On the Record (Record #2)(73)
Author: K.A. Linde

“Ex-boyfriend,” Liz snapped. “And I don’t care. I just need to see him. We have to be able to fix it. There has to be a way.”

“Why don’t you stop and think for a second? Think about what happens if I take you to my parents’ house, and you walk into that lockdown war zone. You’re not just talking to Brady. You’re talking to my parents, his staff, Savannah, everyone. Tell me you want to walk into that.”

“Did you not hear me? I. Don’t. Care. I need to see him.”

“You’re insane. You think anyone is going to let you near him when they find out that you’re Sandy Carmichael? What happened in October anyway? You flipped out over that,” Clay observed.

“Nothing,” she answered immediately. He just raised an eyebrow. “Fine. I saw him again, but nothing happened and we parted ways.”

“Parted ways. Knowing my brother, I doubt that went over well,” Clay said. “Okay, so tell me this then. Why did you agree to see me? Why didn’t you speak to him before? And don’t give me some bullshit about his girlfriend, because I don’t think anyone thought she actually mattered.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to take you there?” he asked.

Liz glared at him. “You’re such an ass**le.”

“What you see is what you get, babe.”

“He told me not to speak to him again,” Liz said softly. She hated admitting it out loud. Brady’s angry words still echoed through her mind all these months later.

“And you’re going to anyway? Don’t you think he said it for a reason?”

“Yes, I do. I think he said it because he was angry, and he had every right to be. But I clearly don’t care anymore.” Liz brushed past him and started for the door.

“Where are you going?” he cried, following her down the hall.

“I told you that I’d walk home if you didn’t take me,” she said stubbornly.

Clay humphed behind her. “You can’t go tramping through the woods in a minidress and heels.”

“Try to stop me!”

Liz made it halfway down the driveway in the middle of the woods, at night, freezing her ass off when she heard the soft hum of the Porsche behind her. The headlights flashed as Clay approached. He rolled down the passenger window and stared at her in frustration.

“Get in, crazy.”

She opened the door and sank back into the passenger seat. As soon as her door shut, Clay jolted the car forward.

She sighed as she relaxed. She had been determined to walk home, but realistically it had been a dumb move. She was relieved that Clay had given in and picked her up.

“Thank you,” Liz whispered.

“I’m not taking you to my parents’ house,” he said sullenly. “If you want to do something stupid, you can do it on your own.”

Liz nodded. She wasn’t surprised that Clay wouldn’t take her to Brady, and barging into the Maxwell house didn’t exactly sound like the best plan. It was just the first that had come to her. Perhaps the alcohol was still talking. She would have to find a better way to get to him.

“Um . . .” she began, biting her lip.

She didn’t say anything for a second and Clay asked, “What?”

“Do you think I could get Brady’s number from you?”

“I’m turning around,” he said, easing on the brakes.

“What? Why?”

“There is no reasoning with you.”

“With me? You’re the one who wanted to f**k me because I’d been with your brother.”

Clay shrugged. He slid open the compartment between their seats, placed his phone inside, and then purposefully shut it tight. “That makes more sense to me than giving you his phone number.”

“I only ever tried to reach him on the campaign line, and unless you think it’s a good idea to do that now, perhaps you should give me his personal,” she snapped. Well, besides the time she had used his personal line last year, but she had deleted that number and it did nothing to bring that up with Clay right now.

“You called him on the campaign line?” Clay asked, shaking his head. “For being smart, you two are f**king idiots.”

“Just get moving. I’ll figure it out myself,” she said, turning to face the window again.

A million scenarios ran through her mind on the drive back to her house. How the hell was she going to get hold of Brady? Her earlier tactic had always been to call the office, say she was Sandy Carmichael, and poof! Brady answered the phone. Well, she couldn’t call as Sandy now. And she doubted they would be taking any calls, especially not from reporters. She could make shit up about knowing who Sandy Carmichael was, but Liz was sure that would only get her as far as Heather. She didn’t trust Heather to get her through to Brady. She could have called Savannah, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for her friend to know that she had been with her brother, and with Clay not cooperating, she really didn’t have another choice.

Liz glanced down at the compartment that held Clay’s phone. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to get it out of there. But if there was another alternative, she wasn’t seeing one.

Clay shifted gears as he veered toward her house. Liz had to make up her mind. The worst thing that could happen was that he would notice her reaching for it. She could live with that.

She had been staring out the window most of the drive, and she slowly turned her body to face Clay. “Hey,” she whispered softly.

“Oh, are we talking again?” he asked.

“No need to be rude,” she said, leaning forward and resting her forearm on the center compartment. Most of her body covered the compartment so that when he was looking at the road, she was pretty sure the only thing he saw in his periphery were her br**sts spilling out of her tiny dress. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I can keep driving if this includes road head.”

Liz laughed melodically. Clay would always be Clay. She just needed to keep him entertained, keep him from seeing what she was planning.

“I don’t think so,” Liz said, pressing the button on the side of the compartment softly. “But I was kind of a bitch when I said that stuff about you and Brady.”

His eyes shifted to hers and she stopped moving. “I’m still not going to take you to see him, Liz.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Road head might convince me,” he said, his eyes darting back to the road.