This chapter has some crumy language...
Chapter Twenty
While a bit more expensive than what either of them was used to getting, Lebanese Taverna turned out to be a good decision as Meg and Christine casually chatted over hummus and pita points. Not long after, another woman sat down at the table behind Christine. On the way back from the bathroom, Christine had seen her and noted how beautiful she was from her high lighted dirty blonde hair, properly made up blue eyes, full chest, and long legs. This wouldn't have mattered so much if it weren't for the conversation she overheard from the woman had as Meg had to take a phone call from work.
"Yeah, I just came back from this guy's funeral thing. It was at the Cathedral. " The woman told her friend. Christine's ear perked in from behind her.
"Omgad, I'm so sorry."
"I mean, it's okay. We were friends in like, middle school I think. I had forgotten who he was until I met up with him on H Street."
"Wait, girl, you mean like met up-met up?"
"Yeah, like a few times. What did you think?"
"I can never keep up with you, sexy! That is so weird, by the way. How long ago was it?"
Christine held her breath. It must have been months. It had to have been months and months and months.
"Like, a month or two? He knew a good dealer so we hooked up when we got our shit. He didn't always last long, but he was good with his fingers."
Christine was trying not to choke.
"Funny how you can be fucking one day and dead the next, isn't it?"
"Whoa girl, you just made that sound gross. We fucked before he died, not after. That's gross."
Christine had an urge to slap the blonde with her purse. She wanted to put her face into the glass she drank and watch the blood come from her pretty made up face. Her hands gripped at the seat, her breathing staggered, and she knew that it wasn't this girl's fault. It was Raoul's betrayal.
Tripping out of the seat and heading for the door as fast as she could, Christine literally ran into Meg on her way out. She couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take any of it anymore. This was finally too much. Meg quickly turned with uncanny grace and followed her friend back into the cold.
"Hey hon, where're you heading?" she asked carefully.
Christine didn't make it far out of the restaurant before turning into the ally. The ice didn't make the break in her knees any easier and she fell to the pavement with a scream. Meg was beside her in a second, holding her shoulders to her chest and hushing her. The girl's body shook in sobs, her breathing mix matched at best. There was so much to handle, so much to deal with and she was happy to live in ignorance if it meant burying the pain with Raoul.
"Make it stop, Meg!" she screamed, hands over her ears.
"Make what stop, honey?"
"The pain…I'm in…so much…pain." she sobbed, her shoulders throwing themselves up and down with force.
"Oh, Chris-"
"No!" She yelled, "No, he was a cheat! That bastard was a cheat!"
"Whoa, where is this coming from?"
"Some woman in there. Some woman who was rich and doing drugs and with blonde hair and long legs and beautiful. She was his casual fling when he did drugs. She said it at the table. I know - I know we couldn't be out and official, but, but I thought that…he told me that we…Told me that he loved me and… Oh god! It's true! He was a cheat!"
Knowing that this was not the best place for a commotion, Meg did what she could to consul her friend. An older man stopped from walking on the sidewalk and turned into an ally to ask if the women were okay. Meg thanked then shooed him off. Not long after, the young bar-back from the restaurant came out to ask them to pay.
"Here," Meg shoved a few bills in his hands, "That for the appetizer and the drinks, plus tip."
He backed away slowly, not sure what to make of the situation. Meg turned back to her friend.
"We should go, hon." she whispered holding Christine close, "Let's get you home, okay?"
"I hate him! I hate him, Meg! And I hate my life now!"
"Don't say that, honey, okay? Hate him, sure, but you're going to be just fine, okay?"
They ended up taking a Lyft back to Eastern Market. Meg made sure her friend was comfortable, eventually playing Candy Crush on her phone as Christine fell asleep. Simba came out for a little, but he didn't seem very interested in her. Meg wasn't a huge fan for cats. It was a little past eight when Christine finally woke up. She checked her phone and jumped off the bed.
"What is it?" Meg asked.
"I have to go." Christine was looking around as if suddenly lost, "I have to be somewhere."
Meg was concerned by her friend. Was that fear in her voice?
"What's wrong, Chris?"
"I'm sorry," she was throwing her coat and hat back on, "but I have to be somewhere soon. I can't explain."
Meg stood, a hand moving to her hip, "More secrets? Really?"
