kiss on my cheek. “You can do this, Joe. You’ve spent your entire life preparing for this.”
I looked down at her face, numb inside.
“We’ll get through this. Together.” She slipped her hand in mine, pulling me into the room.
Years of instinct and practice from working undercover kicked in.
Showtime.
The corners of my mouth lifted into a smile my heart didn’t feel like giving, and I greeted the first couple I came to, offering my hand. “Hi. I’m Joe Simmons and I’d like your support for the Arkansas State Senate.”
Part Three
Joe
Chapter Nine
Two weeks later
I looked out the window of the motel room, twisting a glass in my hand.
My father stood behind me, delivering a monologue that had turned into a nonsensical mash of words in my inebriated state. I tried to read the motel sign in the parking lot to jog my memory. What town was I in? I’d lost track days ago.
“Did you hear me?” his voice broke through my muddled thoughts.
I blinked, keeping my gaze out the window. “Hear what?”
“Have you heard a damned thing I’ve said?”
My hand tightened around the glass, the ice cubes clicking against the sides. “No.”
He cursed for several seconds. “And that attitude is exactly why you’re losing in the polls, Joe. You have to step up your game.”
Step up my game . That meant I had to actually give a damn, which I didn’t. “Fine.”
“Have you even prepared for this town hall meeting in Preston?”
Preston. So that’s where we were, not that it really mattered. These meetings were all the same. I shrugged. “What’s there to prepare for? I’ll pull out the Joe Simmons charm and have the votes of women age eighteen to fifty all tied up and in the bag.”
“That’s not going to work in Preston. You’ll be facing a group of irate farmers wanting to know what kind of subsidies you’re going to vote for once you get into office.”
“So answer this two-part question for me, Dad.” I turned to face him with a sneer. “One, what subsidies will I promise them, and two, what subsidies will I actually vote for? Because, obviously this is your dog-and-pony show. I’m just the front man.”
A low growl rumbled from his chest. “You need to act like you give a damn, Joe.”
“See?” I turned and held out my glass toward him, extending a wavering finger. “ That was where you screwed up. You should have made sure I actually gave a damn in the first place.”
His eyes hardened. “Have you been drinking all afternoon?”
I gave him an ugly smile, holding out my glass. “Guilty as charged.”
His face reddened, and he looked like he was about to have a stroke. As if I could be so lucky. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I can’t face another freaking day on the campaign trail with Daddy Dearest without fortification.”
“ How drunk are you ?”
“Not drunk enough.”
My father stomped over and jerked the drink from my hand. “Have you really reverted to frat behavior?”
I reached for the glass, but he jerked it out of my reach, not difficult given my poor coordination. “That insinuates I actually partook in frat behavior. I was too busy studying to get good enough grades to get into Vanderbilt law school.”
“And then you didn’t even go there!” His voice boomed throughout the room.
I offered him my best smart-assed grin. “And there’s the burn. I got into Vanderbilt and I didn’t go. Score one for Joe.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to go on this trip down Memory Lane? You paint yourself as a martyr when you were an undergrad, but you sure as hell made up for it when you started law school in Little Rock. I can start listing your transgressions if you like, but it might take quite some time.”
My face heated with anger. “Why the hell not? Let’s go for broke, right here in some piss-ant motel in some hell-hole town. Let’s just get it all out in the open. Why
I looked down at her face, numb inside.
“We’ll get through this. Together.” She slipped her hand in mine, pulling me into the room.
Years of instinct and practice from working undercover kicked in.
Showtime.
The corners of my mouth lifted into a smile my heart didn’t feel like giving, and I greeted the first couple I came to, offering my hand. “Hi. I’m Joe Simmons and I’d like your support for the Arkansas State Senate.”
Part Three
Joe
Chapter Nine
Two weeks later
I looked out the window of the motel room, twisting a glass in my hand.
My father stood behind me, delivering a monologue that had turned into a nonsensical mash of words in my inebriated state. I tried to read the motel sign in the parking lot to jog my memory. What town was I in? I’d lost track days ago.
“Did you hear me?” his voice broke through my muddled thoughts.
I blinked, keeping my gaze out the window. “Hear what?”
“Have you heard a damned thing I’ve said?”
My hand tightened around the glass, the ice cubes clicking against the sides. “No.”
He cursed for several seconds. “And that attitude is exactly why you’re losing in the polls, Joe. You have to step up your game.”
Step up my game . That meant I had to actually give a damn, which I didn’t. “Fine.”
“Have you even prepared for this town hall meeting in Preston?”
Preston. So that’s where we were, not that it really mattered. These meetings were all the same. I shrugged. “What’s there to prepare for? I’ll pull out the Joe Simmons charm and have the votes of women age eighteen to fifty all tied up and in the bag.”
“That’s not going to work in Preston. You’ll be facing a group of irate farmers wanting to know what kind of subsidies you’re going to vote for once you get into office.”
“So answer this two-part question for me, Dad.” I turned to face him with a sneer. “One, what subsidies will I promise them, and two, what subsidies will I actually vote for? Because, obviously this is your dog-and-pony show. I’m just the front man.”
A low growl rumbled from his chest. “You need to act like you give a damn, Joe.”
“See?” I turned and held out my glass toward him, extending a wavering finger. “ That was where you screwed up. You should have made sure I actually gave a damn in the first place.”
His eyes hardened. “Have you been drinking all afternoon?”
I gave him an ugly smile, holding out my glass. “Guilty as charged.”
His face reddened, and he looked like he was about to have a stroke. As if I could be so lucky. “What the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I can’t face another freaking day on the campaign trail with Daddy Dearest without fortification.”
“ How drunk are you ?”
“Not drunk enough.”
My father stomped over and jerked the drink from my hand. “Have you really reverted to frat behavior?”
I reached for the glass, but he jerked it out of my reach, not difficult given my poor coordination. “That insinuates I actually partook in frat behavior. I was too busy studying to get good enough grades to get into Vanderbilt law school.”
“And then you didn’t even go there!” His voice boomed throughout the room.
I offered him my best smart-assed grin. “And there’s the burn. I got into Vanderbilt and I didn’t go. Score one for Joe.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to go on this trip down Memory Lane? You paint yourself as a martyr when you were an undergrad, but you sure as hell made up for it when you started law school in Little Rock. I can start listing your transgressions if you like, but it might take quite some time.”
My face heated with anger. “Why the hell not? Let’s go for broke, right here in some piss-ant motel in some hell-hole town. Let’s just get it all out in the open. Why
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