For the Record (Record #3)(66)
Brady stepped out behind her in a tailored black tuxedo. He was all sharp lines and perfectly angular features. His brown eyes were intense and formidable, but his campaign mask slid into place just as quickly. The charm returned with more confidence than most people carried in a lifetime. He offered her his arm, and she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.
They walked gallantly into the event. The last time she had attended the Jefferson-Jackson Gala was the first time she and Brady had slept together. Their chemistry had been electric, and after only one dance, she hadn’t ever envisioned herself saying no to him. Of course she had, and they had been separated for a time, but that was their past. The five months prior had been some of the best moments of her life, and all she saw when she looked at Brady was her future.
They drew eyes around the room at their entrance. Some still whispered about the way they had gotten together and vague details that Erin had given the papers, which had died away with time. Some looked on with judgment in their eyes. But others did seem to be coming around to the fact that they were always together. The sooner they looked less like a spectacle and more like a couple the better.
“This way,” Brady said.
He guided her over to a front-row table that was already full. Each table sat ten people and there were at least fifty tables throughout the massive room decorated in the classic red, white, and blue.
Brady introduced her to the people seated at her table. Three of the men had worked with Brady when he had been a State Senator and each of them were accompanied by their wife. The only other person at their table was a small woman and her date.
“Liz, may I introduce you to Chelsea Young, lead lobbyist at EMi.”
“Nice to meet you,” Liz said, sticking out her hand. Chelsea was shorter than Liz by nearly a handbreadth, with almond-shaped brown eyes and blond highlighted shoulder-length hair. She wore a lavender hi-lo spaghetti-strap dress and pale pink lipstick.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Chelsea said. “And this is my date, Ben.”
They all shook hands again before taking a seat with Liz to Brady’s right and Chelsea to his left.
The room quieted as a figure walked out onstage—Brady’s father. He had been the introductory speaker two years ago when she had been here.
Brady’s father took the microphone in his hand and smiled that Maxwell politician smile. “Hello and welcome to the fifty-fifth annual Jefferson-Jackson gala.” Everyone applauded and Jeff waited for the cheers to die down before continuing.
“It’s always a pleasure to stand before you at this annual bipartisan event that brings us together as a reminder of the mutual goals we are all looking toward—bettering this great nation. Two years ago I stood before you as your opening speaker, and the Jefferson-Jackson committee has once again honored me by asking me to speak before our esteemed keynote speaker.”
Liz saw Chelsea lean into Brady and whisper, “Your father seems to get better and better at this every year.”
Brady smiled politely and nodded. “All the practice.”
“Are we going to be able to have a word after dinner?” she asked.
“As promised,” he agreed.
“Perfect.” Chelsea retreated from Brady and crossed her hands over each other in her lap.
With the hustle and bustle of the last three weeks on the campaign trail, Liz had forgotten about the dinner meeting with Chelsea that had been canceled. She had been relieved at the time that she got to continue with her little striptease, but was back to being curious about the lobbyist’s role in the political side of the campaign.
If Brady took the money from the company, how obligated was he to work with their interests? She knew that lobbying companies held a lot of influence. They swayed politicians one way or another with tactics from expensive dinners to just being downright annoying.
Brady’s father finished his speech to the sound of applause and then dinner was served. Brady ordered drinks from a passing waiter, and a glass of red wine was placed in front of Liz shortly afterward.
“So, Brady,” the man to her right said. “How is life in Congress?”
“Exceptional. We’re fighting the good fight.”
“And that education bill you’ve been working on—do you think that will come to the floor?” another man asked.
Brady had been working pretty extensively on a bill in the education committee that did a number of things, including lowering student loan interest rates for college students and removing fees for underprivileged students to apply to college and take standardized tests. Liz knew that ideally Brady wanted to include something that scaled back some of the mandates on teachers that put all the emphasis on test taking and less on applied learning, but he wasn’t sure if he could get that through Congress.
“We’re working on it right now,” Brady said vaguely.
“Getting stalled in the Rules Committee?” the first guy asked.
“Just waiting to get it on the calendar. I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble once it’s there.” Brady’s confidence about his projects oozed from every pore. She knew that when he was alone he had his doubts, but everyone was entitled to them. Brady just couldn’t allow his to show in public.
“Well, I think education reform is essential,” the wife of the second speaker spoke up. She was in her early fifties and strikingly beautiful, with short brown hair and long earrings that dangled to her shoulders. “Have you seen some of the things on the news right now? They say we have the highest test scores and grade point averages for incoming classes, and yet retention rates are down. I think this starts in the primary schools, and once professors get ahold of these students it’s almost beyond their repair.”