"Meg," Christine came to her and took her hands, "You deserve to know. You do. And I'll tell you everything after." She hugged Meg suddenly, "I can't keep this secret from you anymore. Too much has happened."
"What do you mean? You're freaking me out here."
"Don't be," she was at the door. "I'll tell you everything, but I've got to get there before I'm late."
"What for?"
"A stupid singing lesson." With that, the door slammed shut for a moment only to be opened again. Christine rushed in and grabbed the cat, tucking it into her pocket. "Lock up when you leave?"
"Where are you taking Simba?"
She sighed, "He likes Roach more than me and I'm tired of him keeping me awake whenever I try to sleep!"
The door slammed again and Meg was left in a state of confusion that would follow her the entire slow and delayed Metro ride back to U Street.
XX
Doug Nadir already knew much of Meg Barnes apartment. He knew how much she paid on rent, how much her utilities were and how the key needed to be pushed up and in to unlock the door. Once inside, he saw the studio that he had already witnessed on the small camera he placed in the ceiling tile some hours before he gave her the documents. It wasn't that he had been paying so much attention to her. It was more to be sure that no one came to see anything prematurely. This was the standard procedure and Underwood had access to it.
The dog immediately began to bark from its place on the sofa in front of his path. Expecting this, he pulled a few dog treats from his bag that had crushed sleeping pills in them. They were not as strong as they were quick to the system. By the time the dog had finished eating, the powder would be in effect.
As this happened, he moved around the sofa and coffee table to get to the wall with the pinned up documents. One by one, he took them down with gloved hands, stacked them up, and placed them in the same manila envelope that they came in, taking care to place the thumbtacks neatly on the desk in a place where they wouldn't fall. He did not do so many inside jobs anymore, but he always made sure things were not in a mess from his wake. Nor did he want to accidentally hurt the dog. There was no reason to make his actions appear threatening to her. They were not.
Lastly, he cracked her computer passwords after having remembered from the footage. Once searching her computer for any copies, he removed all evidence and slipped her thumb drive into the envelope. There were no online copies of anything from her. He had already made a few calls to check. Before leaving, he placed a small typed note on top of her computer.
Without taking another glance at the apartment, he left. Underwood had instructed him to leave the camera, but he wasn't exactly sure why. Regardless, he doubted anyone would be looking for it. Basic investigators would not consider this case as much of a threat as it could have been.
XX
When Christine arrived, she all but completely tripped up the steps. Underwood was there with the door open as usual and she slipped past him and into the hall. She took Simba out of her pocket and scooted him into the Din, opposite of the Study. He didn't have to search long before disappearing into one of the furniture pieces that she had learned doubled as a hiding place for Roach. Choosing not to look at him, she began to remove her coat and hat.
"You are late," he said quietly.
"I know," she panted, "I fell asleep after… and, well, here I am."
"And you're out of breath."
His accusations were making her uncomfortable and she made her way to the Study to avoid being caught in the hall again, "Give me a second and I'll be fine."
"I was waiting for you." He said quickly, "I thought you weren't coming."
He sounded very odd and she looked back at him once reaching the fire. Her instinct was to ask if something was wrong, but she thought better of it. Of course, things were off, of course, something was wrong. Everything was all wrong.
"What would you do if I weren't around?" he asked, almost menacingly, as he stood directly in the doorway. Christine started to feel trapped and took a small step backwards.
She answered slowly, "I would…apply for a new job and collect unemployment if I have to. I have some savings."
"With your salary and lack of spending on finer things, I take it you have enough savings to make it a little while., six months at best." His reply was quiet.
"Yes…So?"
He wasn't moving any closer physically, but she felt him taking more space in the room. She didn't move again, not wanting to appear as small as she was beginning to feel.
"Say you didn't find a new job in time? You don't have the typical minimum of years experience being the head of a congressional office. You might not even get through the door. Then what if your savings fell out, what then?"
The subject was forwarding into very unsettling territory for her, a place that she would not go back to that no matter what, "I know. And you know." She snapped, "I've already been there and I don't ever plan on going back." He took a step into the Study and she took a step back without thought. She continued slowly, "What's the point of all of these questions? Are you saying our deal is over? If that's the case I'll go home."
He shrugged, "Why would our deal be over? You made a mistake. I've made the conscious decision to see past it."
