Page 1 of Where There's Smoke

Chapter 1

Anthony

“I’m assumingthis isn’t just a friendly drink.” I cradled the stem of my glass between my fingers and pressed my elbow onto the wrought-iron armrest.

From the opposite side of the glass-topped veranda table, Roger Cameron mirrored me. “You know me too well, don’t you?”

I brought my drink to my lips and took a sip, but the white wine barely registered on my tongue. I was too focused on him, on trying to figure out what this was all about and why we were out here beside his pool, shaded from the SoCal sun and drinking something expensive. Roger only contacted me when he needed me, which he hadn’t since he’d retired from the Senate two years ago. Unless he was coming out of retirement, this was…unusual.

He looked at the table for a long moment, a contemplative expression pulling his thick eyebrows together above his distant eyes. Finally, he drew a breath and set his shoulders back like he was about to propose some sort of legislation to Congress. “John Casey has almost secured the Republican nomination for governor.”

I scowled. “I know. I’ve been keeping an eye on the polls.”

“Then you’ve also been keeping an eye on the creatures the Democrats have been putting up to potentially run against him, yes?”

I blew out a breath. The political scene in California was a mess, and thanks to the cluster fuck going on in the Democratic Party, the Republicans had a significant lead in the polls in spite of backing one of the worst gubernatorial candidates I’d ever seen. The man’s policies were devastating to education, inhumane to immigrants, crippling to small businesses and property owners, and lovingly sucked the collective cock of every corporate fat cat in the state. I’d already looked into property in Arizona, Nevada, even places on the East Coast, so I could vacate California the second Casey won the election.

I took a long swallow of wine and set my glass on the table with a quietclink. “You’ll make my entire year if you tell me you want to come out of retirement and have me run your campaign.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid not.” He tapped the center of his chest with two fingers. “The old ticker will quit on me if I even consider it.”

I steepled my fingers under my chin. “Then why are we having this conversation?”

Roger gave me that JFK tilt he always used to woo the public during speeches and debates. I wasn’t the public, though, and he’d have to work harder than that to pique my interest in whatever he had in mind.

“I want you to manage a campaign, Anthony,” he said. “But not mine. Getting him elected will be a long shot, but we need someone better than what the party is producing.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek but said nothing. My stomach twisted into knots, wondering who he had in mind. With Casey’s popularity, this race needed a long shot like I needed to smoke another pack a day.

Roger shifted in his chair and looked me square in the eye. “I want you to get my nephew elected.”

I blinked. “Your…nephew?”

He nodded.

It took everything I had not to either laugh or throw my not-just-a-friendly drink in his face to snap him out of whatever delusional state he was in. Two of Roger’s spoiled idiot nephews had no business campaigning for employee of the month at a supermarket, never mind governor of California. The third wasn’t much better.

I curled the edge of my napkin around my finger. “Dare I ask which of Michael’s boys thinks he has a shot in politics?”Please say Nate. Please say Nate. Please—

“Jesse.”

I couldn’t help groaning. “You’re kidding.Pleasetell me you’re kidding.”

He shook his head slowly.

“Roger, for God’s sake.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Jesse Cameron. You want me to try to get Jesse Cameron elected. Asgovernor.” I glared at him. “Is this a joke? Really?”

“No, it’s not a joke.”

“What makes you think he even stands a chance in this race?”

“Well, he does have name recognition.”

“Not in politics, he doesn’t. Jesse’s name is known in showbiz and the fucking tabloids. Not political circles. The people of California aren’t interested in another Reagan or Schwarzenegger.”

Roger raised an eyebrow. “He’smynephew, son.”

I exhaled. “Face it. People hear the name Jesse Cameron, they don’t associate him with you, they associate him with his parents.” I reached into my pocket to pull out my cigarettes and lighter. “Either that, or his ‘acting career,’ if you’d call it that.”

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