24 Inches (Size Matters 2)

"That's incorrect," I say. "She's my stepdaughter and—"

The red-faced reporter cuts me off before I can get another word in. "Wouldn't you agree that having personal relations with your stepdaughter sends the wrong message to citizens?"

"Well, that's not what—" I try to say, adjusting the microphone, but am cut off again.

"Isn't it against state rules to be undergoing such an affair within the walls of Gracie Mansion? Not to mention, don't you agree it's morally corrupt?"

"No comment," I say, trying to move on. This is going downhill fast. This definitely isn't where I wanted our discussion to go today.

"Mr. Trask, just answer the question," the reporters continue to chime in.

"I repeat, I won't be answering personal questions. We should remain focused on the real issues."

"But Mr. Trask, what are you really hiding from the citizens of New York City? Why won't you simply answer our questions?"

"This press conference is over," I say, raising a hand to the crowd. I realize there's no use trying to steer a sinking ship.

I can hear boos from the crowd, and a jumble of questions still rumbling through the reporters. But I wave them off and walk backstage, joining Megan and Amy.

I wipe a thin line of sweat that I didn't even realize had begun to gather on my forehead.

"Well, that felt like being lowered into shark-infested waters inside of a chum bucket," I say, looking at Megan and Amy. "Fuck, that crowd was out for blood. I couldn't get a word in."

Megan's pacing back and forth, and her confidence seems to have faded faster than a new pair of jeans.

"What's wrong?" I ask her, concern growing on my face. "I know this press conference didn't go as planned, but I have a feeling there's something you aren't fucking telling me."

With that, she looks up, holding my gaze and says, "I hate to say it, but we have bigger problems."

"Bigger fucking problems?" I ask, eyes wide. I honestly can't think of anything worse than this press conference.

"It's Susan Duran," she says. "She was seen going into the Governor's campaign office Downtown."

I look over at Amy.

She's standing next to Megan and nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the next. I've never seen her look so nervous.

"Don't worry," I tell Amy, placing the palm of my hand gently against her cheek. When I do that, she walks over and rests her head on my chest.

"Whatever comes … we'll face it together," I say.

Amy

“Her poll numbers have been climbing steadily,” I sigh, waving at the stack of papers in front of me with a frown. His staff provided us with the last analysis on the Senate race and, despite Parker's numbers being as solid as ever, my mom is just snapping at our heels.

It’s been a week since Susan left.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he frowns, peering over my shoulder at the graph in front of me. We’ve been pouring over these documents for the last half an hour and, even though we haven’t said it out loud, we both know that with the numbers my mom is pulling right now, all she needs to do is use the relationship Parker and I have to secure her position in the polls. Which means that we have a sword hanging over our necks, and no idea when it’s coming down to cut off both of our heads.

“Still, unless something major changes, I’d say you’re well on your way to secure the Senate,” I smile, swiveling the chair around so that I’m facing him. I’m trying to be optimistic, but it isn’t easy. Especially now that Susan jumped ship.

“Yeah, let’s focus on what we can do to --” Parker falls silent as someone knocks on the door to his office. “Yeah? Come in,” he says, and the door swings open to reveal a tall and slender woman wearing jeans and a loose blouse, her hair pulled into a messy bun, with a few strands of her curly hair framing her face. Megan Wright, the new campaign manager, doesn’t seem to really care about looking good; she just cares about getting the job done. Which, as far as I’m concerned, sounds perfect.

“I think you should turn on the TV,” she says to Parker, an excited smile on her face. Behind her, I see all of Parker’s staff huddled together in the center of the room, staring at one of the flat TVs mounted on the wall.

“Why? What happened?” I ask Megan as Parker reaches for the remote and, with one click, turns it on.

“See for yourself,” Megan smiles, and then simply slides out of the room with a grin and closes the door behind her, leaving Parker and I to see what’s going on.