11
Backroom Dealing
“I’m sorry, you want what?”
If I hadn’t been so nervous, I probably would’ve appreciated the sight of Logan’s unflappable chief of staff struggling to wrap her mind around my request, blinking at me from the other side of a dingy coffee table in a back office at the Texas Antique Car Society headquarters. But since I was exceedingly nervous, I just gulped and forced myself to sit straighter, lest Nora interpret any slumped posture as a sign of weakness. Lee had said to show my spine, after all.
“It’s really quite simple,” I said. “All I’m asking is—”
The door to the room flew open. “Oi, Nora,” Logan boomed. “This time you’ve gone too far. I don’t understand why I had to show so much skin—” He rounded the corner, caught sight of me, and froze. Cary, following close behind, ran into Logan’s back and bounced off.
“Hey, what the heck?” Cary glared at Logan, rubbing his jaw, then registered me. “Oh. It’s you. Fake girlfriend.”
“What are you doing here?” Logan hastily rebuttoned his dress shirt, which, when open, had showed a tantalizing hint of his chest that made me recall the hotel suite, when he’d stripped while striding to me. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
I swept my gaze to his shoes. Safer territory. “I came to tell you what I want for my blank check request.”
“And it’s a doozy.” Nora waved a hand at the mismatched furniture around the coffee table. “You should sit. But first, since you obviously need reminding, I told you members of the Antique Car Society are older, upper-income constituents with lots of time on their hands. Eighty-five percent voted in the last election. They’re a uniquely engaged population and they appreciate an attractive package. You may not be an antique car, but with that second button undone, you’re a package I can sell.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Logan revved their engines.” Cary flopped onto the armchair next to mine and grinned gleefully.
Logan glowered at him. “You know, it was going pretty well. I actually got some decent questions about my retirement reforms in the Q and A. And then the meet and greet started and they mobbed me like I was ’61 Ferrari. I can still feel the phantom hands patting my bum. Pretty sure the words Aren’t you a nice-looking young man, would you like to meet my granddaughter? are going to haunt my dreams tonight.” He sighed and sank next to Nora on the love seat, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. My gaze drifted down his exposed throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, until I realized what I was doing and forced my eyes away.
It was still surreal that less than a week ago, I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off this man in an elevator. The memories kept surfacing at the most inopportune moments. Like this one. The mere sight of Logan’s throat cracked the veneer of my professionalism, causing a hot eruption of longing, a flashback to what it felt like to touch him. It reminded me that I knew the way he tasted, how it felt to be pressed against his chest, the sound of his breath coming shallow and fast, even if none of it would happen again.
One-night stands—even unfinished ones—were a hell of a drug.
“Is it normal for people to be all over you at events?” I asked Logan, trying to distract myself. I hadn’t anticipated running for office would be so much like being a Beatle. Lee had been popular, sure—she’d won her race—but no one had ever mobbed her.
“No,” Logan muttered, his eyes still closed. “Ask Cary why this time was different.”
Cary crossed one leg over the other, nonplussed. “Yeah so, I’m trying to turn Logan into a sex symbol. It’s my contribution to the campaign. I’ve made a ton of headway with people over sixty—don’t ask me why, maybe it’s Logan’s curmudgeon factor. I figured the car society was the perfect place to test his appeal. I might have...you know, hyped the crowd a bit too much in the meet and greet line. In my defense, I forgot how handsy straight people could be.”
“Remind me to fire you later,” Logan sighed.
Nora shook her head. “That’s the third firing this week, Mr. Berry. A new record.”
Cary chuckled, then noticed me staring. “What?”
“Your name is Cary Berry?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t see me making fun of your name, Alex-but-make-it-more-complicated.”
Logan opened an eye and smirked at me. “Drives him nuts when I call him by his full name out on the soccer field. The rhyme just rolls off the tongue.”
Cary sighed. “I still find it outrageous that my personal assistant role has been grossly inflated to include soccer companionship.”