She chose to see past him giving her the blame and that comment and continued, "Then why are you asking me all these questions? I've done what you've asked whenever you've asked it, haven't I?"
"Yes," He smiled and she wanted to run, but he continued, "and no."
She took another step back, "What…what do you mean?"
He made his way to stand opposite of her by the fire. The colors of flame-colored his white mask and she felt his face might have well been just as heated, "This arrangement is strange. Why would I give you something and accept nothing in return?"
"I don't know." She said slowly, "I've asked you that and you said gain, didn't you? It was your idea."
They caught eyes for a moment, but he quickly stepped over to the window to look out, lacing his fingers behind him. "Gain…Yes. This past week was pleasant enough, yes?"
"I…guess."
"I mean before the incident Saturday morning, Christine." He nearly snarled.
"Yes, yes, it was nice." She answered quickly.
He turned to her and nodded, "It was, wasn't it? You agree that we got along well enough."
"Yes…"
"Good. I think the arrangement I have in mind will work well."
"What…arrangement?"
A dangerous smile crossed his lips, not at all making it up to his eyes as he stated, "Quite simply, you will marry me."
It took her too long to find her voice or the ability to move her jaw from its slacked open position, or her eyes to blink after being so wide, "W-what?"
Taking a breath, as if to calm himself, he said, "I need you to marry me."
Her next word fell out and seemed to crash on the floor, "Why?"
"I'm after the Vice Presidency. And I need to have a better family image then….what I currently have."
"But Phillip Tusk…" Reality struck her and she whispered, "Is he dropping out? And you're being pulled in before the swearing-in so that Speaker isn't promoted."
He took a step forward making her step back, "You are smart, Christine."
Her hand went to her forehead to try and stop the spinning sensation she felt, "But…but why me?"
His eyes flashed back to her, "Who else?"
She looked to her feet and shifted as her hands moved to where his once where on his forearms. "But-but you don't even like me! I thought you hated me!"
"I like you fine enough," he retorted with a shrug, "That's insignificant."
She took a step forward and looked to him again, "But we're not even friends. This whole arrangement is a secret."
"We see each other often. We talk about many things. We've had meals together. Friends do such things."
Her mind was spinning to the times between them, none of them she would particularly define as friendly. Everything would be so black and white to him. God, it made it sound so damn simple! She could try to fight, but she would need more ammunition. Her steps backwards finally bumped her into the armchair he tended to claim. She let her weight fall on one of the arms without thought. "I need to think about this."
"Why? We could be married. I don't see any issue." He added the next comment as a cruel afterthought, "You can always divorce me in four years if the arrangement is too intolerable. By that time, I'll have been re-elected with Walker and it won't matter."
Strange tears were stinging her eyes and she couldn't figure out what emotion was causing them. She held herself together, but her voice cracked, "This isn't how you ask someone to marry you, Erik!"
"I wasn't going to ask you here!" Was he…excited? "No…it would need to be public. There would need to be potential cameras or some vermin to document it. Flowers, maybe, and the ring would have to be seen from a distance. Anything less wouldn't do. An orchestra, maybe."
A sickness started to grow in her stomach and she had to hold it to coax it to stay in, "Oh my god…"
He took a step to her, leaving hardly two feet between them, "I need you to tell me you'll say yes when I ask. I cannot have you deny me in front of others. There is too much riding on this. I'm sure you understand."
"No." She said pointedly, "No, I don't understand."
His visible eyebrow went up, "This upsets you."
"Yes!"
"You're…tearful."
Christine brushed the embarrassing tears from her face with her hands and choked what was left back down and turning away from him, "This isn't how things are supposed to be. This whole day has been nothing but Hell!"
"Then tell me how you want them and I'll do whatever you want." He said as if making up a business contract.
A cold truth fell on her and the words that followed were involuntary and cold, "He didn't love me. He said he did, but he…he couldn't have so…and I knew that if his family ever agreed…I would be a trophy or something and…he didn't…couldn't…" She felt vulnerable for having said something he didn't need to know. Instead of continuing, she took a breath and said, "You don't love me either."
There was a thick silence. When he didn't outright agree with her, she turned around and put her head into the back of the chair in utter exhaustion. This had to be a sick joke. There was no way he could harbor anything but hate. He pulled away from the fire and turned away from her entirely to look back out the window. She saw his back stiffen, then droop as his hands came together in front of him. After a few moments of this, he straightened back up and only slightly turned the unmasked side of his face to her.
