Georgetown Academy, Season One Read online

  Two hours later, Brinley sat on the gilded antique canopy bed in her enormous bedroom, the long custom floral drapes at her picture windows pulled back and letting the moonlight in. She had already reorganized her shoes by designer, conducted further research on Taryn Reyes’s Twitter feed and read every article on the Drudge Report—she’d posted fifteen anonymous comments. She was just getting ready to survey her outfit options for that evening when the phone rang. Brinley hoped it was Ellie—now that the Adderall had kicked in and Brinley wasn’t so tense, she felt guilty about her outburst in the hallway that morning and was eager to put the drama behind them. However, when she looked to the nightstand to pick it up, she saw it was merely the internal line.

  “Miss Madison, what time would you like to leave?” D.D., her family’s chauffeur, asked her. Actually, his name was George, but seeing as he often served as her designated driver, Brinley had taken to calling him D.D. the last few years.

  Brinley looked at the clock—she hadn’t realized so much time had passed since she’d gotten home. Another seeming side effect of Adderall.

  “Miss Madison?”

  “I’m here. Nine should be fine.”

  Brinley hurdled herself over the tufted cream ottoman at the foot of her bed and into the large walk-in closet Ellie jokingly referred to as “the vault.” She ran her fingers across the soft Italian leather of the Ferragamo jacket she was considering wearing and debated what to pair with it. Her wardrobe was the one exception to her family’s “Buy American” rule. In general, Brinley loved the fact that her family had such rigid standards, casting a disdainful gaze on whoever chose to exit from a BMW in the school carpool line and flaunting her diamond, ruby, and sapphire American flag pin even on non-national holidays. She was proud to be an American, unlike some people at her school. But she had held firm to her father that the patriotic rule must be overturned as far as her fashion went. It was just too limiting. Thankfully, her mother was as sick of Michael Kors as she was and had agreed. Her father sent them on a jet to Paris fashion week the next month.

  Brinley smiled at the memory...until she stepped out of the vault and saw her older brother Brooks lounging on her ottoman, his long legs dangling off the edge, reading something on her phone. Even as he was being sneaky, Brooks still managed to look stately and dignified, with his perfectly combed, ridiculously thick hair and brilliant white teeth that had cost their parents a small fortune.

  “What are you doing?” Brinley asked, snatching her phone out of his hand before he could stop her. “Checking my messages without my permission? That’s unconstitutional.”

  Brooks flashed Brinley a condescending smile. “Actually, it’s not unconstitutional at all. Unless you know of some court precedent I’m not aware of.” Brinley rolled her eyes. Her brother, a senior at Georgetown Academy, had become almost unbearable since he had gained early admission to the pre-law program at Georgetown University. “I am curious, though,” he continued, his light brown eyes beating down on her. “Why are you spending so much time emailing and texting Nathan Wright?” Brinley’s stomach dropped. She was almost positive there was nothing specific in the texts, but her heart quickened at the possibility that there might be.

  “I’m doing a project with him,” she replied, her voice wavering.

  “Really, Brinley? With the school drug dealer? Who just happens to be a grade ahead of you? What class would that be?”

  “Photography, actually,” Brinley replied, not missing a beat, trying to keep from talking too fast. “The class has sophomores, juniors and seniors in it, and the ridiculous hippie who teaches the class took a break from growing weed in her backyard to assign me and Nathan to a group project.”

  Brooks gave her a long look, not quite buying it. His eyes darted down to the floor where Brinley realized she was tapping her left foot incessantly. She stopped.

  “Seriously, Brooks,” she pressed, trying to strike the perfect blend of snobby indifference. “You think there’s any other reason I would choose to contact someone so nouveau that he has to sell drugs on the side for cash?”

  Brooks surveyed her for a moment. “Most likely not. But Washington Life magazine is deciding which family to showcase in their President’s Day spread by the end of the week and I don’t want any personal drama you’ve fallen in to get in the way of us being chosen. If they pick us, it’ll be our sixth time, which is a record for any one family.” Like he needed to tell her that. Brinley had all five of their past covers framed right outside her bedroom door.

