual denial in the interview with Ellen Holden would either be old news, or would be unbelievable.

It had to come then. The forceful, real denial. Which meant that he had to weather the storm without talking to anyone for another forty-eight hours. For many men, it wouldn't be any sort of challenge. They did all their talking to the press through intermediaries and surrogates in the first place.

When you talk to the press through a surrogate, they are basically the same as the candidate coming on television. They get to say everything you believe, they get to project absolute confidence in the candidate and in the campaign.

On the other hand, when they fuck up, and when they say something that offends half your constituency, you get to claim that they were just saying what they thought, and your opinions don't align at all on that issue.

It's beautifully easy to stay safe that way.

Adam Quinn, of course, didn't do any of that. He liked giving the interviews himself. He liked to field phone calls when he could. He liked to do his talks face-to-face, even if it meant that they'd get a cut-up video package of him looking stupid. That sort of media manipulation isn't unknown.

So for Adam, unlike anyone else, there was a good chance that he wouldn't be able to keep himself from talking to the press without it looking quite conspicuous. Two days might be little enough time, and with the way that Ellen's been advertising, there's some hope that they won't have to worry about anyone asking why he's avoiding anything that could be misconstrued as an interview.

What worries Linda, though, is when she finds Adam sitting at his desk with a phone in his hand. Not only is he on the phone, but he's clearly on the phone with a reporter, assuring her that Adam Quinn would never be caught dead in a place like that.

He's trying to hide his voice, and he's toned down his particularly noticeable word choices, but it won't take long for the speculation to begin. He turns and looks at her absently, before turning back to the phone a minute later.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Owens is, uh. She wants to talk to you. Thanks."

He hands her the phone and turns back to his computer as if he had never been doing anything.

"Miss Owens?"

"Speaking."

"I'm calling from WXKB for comment on a story we've received from very reliable sources—we'll be running it this evening. We've heard that your candidate was found in some sort of… 'sex party?' Care to comment?"

"That's absolutely disgusting," Linda answers flatly.

"Can we quote you on that?"

"You can. Have a good afternoon, ma'am."

Linda sets the phone down in the cradle and leans over.

"Adam? What was that?"

He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes. Then he shrugs. There's a curious confidence about it. If anyone else were doing it, they might be acting like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. After all, that was the case. He couldn't help himself, the idea of talking to the press was just too tempting.

But instead, he was acting aloof. Almost blowing her off. Part of her burned at it, and yet another part revved up at the challenge.

"Don't do it again."

He shrugged again, a sign that he would absolutely be taking calls. Linda hadn't expected any different. Tom Delaney will be proud when he hears about it, no doubt.

But right now, it just means another mess to clean up.