Off the Record (Record #1)(28)

Liz shut down her laptop and stuffed it into her backpack. She had been working too hard, trying to drown out the inexplicable feeling of longing that had taken residence in her body. With Victoria gone for the summer, Liz was practically living at the office to escape the quiet.

She took one last glance around the office to make sure she had everything before shouldering her bag and leaving. She fumbled around for the light switch on the wall to illuminate the open office space. Just when she found it, she heard the phone ring in Hayden’s office.

No one ever rang the paper this late. Turning back into the office, she grabbed the phone and answered, “Hello?”

“Hello, I’m trying to reach Liz Dougherty, please,” a woman’s voice said through the line.

Liz’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. That was even stranger. People asked for a specific reporter only under rare circumstances. Hayden was asked for frequently, because everyone on campus knew who he was. Usually it was in relation to an article the reporter had written or requesting a follow up or, as with most of them, a friend who couldn’t reach the person on their cell phone. But Liz had never been asked for by name.

“Um…yes, this is Liz. Who is calling? It is after hours,” she reminded the woman. Though how she couldn’t know that it was midnight was beyond her.

“This is Heather Ferrington, chief press secretary with State Senator Brady Maxwell.”

Liz’s mouth dropped open. Was she serious? When she had left Brady’s hotel room last weekend, she had been certain it was the last she would hear from him. He got what he wanted from her, and though he said he would reach out to her again, she hadn’t really believed him.

“Miss Dougherty, are you still there?” Heather asked.

Liz snapped out of her daydream. “Yes, I’m still here. How can I help you, Ms. Ferrington?”

“I’ve been informed that you are the contact for the campaign division of the paper; is that correct?” she asked in the most condescending fashion she could muster.

“I am.”

“We’ve spoken with the university and set up a time for the Senator to speak publicly about his leap into federal politics. We have very few trips planned for the summer, but Senator Maxwell is making it a priority to speak at his alma mater,” Heather told her.

Liz’s mind was working overtime. Brady was coming here. To her school. Well, their school. Whatever! He was going to be in Chapel Hill to give a speech. This certainly wasn’t a planned venue. The student body wasn’t a target audience for the local elections, even though Liz was desperately trying to get them more invested.

During the presidential election her freshman year, the campus had been a madhouse, but students simply hadn’t put in as much effort for the local politicians. Whether it was because they had a local representative at home (even though they lived at the school for at least nine months out of the year) or they were too busy with their social lives, it just wasn’t a priority. She could count on the two party organizations, the Campus Y, and a few other politically active groups on campus to spread the word on their own, but sometimes it felt as if she were hitting her head against a brick wall.

But if Brady was coming to campus and it wasn’t a planned venue for him, then he had to be doing it for a reason. And she couldn’t think that that reason was…her.

“The university has approved space and even encouraged us to consider doing a series about the upcoming election. We’re still considering that option, but as you are our contact at the campus paper, we wanted to let you know that this is an open press event. We won’t be taking questions until after the event closes, at Senator Maxwell’s request. We hope that you will be in attendance for this special occasion,” Heather said in the same condescending tone.

It hardly felt like a press request, more like a demand. Liz’s insides were squirming at the thought of seeing Brady again, but she wasn’t comfortable with this conversation. Who called after hours like this? If this was about Brady, then he could damn well call her himself.

“Thank you, Ms. Ferrington. We’ll take it under consideration. If you need to reach us again, please do call during office hours. We typically aren’t working this late,” Liz answered diplomatically.

“Look, Miss Dougherty…” Heather said impatiently. Liz was waiting for her to humph on the other end of the line. “Senator Maxwell’s time is limited, and he’s coming to the university. If your paper isn’t interested in covering a prominent local official, I’d be happy to reach out to Chapel Hill News.”

Liz held back the immediate bitchy retort that was hanging on the tip of her tongue. Did this woman think it was appropriate to bully a newspaper?

She took a deep breath before replying. “We would be happy to have Chapel Hill News on campus, of course. Please send over the details for the event, and a reporter will be in attendance. Thank you for informing us of this great opportunity,” she said as cheerfully as possible.

“Wonderful, Miss Dougherty. Glad we’re on the same terms. I’ll shoot an email over to you with the details. Look forward to meeting you then.”

“You too, Ms. Ferrington,” Liz said as she hung up the phone. She had already met Heather once before, two weeks earlier. She wondered whether Heather would remember her, whether she knew that Liz had slept with Brady—if Heather herself had slept with Brady. No. She didn’t want to think about that. She had spent too much time thinking about Brady Maxwell already. Most of it wondering whether she was ever going to see him in person again, or if she would be left with his shots on her computer screen.