  “The editor told Mother we’re shoo-ins,” Brinley replied irritably. As much as she usually loved Brooks’s protectiveness when it came to his little sister and shielding the family name, now that she had something to hide, it was getting a tad bit annoying.

  “Let’s make sure it stays that way,” Brooks said seriously.

  “Fine. Can you go now? I need to get ready for the party.” Brinley grabbed his arms, trying to hustle him out of the room before he could snoop around any further. Brooks gave her one last look as he reached the door.

  “You’re a good liar, Brin. But not that good. I’m keeping my eye on you.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tuesday, 8:32pm.

  Ellie sat on the floor of her closet in sweats, stress-eating her way through a box of Wheat Thins. Gabe was back and there was nothing she could do about it. She was just going to have to suck it up and try to stay as far away from him as possible.

  She stared up at the impressive wardrobe she had amassed over the past two years. Her closet walls were no longer sparsely lined with only plain tees and sweaters, her old uniform from the days when she and Evan would have never gone to a rookie party. Now her collection of dresses, tops, and jeans stared menacingly back at her as if daring her to choose the wrong one for tonight. She needed Brinley.

  But they hadn’t spoken since Brinley snapped at her that morning , and Ellie, not a huge fan of confrontation, certainly wasn’t going to be the first to call. No matter how badly she needed Brinley’s help right now.

  Help… The cheat sheet! She jumped to her laptop and opened the Google spreadsheet Brinley had begun almost two years ago to help her match up each item of clothing in her closet. She remembered how considerate it was that Brinley had done this for her after befriending her only a few weeks before. It hadn’t been updated in a while, but it was color-coded, easy to follow, and it sure beat continuing this face-off with her wardrobe.

  She scanned down the sheet until she found the “Black Pants” section: Rag & Bone Black Skinnies, Tan Helmut Lang Asymmetrical Tank, Black Alexander Wang Booties, Milly Metallic Clutch. There was even an asterisk at the bottom, suggesting a brown smoky eye shadow to enhance the color of the tank. She smiled at the little detail, but it quickly faded. She hated fighting with her friends.

  Her phone buzzed on the desk next to her, the screen springing to life with a Google news update. She had set it up so she would know whenever there was a news story about her mom. She clutched the purple jelly cover and scrolled through the story. It was just a recap of tonight’s Today in Politics show, which had apparently rehashed the contentious history between her mother and Senator Mills. Ellie deleted the alert, refusing to turn the show on right now. It was Hunter’s favorite show, fueling his passion for politics, but by the end of every day, Ellie was so sick of D.C. she could barely make it through The Daily Show. Sometimes it was enough to make her want to escape to a small town in Nebraska. She couldn’t even bring herself to go with Hunter last week to an exclusive invite-only speaking engagement with the secretary of state. Instead, she spent the whole day roaming the halls of the National Gallery, losing herself for hours in seventeenth-century French paintings, almost forgetting she was in the city at all.

  “Ellie, I’m home!” She was startled by her mother’s voice. She looked at her watch—8:45. Her mom was rarely home before ten.

  “Be right down!”

  She quickly dressed and padded down the mahogany hardw
ood staircase that spiraled into the entryway of their colonial-style home. She found her mother in the office and was disappointed to see her hovered over a stack of papers with her chief-of-staff, Jasmine Beck, by her side. Jasmine was listening intently to something on her Blackberry. They both looked up when Ellie entered.

  “You look cute, sweetie. What’s the occasion?” her mother asked. Even after a fourteen-hour day, Marilyn Walker looked put-together. Her dark brown hair gleamed thanks to the Brazilian Blowouts she’d been getting and her makeup was somehow still intact. However, no amount of concealer could hide the bags under her eyes, which had gotten worse in the past few days, no doubt thanks to Richard Mills’s impending arrival.

  “Tonight’s the rookie party,” Ellie said, plopping down in the massive leather chair by her mother’s desk. By now, the chair was practically molded to her body as it was the one spot in the house where she could have conversations with her mom.