Like the two were in a ping-pong match, I turned to Logan, but he only shrugged. “I had to drop out of my league when the campaign started. Cary said he’d play whenever I needed to blow off steam. The guy’s got no one to blame but himself.”
“Yes,” Cary said dryly. “Don’t you love it when you make ridiculous promises in a job interview and then you’re forced to actually fulfill them?”
Nora tapped her watch. “And that’s your two minutes allotted to nonsense. Alexis, go ahead and tell Logan what you told me.”
Huh. Logan must emit some sort of hypnotic gravitational field, because whenever I was near him, it didn’t matter if I was about to face down reporters or make a high-stakes sales pitch: it was too easy to get sucked into his orbit and forget about everything else, including my fear. Switching gears, I clasped my hands primly on my knees and tried to summon a sense of authority. Best to just launch into what I’d rehearsed and ignore the heat blooming everywhere Logan’s dark eyes trailed.
“In the last decade,” I began, “the legislature has made cuts to the education budget that have resulted in a tremendous blow to the workforce. The number of staff employed in public schools has dropped twenty-five percent in the last five years alone, which in turn has resulted in larger class sizes, less individual attention for students, lower college admissions rates, decreased access to libraries, music classes, and art trainings, and a deeply demoralized teaching body. And it has disproportionately impacted low-income communities and communities of color.” I wasn’t Lee by any means—I lacked her rhetorical swagger—but I had always been able to count on research. I hoped Logan and his team would find the facts and figures compelling enough. “Word is the legislature’s gearing up to cut again, and if the other schools in the state are anything like mine, every teacher feels like the apocalypse is nigh.”
“The budget is something legislators are responsible for,” Nora said. “Not us.”
“Yes, but governors endorse or reject budgets in the end. So Logan has a bully pulpit.” Thank God I hadn’t glazed over the last time Lee vented so I could impress them with the term bully pulpit.
“What exactly are you proposing?” Logan was frowning. I couldn’t tell if he was deep in thought or deeply skeptical.
I took a steadying breath. “That we promise to not only stop the next budget cut, but reverse it. I want to fight for an increase in funding to hire more teachers and staff, and give everyone who works in schools a modest pay raise. At least enough so they can afford the classroom supplies they pay for out of their own pockets.”
“I’m sorry, Alexis.” In yet another sharp suit tonight—this time electric blue—and with her locs pulled into an immaculate French braid, Nora radiated the authority I was striving for. “It’s not that I don’t think it’s a worthwhile cause. But putting aside the fact that doing anything to the state budget is wildly complicated, and that we’ve already chosen our policy priorities, it’s a conflict of interest. Logan can’t campaign for an increase in funding that would directly benefit his girlfriend.”
“He’s not,” I said. “I’m going to campaign for it.”
She blinked at me.
“Um, I’m sorry.” Cary leaned closer. “What was that now?”
“I want my own platform.” I sat up as straight as I could in the lumpy armchair. “I understand you’ll have to crunch the numbers and figure out exactly what we can promise. And that I would be using your campaign to advocate for something that benefits me personally. But so what? Corporations hire lobbyists to fight for them all the time.” I thought of Gia’s sad eyes in the teacher’s lounge, Muriel’s fear that, even after devoting forty years, her head could be next on the chopping block. “The people making decisions about education should have expertise in it, and who has more than us? Why shouldn’t we stick up for ourselves?”
I realized I was breathing a little too heavily, so I forced myself to relax. “If you agree to adopt this position, you’ll rally educators to your side. And if you have educators on your side, I promise: the campaign will be unstoppable.”
It was the closest I’d ever come to giving my own speech. My heart was beating very fast. I resisted the urge to watch their reactions from behind my hands.
“Okay, Rudy.” Cary whistled. “Way to become everyone’s favorite underdog and unexpectedly clinch the game.” He turned to Logan. “Coincidentally, still the only movie to ever make my dad cry.”
