“I noticed Neil an hour before he decided to walk into the spotlight. I was never in any real danger.”
Eliza felt her mouth going dry. “What?”
“You didn’t see Carter and Neil walk in? I can see how Carter might have entered unnoticed, but Neil? The man is built like one of those trucks on the interstate. Solid muscle.” Gwen lifted her left eyebrow and her glossy eyes from one to many beers glossed even more.
“You like Neil?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Not a denial. Interesting.
Eliza rubbed her hands over her face, smudging whatever makeup she had left. “Tonight was a huge mistake.”
“I disagree.”
“Carter is running for election, and he was just involved in a bar fight. Apparently photos are already circulating.” Eliza couldn’t help but hope she wasn’t in any of them.
“Oh… Oh!” It looked like Lady Gwen was finally getting a clear picture of the problem.
Eliza flopped on the couch, hands at her side. “It’s all my fault.”
Gwen sat beside her and placed a hand on her knee. “No. I’m just as guilty as you.”
The responsibility lay squarely on Eliza’s shoulders. Now the question was, how was she going to fix it?
****
With his head buried in his hands, Carter sat in front of his laptop with his campaign manager, Jay watching via Skype. “…and because Gwen Harrison was involved, you’ve even made the London papers and tabloids. We’re screwed.”
I need to fix this.
“Nobody wants a bar brawling, single man in office. They don’t mind adultery and drug use, but fighting in the bar parking lot—not gonna work.”
“There’s got to be something we can do.” He was planning to officially announce his candidacy in less than two weeks. One night of protecting a woman’s honor, and all his life plans were shot out of the stratosphere. “How soon should I do a press conference?”
“And tell the reporters what exactly? That you were in a bar drinking—”
“I wasn’t drinking.”
“How long were you in the bar?”
“An hour.”
“And you weren’t drinking?” Jay’s sarcastic tone laced his words.
“I nursed one drink.” He’d sipped on one beer so he didn’t appear to be spying on Eliza.
Jay huffed out a breath. “Like I said, you were in a bar drinking. Picking up women—”
“I did not.”
“The pictures I saw were with you standing next to a dark haired sex-is-my-middle-name woman.”
“That was Eliza. Samantha’s best friend. After the fight I drove her home, Neil drove Gwen,” he defended.
“I don’t think the papers are going to care whose friend she is. Listen, Carter, they’re going to say you were there drinking—which isn’t a lie, you picked up a chick—which isn’t a lie, and you bloodied a man’s face—which isn’t a lie.”
Carter was a hair away from saying, but he started it. How high school could he be?
“When is Blake’s party?”
“Two days.”
“Stay low, and watch who you talk to. Maybe some of this will blow over, and we’ll figure out how to handle it.”
Carter rubbed the growing tension in the back of his neck. “Ignoring this isn’t going to make it go away.”
“No, but what choice do we have? Unless it’s you walking down that aisle tomorrow, or within the next week, I’m not sure how we’re going to turn you into a trusting family man ready to take office. The image of the bar brawl isn’t going away. The best we can do is cover it up or make it out to be some kind of heroic gesture. Even then, it’s going to be an uphill battle.”
The image of Kathleen, his date for the wedding, swam in his mind.
Marriage? Not gonna happen.
“There has to be something we can do.”
“I’ll consult with some of my friends in D.C. They deal with this kind of thing all the time.”
“Call me.”
“I will. Oh, and Carter?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay out of redneck bars.”
Carter ended the call and tossed the phone on the bed.
He was so screwed.
Chapter Four
The dress was even hotter than she thought it would be. The yellow didn’t add to Eliza’s pasty complexion, the one she’d worn daily since the infamous bar brawl.
“You look…sweet,” Sam said, her eyes shifting from Eliza to Gwen and back again.
“Like icing on a cake.” Only the inside of the cake was bitter and tart. The thought of facing Carter as they walked up the aisle left her nauseous. Where were her snarky attitude and her quick comebacks when she needed them?
“At least the temperature dropped,” Gwen said, optimistic to the core.
“By what, five degrees?” Eliza swept open the silly fan and used it.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Mrs. Hawthorn poked her head in. “Oh, don’t you girls look lovely.”
Eliza refrained from snorting. Sam’s dress was equally ridiculous, but at least it was white. Mrs. Hawthorn obviously needed her eyes examined. Only Gwen appeared to wear the gown, and the yellow, well.
“Are the men ready?”
“They are, they are. Can I tell them to play the music?”