  “Right! I forgot about that,” Marilyn answered. “You look great.”

  Ellie smiled. Her mother was probably one of the few senators who had both The Economist and Vogue on her iPad. She had been thrilled when Ellie took an interest in fashion after the Vanity Fair piece came out two years ago, the event that single-handedly shifted everything in Ellie’s life. It was a feature about her mother, but at the last minute, they decided to include Ellie in the photo spread. The hair and make-up team had worked their magic with highlights, smoky eyes, a Dolce and Gabbana mini-dress and six-inch crystal embellished Louboutins, transforming her from an everyday girl into a model. Overnight, she went from a nobody to a somebody, catching the eye of many of the guys at G.A., including Hunter McKnight. The whole thing felt so long ago, though, and Ellie could barely remember what life had been like before.

  Jasmine interrupted them. “I’ve got something.” She removed the Blackberry from her ear and began frantically typing on it. Ellie was fascinated by Jasmine. She was a twenty-eight-year-old multi-tasking machine. Last month, she worked sixteen-hour days for Marilyn, redecorated her condo, threw her own engagement party, and wrote a series of editorials for The Huffington Post from the point of view of one of the few female African-American chief-of-staffs. On top of that, Jasmine knew everything about everything. She even knew how to change the battery in Ellie’s car when it wouldn’t start last week (which of course she did while simultaneously running a conference call and skimming The Washington Post.)

  “I’ve got a source who says Mills has been snooping around your campaign finances,” Jasmine told Marilyn.

  “How should we play it?” Marilyn asked wearily, the bags under her eyes seeming to expand by the minute. “Do we even bother trying to set a lunch?”

  Ellie curled her feet tightly under her on the leather chair as if this would help her disappear. Listening to her mother talk about Senator Mills killed her.

  “I think the days of you and Senator Mills grabbing weekly lunches at Café Milano are long gone. We’re going to need a new strategy to deal with him if you want to clinch that chairman position,” Jasmine said, gulping down the remnants of her triple espresso. Being chairman of the Judiciary Committee had been a dream of her mom’s for as long as Ellie could remember and the position had been recently vacated.

  Her mom stood and Ellie followed them both out of the office and into the farmhouse-style kitchen. Marilyn pulled a grapefruit from the fridge and cut it in half—her usual dinner on the nights she was home. Ellie stood next to her at the island, knowing her mother wouldn’t bother sitting down to eat.

  Jasmine opened her MacBook Air and began typing. It was amazing how many forms of technology this woman carried around with her at once. “We’re going to have to retaliate,” she said without looking up.

  “But didn’t that backfire last time?” Ellie contested. They both suddenly looked up as if they had forgotten she was in the room. She gave them an imploring look. Hadn’t they all learned their lesson? After all, it was years later and they were still dealing from the fall-out from it.

  A few days after Marilyn released Richard’s personal emails in retaliation for his slight to her in front of the president, a particularly well-endowed twenty-something girl suddenly appeared on the evening news stating she’d been having a torrid six-month-long affair with Tim Walker, Ellie’s dad. Adding insult to injury, the girl looked like she had used a stylist from Maxim to help her choose her interview outfit. It was almost painful watching Brian Williams trying not to stare at her chest while he asked her all about why Ellie’s dad felt the need to cheat.

  Marilyn and Ellie had never believed the girl, who was a waitress at a restaurant the Walkers often went to. It didn’t matter, though. The stress the story put on her parents’ already rocky marriage officially cracked it. Ellie watched helplessly as they divorced and her dad moved across the country. With the too coincidental timing of it all, Marilyn always assumed Senator Mills was somehow behind the scandal, possibly paying the girl off himself, ruining not just Marilyn’s family, but adding a humiliating stain to her public persona.

  “Jasmine, can you go print out my comments to the Energy committee for tomorrow?” Marilyn asked. Jasmine took the hint, seamlessly switched to her iPad and began typing rapidly as she walked out of the room.

