The buzz in the room died down as Heather Ferrington walked onto the stage. She was everything Liz remembered her to be—unbelievably gorgeous, with long blond hair, a tall, slim build, and a fresh gray skirt suit. She could have been a model, and Liz wondered what had made her become a press secretary instead. Did she see that Brady was going somewhere and jump onboard as soon as she could? Had she done more to get to this position?
Thinking about whether or not Brady had slept with his attractive press secretary wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was only going to make her jealous.
“Hello, Chapel Hill! Thank you so much for coming out today!” Heather said brightly. It was a completely different façade than Liz had seen from her before. With press she had been biting and strong; on the phone she had been condescending and demanding; now she was über-cheerful.
Don’t underestimate her.
“My name is Heather Ferrington and I am Senator Maxwell’s press secretary. Senator Maxwell is thrilled to be back at his alma mater today. Only a few years ago he was sitting in the same classrooms and attending the same events as you. He was playing basketball for your beloved team, and loving every minute of it. He cherishes every memory from his hometown, and appreciates you inviting him to come speak today.”
Ha! Invited! Liz laughed to herself. Hadn’t Heather called only a week ago and explained that they were planning Chapel Hill as an extra stop for the Senator? Would the lies always be boundless?
“Before the Senator comes out to speak, I am pleased to introduce your fellow student Leslie Chester, president of Political Action NOW and cofounder of North Carolina Students for Progressive Action,” Heather said with a smile as she began the applause.
Liz sat up in her seat. She didn’t know they were going to have an introductory speaker.
It made sense that they would pick Leslie. Leslie was scary, with her intensity behind the things she believed in, and she badgered the paper relentlessly for more space for her pictures, articles, and ads. It was a constant battle. Liz wasn’t sure she knew anyone who actually liked her, but the girl sure as hell knew what she was doing.
Leslie Chester walked onstage in her modest two-inch heels. She was on the shorter side, with ashy brown hair and chipmunk cheeks. Liz suspected, like everyone else, that she would make a bid into politics one day, and she was dressed the part in a black pantsuit.
She stepped up to the microphone and cleared her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow students, thank you for attending this momentous event on campus. As this is one of the very first campaign stops on Senator Maxwell’s tour, I personally feel honored to be able to introduce him this afternoon.”
Leslie went on to list off Brady’s achievements and his career thus far in politics. It was without a doubt a rehearsed speech that the campaign had given her prepackaged. Liz knew all the highlights from her research, but paid close attention regardless. She never knew when they might throw a curveball her way that someone else might have missed.
“Chapel Hill, help me welcome our own alumnus, Senator Brady Maxwell III.”
The crowd clapped, rising to its feet. Liz stood with them, her hands moving mechanically as she kept her eyes glued to the entrance.
There he was. He stepped one foot out onto the stage and then another. Liz swallowed. She had been staring at pictures of him for two weeks and could have sworn that she had every inch of him memorized. But now, with him on the stage, walking toward the podium, waving at the crowd, she realized that no memory could ever do him justice.
He had on another black suit with a solid blue button-down and red striped tie. The politician’s red-white-and-blue seemed to be his MO, and she found herself thinking about the time she had seen him out of those colors…out of those clothes. She was having a hard time bringing herself back to the present.
His hair was perfectly styled, and his smile was overwhelming. She could almost feel his deep brown eyes scanning the crowd for her. Or maybe that was what she wanted to think. They’d had no contact since that night, aside from the tip she had received from his press secretary about the event. Yet the feeling remained.
Then his eyes found her sitting off to the side in the front row. They locked gazes for a brief second, but it was long enough for her entire body to tingle with warmth. His smile grew wider as he turned back to the audience. She would pay more than a penny for his thoughts in that moment.
“Thank you, Leslie,” he said, shaking her hand.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. She was staring up at him with a shock-and-awe expression that Liz was pretty sure she had never seen cross Leslie’s face.
God, this guy can charm anyone! she thought.
Leslie quickly exited the stage as Brady made himself comfortable in front of the podium. Then suddenly, like turning a switch, he was in campaign mode. She didn’t think she had ever noticed it before in the other speeches she had watched of his online. But with him so close she could see the difference. Likely no one else could, but he clearly had a campaign face of sorts, like an actor getting into character.
“Hello, Chapel Hill!” he said into the microphone. “It is so nice to be back in my hometown. How are y’all doing this afternoon?”
There was general applause among the audience. They were happy to be out of classes for the day and indulging in summer break. Most of them were interested in what he was going to say, but Liz was pretty sure that they would rather be at the pool working on their tans. She hated being so jaded about her classmates, but that had been her experience. And she wanted to change it, to educate and encourage her classmates to get involved. This was a good start.
“That’s great to hear. I was just over at Top O eating before this,” he said, talking about Top of the Hill, a local restaurant and bar. Brady paused as cheers rang through the crowd. “I swear the food gets better and better every time I go there. I can’t even tell you how many things I miss about Chapel Hill—Pit sitting, lazy days on the Quad, dribbling circles around my friends in Rams Head.”
Liz looked around to see the students nodding along. They all loved these things as well. He was appealing to their shared experiences. Clever.
“My four years at UNC were the best of my life, and I’m sure most of you feel the same way. You live and breathe the university as well as the community while you’re here and want to see as much done for it as possible, but you won’t always be here. Chris, my best friend growing up, followed me here to Chapel Hill. We were, of course, upstanding gentlemen as a part of the university.”