She gives away nothing, pulling the phone backward with her. “He’s somewhere. Not too far probably. He never is.”
“I’m sure,” I mumble into the bottom of the glass.
She tilts her head with furrowed brows. “What?”
“Nothing. So tell me about the rally. Is it because of the debate?”
“I don’t know.” She sighs. “I think everyone’s panicking for no reason. I swear, if they’re not stressed, they’re not happy.”
“Carl, too.”
There’s a loud knock at Reagan’s door, and she glances up, turning white. “Hold on one second,” she says and places her finger against her lips. “Don’t say anything while I get rid of whoever this is. Okay?”
“On my word,” I tell her and make a cross over my heart.
When she climbs off the bed, the camera points toward the ceiling, giving me nothing to go off of, but I hear her hotel room door open.
“What do you want?”
“I thought we could talk,” a man says.
“Tom, I’m busy. Can we do this another time?” she tells him, and I press my face practically against the screen like I can see something even though I know I can’t.
The door closes, and I think he’s gone until he says, “Come on, don’t be that way. What else do you have to do tonight?” His voice is louder now; he must’ve moved closer to the phone.
“Tom, you need to leave. This is Lexi’s room too, and she wouldn’t be happy about you being in here.” Reagan’s voice sounds strained.
I put my finger over my camera in case Tom’s close enough to see her screen, but I can still hear everything. I’m holding my breath at this point, taking tiny puffs of air when I can without making a sound.
“She seemed pretty busy down in the dining room. I say we have at least ten minutes until she gets back. Don’t you want to catch up? I haven’t seen you in a long time.”
I hear an impact, skin on skin, but I don’t dare take my finger off the camera, no matter how badly I want to see what’s going on.
“Don’t touch me, Tom. Go. Get out before I have you removed from my campaign. When I say leave, I mean it.”
“You’re much different than the last time I saw you. What happened to the Reagan I knew?” I can hear the frustration in his voice. He came to her room looking for something, maybe he expected it to happen—maybe they already picked up where they left off years ago.
“I grew up. I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m a woman, and this is my campaign. You’re interrupting my time to relax. I’d appreciate it if you leave now, or I’ll have you removed from the campaign.”
His laugh is deep and deafening. “Don’t be stupid, Reagan. You need me. That’s why I’m here.”
The sound of heavy footsteps followed by the door is all I hear for a moment.
“Out.” Her voice is louder this time, more commanding. “Don’t ever come to my room unless you’re invited.”
“Reagan,” he says, and his voice trails off. I move the phone closer to my ear, trying to hear what he says, but I hear nothing.
Moments later, the door closes and the phone jostles, my view changing to the shitty blue comforter on the bed. “Sorry,” she says, grimacing as she picks up the phone and looks into the camera.
“No problem.” I say nothing else and wait for her to start the conversation. Maybe she’ll fill me in on their past. Maybe she’ll actually confide in me.
Her eyes dart toward the door briefly, and she takes a deep breath. “How much did you hear?”
“Not much,” I lie. “Who was it?”
“Tom,” she says his name with a sour look on her face. “He wanted to talk strategy.”
The moment the lie trickles from her tongue, my stomach knots. “He’s like Carl. He could talk strategy all day long and never get tired of it.”
