Party Lines by Fiona Wilde

away.
    Lindsay
felt her face flush with warmth. Was he correct? Was she overcompensating? Or
was she – as she suspected – pushing the limits to see whether he
would enforce them. If that was the case, she’d obviously pushed too far.
     
    ***
     
    “I
should never have agreed to do that damn forum.” Bradford Hopkins could not get
his tie off fast enough once he and Ron had gotten in the cab. “That whole
audience was in her pocket the entire time. And it didn’t help that I was sweating
like a pig. And what was up with that mouthy little bitch managing Clara’s
campaign, taking a dig at me like that. Little brat. The first thing I’m going
to do when we win is laugh right in her face.”
    Ron
looked out the window so his candidate wouldn’t see his irritated expression.
Hopkins was right; Lindsay had indeed been bratty. But he felt a surge of
defensiveness at Hopkins’ words for the woman he’d spend so much time with the
night before. It was one thing for him to suggest she was being bitchy; it was
quite another to have Hopkins call her a bitch. It suddenly occurred to him
that Lindsay had been right. His candidate was a phony, and for the first time
he was wondering if the voters weren’t seeing through him.
    “She
was just trying to unnerve you,” Sharp said dismissively.
    “Well
pardon me if that assessment doesn’t make me feel better,” Hopkins said. “Especially
since it had the desired effect. I don’t like her, Ron. I don’t like her at
all. In fact, I’m beginning to think that she’s too effective a weapon for
Clara to have gotten her hands on. I don’t know where this Lindsay Martin came
from or what her game is, but something’s going to have to be done about her.”
    “What
do you mean?” Sharp felt a wave of apprehension.
    “I
mean I want you to put some time into finding some dirt on that little bitch,”
Hopkins said, ignoring his campaign manager’s frown. “I don’t care what it is -
past affairs, embarrassing photographs, traffic tickets – anything.”
    Ron
shook his head. “I’m pretty sure Clara vetted her before she hired her,” he
said. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, I have a campaign to run.”
    Hopkins
scoffed. “Instead of looking at this as a campaign to run you need to be
looking at this as an election to win. Now, Clara’s got an ace in the hole with
that girl and I’m sick and tired of her.”
    Now
it was Sharp’s turn to feel indignant. “Now listen, Bradford. You need to get a
grip. Lindsay Martin may have gotten under your skin, but she was just doing
her job. If I’d done the same thing to Clara you’d be patting me on the back
for it and you know it.”
    “Don’t
you dare take that tone with me.” Hopkins was red-faced and Ron Sharp found
himself taken aback by the man’s demeanor. “You’re forgetting who the boss is
here. What the hell, Ron? You like this girl or something?”
    “Don’t
be ridiculous,” Ron said. “I just think you need to calm down.”
    “Driver,
pull over. I’ll get out here.” Hopkins sat forward in his seat as the car
slowed in front of the exclusive social club to which he belonged. “Now I’m
going to take your advice and go have a drink. I’ll see you in the morning, and
when I do I expect you to have some dirt Clara’s manager. It’ll get her out of
the way and take some of the steam out of her the Faircloth campaign.”
    He
hefted himself out of the car and Ron Sharp sat there, stunned, as he watched
him go. Things were getting more complicated by the moment, and for the first
time in his life the man who usually had all the answers didn’t know quite what
to do.
    ***
    The
car arrived promptly at eight. Lindsay had no idea where Ron intended to take
her or what she should wear, so she chose a simple black dress and low heels.
She wore her hair pulled back in a mother-of-pearl clasp and finished the
outfit off with a light wrap and small clutch handbag.
    The
driver said nothing to her beyond a