Max was thirty-two at the time of the reunion. Karen instructed him to tell people he worked “at the State House, and if anybody asks what you do, you tell them it’s confidential.” It was one half of a lie, but Karen had a point. Why tell people he had a boring job as an auditor with the government? Saying it was “confidential” made it sound much more interesting. And so it began: Maxwell Hawthorne’s ability to bend the truth.
Max spotted Spencer Gerber, who also had a government job, but his was at a much higher level. Gerber was a junior senator, representing the state of Arizona. His future was a lock.
Max admired Spencer’s ambition, with a large dash of envy. Spencer was gregarious, a trait required to climb up the political ladder. He was glad-handing everyone in the room. One would have thought it was a reception solely for his benefit. Max wondered if Gerber would remember him from school. He should have, considering Max wrote most of Gerber’s papers. Granted, Gerber paid Max, but that didn’t mean Max was anywhere on Spencer’s radar. If anything, Gerber would wish Max had nothing to hold over his head. Then again, cheating in Washington, D.C. was standard practice.
Gerber strode over to where Max was standing. He gave Max a “good old boys” greeting: “Hey man! How ya doin?” he said while slapping Max on the back, and then shaking his hand.
Karen, across the room, abruptly dropped the conversation she was having and moved faster than lightning toward the two men. “Spencer Gerber. Or should I say Senator Gerber?” She batted her three-hundred-dollar eyelashes.
“Karen Whytecliff. You are as beautiful as ever.”
“You were always a sweet talker,” she said in her best coquettish voice.
“Looks like you are treating our Maxwell very well.” Spencer placed his hand on Max’s shoulder.
“I do my best,” she flirted.
“Listen, I have something I’d like to discuss with Max. Would you mind if I steal him away for a few minutes?”
“And leave me to my little lonesome?” The words, as sweet as molasses, flowed from her glossy lips.
“I would be more concerned about everyone else in the room,” Gerber flirted back.
Max stood there, observing the blatant lack of respect the two had for him. He cleared his throat and then made light of the situation. “Would you like me to book a room for the two of you?”
“Oh, Max, don’t be a bore.” Karen hooked her arm through the crook of Gerber’s. “We are just being cheeky. Right, Spencer?”
Gerber laughed. “Well, you were the one that got away.” He gently disengaged himself from her grip. He remembered why he avoided her after their weekend tryst. She was more than a handful.
Max was perplexed, and was compelled to ask, “Did I miss something? I didn’t know the two of you were an item.”
“Not exactly an item,” Karen began to explain. “It was one of those spring break things. A little … okay, maybe a lot of drinking. It was a weekend fling. Right, Spence?” The familiarity with which she used the abbreviated version of his name was not lost on her husband.
Karen went on to add, “Besides, you and I weren’t an item until just before graduation.”
Max thought there was more to it but left it alone. He resisted the temptation to say “what-ever.”
“We’ll be right back.” Spencer patted her hand. “Try to behave yourself.”
Karen let out an audible sigh. “I’ll do my best. Don’t be too long, darling.”
Max wasn’t sure whom she was calling darling.
Spencer ushered Max toward the bar just outside the grand ballroom of the Hotel Duval. He ordered them both two fingers of Glenfiddich, a single malt scotch costing eighty-five dollars each. Max didn’t balk but hoped Spencer would pick up the tab. It was as if Spencer read Max’s mind when he said, “I’ve got this. Goes on the expense account. Official business.” Max wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was about to find out.
Spencer positioned himself so that no one was within earshot. “I’ve been working on The Hill for seven years. The first five were mostly figuring out who had the power. After I turned thirty, I knew I was eligible to run for Senate, but I wanted to have the right people in my pocket. And visa-versa, of course. So, two years ago I began doing a soft campaign, feeling people out. Who would have my back and support my efforts.”
Max couldn’t resist saying, “Looks like you accomplished your goal.”
“Ah, my good man, that was simply step one.” He took a pull from his expensive drink. “I am working on a plan that will guarantee a very fine lifestyle for the next fifty years.”
“For the American people?” Max was being sincere.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Gerber smirked. “I was talking aboutmylifestyle.” Gerber leaned in closer. “But in order for it to work, I need a partner.”
“But I don’t have any money to invest in anything.”
“That’s not what I’m after, my friend.” He was close enough that Max could feel Gerber’s breath. “It’s no secret that Washington is rife with corruption.”
