FIVE

TYLER

“So did you deal with it?” Jay asked about Christian’s teacher as he trailed behind me with his face buried in a press packet for next Monday’s television interview.

I pushed through my office doors, seeing Corinne, my assistant, pouring water into glasses around the conference table off to the left in preparation for our meeting this morning.

“Of course,” I mumbled, rounding my desk and unbuttoning my jacket.

“Well, you canceled a TV spot for that meeting. You can’t do that again,” he warned.

I cocked an eyebrow and ignored him, looking over his shoulder to Corinne and mouthing, Coffee.

She nodded and left the room.

I let out a breath and focused on the computer screen, checking my messages. “I didn’t ask for the TV spot to begin with,” I reminded him. “I’m not even running for senator yet. Officially, anyway,” I added. “Don’t you think we’re jumping the gun?”

“Tyler, that’s what I need to talk to you about.” His tone sounded annoyed. “You won’t win anything until you step up the schmoozing. The reason campaigns have funds is because they run off donations.”

I shook my head, glancing over my schedule for the day. “I don’t like donations.” I felt like I had to repeat that on a daily basis for him.

“Yes, I understand that. Believe me,” he said, sounding even more annoyed, “I’m well aware of your feelings on the subject.”

I didn’t need help funding my campaign. I’d built the fifth-largest media company in the South, with interests in television, Internet, and communication. Then I’d sold it and started all over from the ground up, building one of the top-ten-largest construction companies in the world.

It wasn’t that I’d disliked the media world. I’d hated it.

I’d thought that media would be a great place to network and be visible for my political aspirations, but making something that you couldn’t touch felt empty.

I realized I didn’t need to wait to get into office to make positive change. I could start now.

So once I’d felt satisfied that I’d taken the company as far as I could on my own, I’d handed it over, and now I built fleets of things I could touch. Towers, homes, skyscrapers, ships, and even the equipment that built these things. I produced something, and better yet, it was something people needed. Something that gave people jobs.

I owned the sixty-story building that housed my office, more real estate than I knew what to do with, and I certainly didn’t need handouts from people who wanted to have a politician in their pocket.

I had accomplished my successes on my own, and I’d get the Senate on my own.

But my brother had different ideas.

“Tyler, let me explain something.” He dropped his binder on the chair and planted his hands on my desk, leaning down. “When you’re not vying for donations, you’re also not vying for support. When Blackwell got a two-million-dollar donation, he also got their endorsement…” He explained it as if I were a child.

“He got the votes of everyone in that organization,” he went on. “And their friends. And their friends,” he added. “Donations aren’t just about money. They’re about other people putting their confidence in you. They’ll publicly endorse you, because they have a stake in your success when you have their cash.”

“Exactly.” I nodded, the chip still weighing on my shoulder. “I’m not here to play chess with these people and be their pawn.”

I twisted around, picking up an article I’d cut out from the table next to the window. “Look at this,” I shot out, holding up the clipping. “Senator McCoy here cut funding for after-school programs to reroute the money from the state to the city parks in Denver,” I explained. “However, the city parks don’t show that money in their quarterly budget. So where’d the money go?”

The question was rhetorical, so I didn’t wait for an answer. I dropped the clipping and grabbed the new printout I’d gotten off the Internet last night.

“And then this guy,” I started, taunting my brother. “Representative Kelley wants to cut funding to women’s clinics, because ‘why do women need a separate doctor from men?’ ” I quoted him from the article and then looked to my brother, scowling. “This genius thinks both genders have the same reproductive system, and yet he gets to vote on legislation that determines medical treatment for women.”

I started laughing, seeing my brother close his eyes and shake his head.

“This is why I’m running, Jay,” I stated. “Not so I can be a contender in a popularity contest of who’s got the most fucking friends.”

“Oh, fuck you, Tyler.” He groaned, running his hand through his hair and standing up. “I’m going for a drink, and tomorrow I am rebuilding you from the ground up.”

And then he turned, making his way out of my office.

A drink?

I looked down at my watch. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning!” I argued.

“It’s New Orleans,” he deadpanned, as if that explained everything.

“And another thing…” He spun around, walking backward for the door. “Start being seen with a woman in public.”

At that point I pursed my lips, pretty sick of all of his orders. “I thought you said me being single appealed to the ‘single woman vote,’ ” I gritted out.