"I don't love anyone. Most significantly, myself." She audibly sighed and turned back to the fire. At least he was honest about it. She was unable to handle such a lie, "But…if I had ever come close to either concept, it has only ever been with you."
When her eyes tried to meet his again, he turned away from them. His words confused her beyond belief and she gasped, "What?"
He walked past her from thefirelightt and touched the side of his desk lightly with the tips of his fingers. "I know what you fear, Christine. You fear homelessness and being alone. You often feel that you are always a matter of days from facing such things at all times. If you agreed to this arrangement, I would ensure that you never know what that feels like again no matter what. There is no discrepancy over my wealth and I wouldn't fight you if you in four years if you chose to take it with you in divorce. In addition, it is not as if I have other people, or women for that matter, to steal my attention from you. While I may not be able to offer you a traditional understanding of love, I can offer you security and I will always ensure that you will never fear the things you have had to fear in the past. I will swear to that."
He finally looked back at her and she realized that her tears had stopped. Before her stood such a strong man in stature, but there was care that shown in his eyes. The idea of loving someone else seemed too painful anyway and his offer to never be in want again would not be in vain. Still, this was nothing like anything she would have thought would be her life. So many of her childhood dreams had crumbled and now here she was being offered a practical fairy tale, but one without the love she desired seemed so empty.
Her weight fell to the bookshelf near the fireplace. She needed some kind of support, "What if it's not enough? What if…what if I want to be loved, too?" She managed to stumble out. "I've been loved before…before…and…"
Her vision blurred as she stared at the seat of the chair. She did not hear him walk back to her and she jumped when she realized that he was now bending to be at eye level with her. The image stung and seemed to mock everything that had just happened. She shook her head and turned away to the fire.
"I won't make you look at me, but you must listen, Christine."
"No." She pushed herself up and made her way to the sofa near the window, "I will not listen to anymore of you or anything else from this day." She could feel her body shaking, dreams shattering everywhere. Everything her father would have wanted was dying around her.
His steps towards her were silent again and she trembled in her pain. Two hands took her left hand in theirs and she turned around in shock. Her eyes couldn't help but follow them back to him. They incased hers so easily and she realized once again how weak she must have appeared him, let alone the rest of the whole damn world. Before she could think of more horrible things, he whispered to her hand as it had been pulled up to his chin. She could feel his breath on the tips of her fingers.
"Perhaps you can tell me something…" he said as he stared at her hand seemingly fascinated with it, "Perhaps you can tell me why it is that I hate to see you cry and how I despise the notion that I could be the one to make it happen." He seemed to study her hand, turning it over to see her palm. She didn't fight him, curious to what he was trying to find. His index finger lightly traced a few lines on her hand, "Tears always seemed so pointless to me. A waste of energy…but when you cry, it is not an annoyance or anything of that sort… It simply makes me want to do something to make you stop." He looked back up to her, "Perhaps you can tell me what it is I can do to make you stop crying now?"
When she did not answer, he spoke again, raising his right hand, leaving her left his other hand, "Permit me, then?" His thumb ran lightly, carefully across her cheek right into her hair line, taking tears that had stained her face with it. She noticed how callused his finger was, like her father's from having played the violin so long, yet he was so soft with his touch. His hand followed her hair down gently and the feeling caught and relaxed her. Her eyes feel and nearly closed.
"Will you say yes, Christine?" he asked softly.
She shook her head from his hand, "I need to think."
His fingers curled in her hair a bit when he spoke, "You think persistently. Just answer."
"And how you would feel if I said that to you?"
"But you see, I've have everything already thought out. I'm offering the future your father always wanted, am I not? You will not have to work slavery hours in an office, or answer to anyone you don't want to. You can sing when you like, public or private, and you won't have to ever worry about your survival again. I've thought this out for both of us, I just need you to say yes."
"But…but political duties…" she closed her eyes tightly to think better and moved his hand away as her head began to shake with doubts, "To be that kind of perfect woman that people look to as an example. I'm poor. I don't understand that. I can't live up to it. They'll rip me apart-"
"I won't let them and you won't have to live up to anything you don't want. How horrible would it be for a nation of the ninety-nine percent to actually be able to relate to the person they see in the lime light? You can hide from it if you think that would be best, I just need you to stand by me when it actually matters."