“We can’t do it.” Nora leaned forward. “We’d have to redo our budget proposal. Talk to other constituent groups. Consult policy experts.” She shook her head at me. “You were supposed to want us to make you a TikTok influencer or put in a good word with your principal. Hell, I even looked up how to get Beyoncé to come back to Texas in case you wanted to meet her. I never imagined...” She shook her head, but this time, turned to Logan. “At best, it’ll look like you’re grasping. At worst, it’ll look like you’re letting your girlfriend dictate your politics, and that’ll make you look weak. Either way, you’ll face the same dilettante accusations we’ve worked so hard to avoid.”
“I’m sorry you see downsides,” I said carefully, heart skipping. I never disagreed with people out loud. “But this is what I’m asking for. If you want me to be Logan’s girlfriend, the campaign needs to stand up for educators. And I get to use my voice.”
Silence fell around the coffee table. I tried and failed not to sweat, feeling a misty dampness creep down my back. Finally, Logan cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. As blunt as he could be sometimes, I was learning that when it came to making hard choices, he tended to stand back and listen before talking. It seemed like a good, though possibly unusual quality in a politician.
He met my eyes, and—oh. In this moment, there was no pretending that being looked at by Logan—really looked at—didn’t simultaneously freeze me and make my insides soar. I could only hope the effect would fade with time.
“Fuck me,” he said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Of course we’ll do it. It’s the right thing to do. Should’ve thought of it from the beginning.”
“Logan.” Nora’s voice was sharp, but her censure was tempered by her obvious surprise. A feeling I shared. Logan had just said yes to making a major change for me. And even though I’d asked for it, a persistent noise was now humming in the back of my mind that sounded suspiciously like the words He’s doing what? Reverse! on loop.
He removed his hands from his face and knocked on the coffee table, one short, decisive rap. “Cary, will you call those economics guys first thing tomorrow? We need them to look at the numbers and find a way.”
Cary nodded smoothly. “Sure thing, boss.”
Logan turned to Nora and braced his hands on his knees. “People won’t think I’m weak, Nor. I promise. They’ll think I’m strong for dating someone smart and passionate, who cares enough about her work that she’s willing to go to bat. It’s the decision I’d make if Alexis and I were really dating, so it’s what I should do now.”
Nora looked like she was about to say something, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but then her eyes flitted between Logan and me and she seemed to come to a decision. “All right. If that’s the way you want to play it.”
“Thank you.” Logan turned to me. “And of course you should own the issue. You’re the expert and my partner.” He rose, running his hands down his slacks. “I mean, you know, as far as the world is concerned.”
I jumped to my feet and turned to include Nora and Cary. “I swear I won’t let you down.”
This was really happening. This year, I wasn’t going to hide my head in the sand and hope someone else fought the budget cuts. I was going to do it myself.
Oh, God: I was going to do it myself. On second thought, I didn’t know how to fight. And I hated the spotlight. I didn’t even like meeting strangers’ eyes in the grocery store. I felt an immediate gut-punch of regret.
“Have dinner with me,” Logan blurted, snapping me out of my spiral. Everyone’s heads whipped to him. “If we’re going to merge platforms,” he continued, voice softening, “I want to hear more of your thoughts.”
Our eyes locked. “That makes sense.” I spoke slowly, testing the words. “Like a business dinner.” This was good. We’d talk shop, figure out details together. But when Logan smiled and those small commas framed his dark eyes, my mind ran footage of him ushering the svelte Rockets cheerleader into a private car, topped with a flashing neon sign that said: Like a date.
“Excellent idea.” Nora stood and whipped out her phone. “A public outing. Something frothy so we can warm the public to Alexis before she starts campaigning. I’ll get reservations for this weekend and call my guy.”
“Nora,” Logan growled. “This isn’t a PR stunt. No photos.”
“Sure thing.” She put her hands up in mock surrender as she strolled to the door. “Like I said, if that’s the way you want to play it. You’re the boss.” But as she passed me, she winked, and I had the feeling that was not, strictly speaking, the truth.