  “I don’t want you to worry about Senator Mills. He has nothing to do with you,” Marilyn told Ellie. “Why don’t you stay home tonight? We can watch a movie.” Marilyn tossed her grapefruit in the trash.

  “Come on, Mom. You know you and Jasmine have hours left in you.” Marilyn’s silence was proof enough that Ellie had a point. “So besides all this drama, how was the first day?” she asked, feeling they were both ready for a change in topic.

  “Surprisingly pleasant. I chatted with a few of the freshman congressmen at lunch. Did you meet Taryn Reyes at school? Her father said she’s going to G.A.”

  “Just in passing,” Ellie lied. She reddened at the memory of her Game of Thrones-style showdown with Taryn and Gabe outside the dining hall. Somehow, she managed to lose restraint on every level around Gabe.

  Her stomach suddenly tightened at the idea that he could be at the rookie party. How had she not even considered that before?

  “Ellie?” Her mom was staring at her. “Someone’s knocking. I’m assuming that’s Hunter?”

  “Right, yeah.” She must have completely zoned out. The Gabe Effect.

  Marilyn followed her into the foyer. A huge vase of fresh peonies Ellie hadn’t noticed before sat on the entryway table.

  “Where did those come from?”

  “Jasmine. She has a mini-Greenhouse in her condo,” Marilyn answered.

  Ellie opened the door and Hunter gave her a smile that made her momentarily forget her stress. The constricted muscles in her neck slowly released themselves as she gave him a “my mom is standing next to me” appropriate kiss and let him in.

  “Hunter, it’s so good to see you,” Marilyn said, giving him a big hug.

  “Great to see you, too. My dad said you’re having lunch tomorrow,” Hunter responded. His father and Marilyn were not only old friends, but fierce allies within their party.

  “Yes. Please tell me he’s not on one of his juice fasts again,” Marilyn said with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Did he take you to Café Green last time?”

  Marilyn nodded. “I had something called a raw pizza. I’m still not sure what I ate.”

  Hunter laughed. “Don’t worry. He’s actually been on a sushi kick. My brother and I are hoping we can maneuver it into a family trip to Japan.”

  Ellie smiled at the endearing back and forth between her mother and Hunter. Her mother had never hidden the fact that she loved that they were dating. Ellie was pretty sure she wouldn’t be as enthusiastic if Gabe were the one standing in that spot right now.

  “Ready, babe?” Hunter asked.

  She nodded and grabbed the metallic clutch Brinley had instructed her to wear via the cheat sheet.

  “Have fun!” M
arilyn called out as they walked to Hunter’s car. Like most G.A. parents, Marilyn wasn’t as concerned with Ellie following the rules as long as no one caught her not following the rules.

  “Don’t work too hard!” Ellie called back, knowing her mom would probably be up later than she would.

  As soon as the front door shut, Hunter gave her a “your mom is no longer watching us” kiss. Their lips finally parted and he took her hand as they walked toward his car.

  “Did you watch the inauguration?” Hunter asked.

  “No. I, um, didn’t have a chance.” He looked disappointed, but she wasn’t about to tell him she had been too stressed about Gabe earlier to focus on anything else.

  “So Japan. Really?” She asked, quickly changing the subject to something much more innocuous.

  “Yeah, hopefully,” Hunter answered, propping her up a bit as they walked so her heels didn’t sink in the grass.

  “You think that’s a good idea?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve seen what happens when you’re within striking distance of a karaoke bar.” A mischievous glint flashed in her eye.

  Hunter grinned. “Everyone loves the song American Pie!”

  “It’s like twelve minutes long.” She laughed.

  “And your rendition of Say My Name with Brinley is better? I think Destiny’s Child might have cancelled their reunion tour after your last performance.” Hunter was laughing, too, as they reached his car. He kissed her again.

  “You look amazing by the way,” he murmured in her ear.

  “Really? Not to sound like a cliché, but it took me forever to decide what to wear,” she answered as he opened the door to his BMW X5 for her.

  “Well, actually, I happen to like it when you’re not wearing anything at all.”

  Ellie smiled as he closed the door, happy to be in the safety of his car and far away from any drama.