She pulled her hand from him and placed knotted both of her hands in her hair in frustration, "But you'll be even busier than you are now! There's no way I could fit in, so what's the point? This is a terrible idea!"
"And how awful would that be?" He quickly countered, "Perhaps you would like the time to yourself? You could travel, you know? When I'm touring the country you could explore elsewhere. Find those stars, hm?"
"No I-" His points were beginning to interest her, but the trust wasn't there and she continued, "That would never work out! Erik, I can't." She took her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest, "And I'm no good for anyone. Everyone who gets close to me dies…literally dies!"
"Then, I'll leave you my fortune. Would that be so awful? You can buy your own island and tell the rest of the world to rot in Hell." He took her left hand back and held it to him again, "Marry me, Christine. I'm no good with others either and my track record precedes yours. Regardless, you're one of the few people I'll publicly admit to tolerating. Am I not the same to you?"
She played his card against him, "I thought our agreement was to be in secret."
"As I was the one to formulate that agreement, I amend it now." He squeezed her hand, "Marry me, Christine."
Air was suddenly hard to find and her throat was closing around the words, "B-but I can't-"
"Not a good answer."
"Erik, you're not making this fair." She pulled her hand from his roughly, "Let me think!"
"If you thought it would not work, you would have already said no, would you not?"
"Not exactly-"
"Say 'yes.'"
"Not like this!"
"Very well then." He moved away from her and began to pace just a few feet before her, his hands laced behind his back, "Do you desire a nice dinner? Five courses? Seven? A full orchestra? Roses and a ring bigger than you knuckle inside some frosted flower on top of a damn red velvet cake in the shape of a caricature heart? Is that what you want Christine?"
"No! No! I don't like any of that!"
Underwood rounded to her with intensity, "Then what do you want. Tell me, whatever it is, whatever romantic regurgitation you want and I'll make it happen, but I need you to say yes!"
His volume had gotten loud enough that it echoed in her ears long after he spoke, the words running round and round until she thought she had heard them far more times than he had said them. There had to be a middle ground. If this was going to happen, if she had no choice, then there had to be something that could win her over and she had to tell him something to get him thinking about anything else.
"It's…" She started slowly wringing her hands, "It's got to…to mean something to you."
He crossed his arms, "Only your answer will mean something to me."
"Fine!" He was ruining everything, "Then my answer will depend on if you can actually show me some kind of care! I refuse to marry someone for their money and I'd love it if you'd stop trying to trap me into another agreement as if this were some other daily business for you!"
He raised a visible eyebrow, "So my money is no longer good enough for you?"
"Most people marry someone because they love them." She snapped, turning her nose up to him, "That's what my dad would have wanted."
"I offer you documented millions and you chose something as unstable as love?"
She sighed, "I guess."
"Then feel free to guess your change of mind."
"Erik-"
"No! No! No! This conversation is over! You will either marry me or never marry anyone!"
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"You accuse me of being a bachelor forever, you say that I'm meant to be alone, well, you're mistaken. You are the only one in forty goddamned years that have ever made me think differently, to ever want something different. From the beginning, you should have known you were wrong and you are! Our worlds are intertwined now and they always will be. And you will marry me, Christine. You will marry me because we're the only people in this whole damned country to actually understand each other and call each other out on that. No one can side track me and get away with it, no one but you." He stopped his words suddenly, looking closely at her, then turned his attention to the window, "We need each other. There is nothing more to discuss or consider. There are only facts and the fact is that we need each other. Do you disagree?"
"Erik - "
"Do you?"
The honest word fell from her before she could stop it, "No."
"Then it's settled. And come tomorrow night you will find that word you denied me this evening." He took a few steps away from her to the wall before saying, "You can go now."
She straightened up, took a breath, and proceeded towards the door to get her coat. Before leaving the room entirely she looked back at him, "I don't like red velvet cake…or caricature hearts." She spoke quietly, "And…and if you want me to say yes, well, I know how much money you have and how much you could spend to make this…what it would be. But, if you want me to, well, agree then well, it's got to mean something to you too."
He kept his cold eyes to the window, "Goodnight, Ms. Gallagher."
She sighed, "Goodnight, Dr. Underwood."
I plugged in one of my old roommates as the Taverna employee. Good guy.
What do you think of Erik's offer?
