Chapter Forty-One
Linda Owens had to admit. There was a certain something to be said for attaching yourself to a man who was like a magnet for media. The minute that she'd started putting her name out there as being open for business, the response had been massive. Absolutely massive.
It was a surprise. She'd been afraid there wouldn't be any at all, but instead she had, for the first time in her life, a serious array of choices that she could pick between. A handful immediately stood out, of course. Serious candidates, who had good chances of winning even without her help.
There were plenty of great options on the table. In this case, literally, as she'd spent the last two days worrying over what to choose, even as the number of choices continued to increase until she felt as if she was going to be overwhelmed.
She needed to figure out a way to decide, and the way she'd decided to go with was to write out the pluses and minuses of each choice, and then look at them all side-by-side. Photos of each candidate, clipped from various magazines, were paper-clipped to the corner of each paper.
Her phone buzzed again. Another offer? She'd started just turning them down. Whatever she was going to choose, there was no chance that she was going to keep adding people to the list of choices. Not when she was already struggling to juggle the number of options that she had.
It wasn't another email, though. It was a text message, and she still had his contact information in her phone. She probably wouldn't ever quite delete it—even if she wasn't working for Adam Quinn any more, he was a powerful networking tool, and eventually he would no doubt look back on her fondly.
Now, though, might not have been the ideal time to hear from him. He would still be sore from her leaving in such a hurry. She wanted his campaign to be in shambles, for him to beg her to come back, but she knew him better than that. Every position, even hers, was redundant. There were redundancies for the redundancies, in some cases.
He wasn't a man who relied on chance, not if he could help it. With his personality and his charisma and the magnetic way that he drew people to him, he could always help it.
So she didn't have any illusions, but it would have felt nice to know that he felt that she was indisposable. It just wasn't realistic.
She clicked the power button and the screen turned off before she could read his message. There wasn't time for personal feelings, not in the pre-election rush.
She missed him, sure. She missed a lot of people. He had a uniquely powerful presence, one that would always dominate the room that he was in. One that left an impression.
She had several impressions. The one that missed being part of a meteoric campaign. The one that missed being part of an almost guerrilla movement. Working with Adam and Tom had been a whirlwind, to say the least, and that whirlwind wouldn't be something that she'd be likely to repeat, not with any of the candidates arrayed out on the table.
That same whirlwind was why she'd left, she reminded herself. It was exciting and even exhilarating, but it wasn't good for her. It was just fun, and there were more important things than fun, or fulfilling, or anything like that.
Sometimes, you have to be smart rather than just enjoying yourself, and this was one of those times, like it or not.
She took a deep breath and shifted the phone from right beside her hip to the other side of the couch, where it was less likely to distract her. She would need all the help she could get.
It would be dishonest to move into the Presidential race with another candidate—though she'd gotten offers. She wasn't going to consider anyone else, because she wasn't going to be used as a weapon against Adam, no matter how effective she might be at it.
Which meant that no matter what, it wasn't going to be a move up. The Senate was probably the only opportunity she'd have. Wherever they moved her to, it wasn't going to be flying around nonstop, and it wasn't going to be based out of DC.
She took a breath and started going left-to-right. Grant, the sitting Senator from Texas. He was strong on the issues, and he was popular with the constituency. The safest option, really. He was a shoe-in if he didn't campaign a bit. There weren't even any real whispers around the Hill of any impropriety.
On the other end of the spectrum, Jill Green was trying to topple a 20-year veteran California senator. She had a good chance of doing it, of course. There was a lot of voter dissatisfaction in California this year, and with the right campaign of controlled aggression, she could upset very easily.
In between were the hedged bets. She felt a tug to give Jill a call and see where she stood. More like, ask when she could start work. How much of that was Adam's influence, though? She'd been working for an underdog for the past months.
Moving over to a new underdog was just more of the same, on a smaller scale. Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing. She ought to reset her risk-o-meter.
Which was why all the other options were still on the table. Her phone buzzed again. She checked it again, in spite of herself. Thankful it wasn't another text from Adam. It sat there in her notifications bar with surprising weight.
An email from someone she'd have to turn down. She wrote the standard response. The phone felt good in her hand. She looked down at Jill Green's sheet of info. Her heart pounded a little, as doubt started to creep up, but she dialed nonetheless.
A minute later, a woman's voice answered.
"You've reached the office of Jill Green, how can I help you?"
Linda's chest pounded a little. Every interview always felt this way, somehow. "This is Linda Owens? I'm calling about a job offer from Mrs. Green."
The woman paused a minute before answering. "Good to hear. One moment and I'll put you through."
Linda's head buzzed, and then another woman's voice spoke on the other end of the line.
"Miss Owens? Glad you could call."
Linda's stomach churned in her gut. "Of course. I was glad to hear you're looking at me. I've been following your campaign with some interest."