Danielle Steel - Malice

“What do you want to live for?” she asked angrily. She was furious at him now. He wasn't worth her time. Or her life. How could she have even thought he was? “What does a miserable piece of slime like you want to live for? Just for money? To ruin other people's lives? You're not even worth shooting.” And with that, she turned around, and hurried down the stairs, before he could even think of following her. She was out the door and back in her car, before he could even cross the room. All he did was sit down on the floor and cry, unable to believe she hadn't shot him. He had been absolutely certain she was going to kill him, and he'd been right, until the last five minutes. Just seeing him again, standing there, sniveling, coked out to the gills, had brought her to her senses.

She drove home and put the gun away, and then she called Charles. “I have to see you,” she said urgently. She didn't want to tell him on the phone, in case someone was listening, but she wanted him to know what she'd almost done. She had almost gone crazy. She had, for a while, but thank God, she had come to her senses.

“Can it wait till lunch?”

“Okay.” She was still shaking from what had happened. She could have been in jail by then and on her way back to prison for life. She couldn't believe she had almost been that stupid. But that's what it had driven her to, all the lies, and the agony, the humiliation, and the exposure.

“Are you all right?” he sounded worried.

“I'm fine. Better than I've been for a while.”

“What did you do?” he teased, “Kill someone?”

“No, I didn't, as a matter of fact.” She sounded vaguely amused.

“I'll meet you at Le Rivage at one o'clock.”

“I'll be there. I love you.”

They hadn't had a lunch date in a while, and she was happy to see him when he walked in. She was already waiting. He ordered a glass of wine, she never drank at lunch, and rarely at dinner. And then they ordered lunch. And when they had, she told him in an undertone what had happened. He literally grew pale when she told him. He was stunned. She knew how wrong it was, but for a moment, just a moment, it had seemed worth it.

“Maybe Matt's right, and I'd better behave myself, or you'll shoot me,” he said in a whisper, and she laughed at him.

“And don't you forget it.” But she knew she would never do anything like that again. It had been one moment of blind madness, but even in the height of her fury, she hadn't done it, and she was glad. Marcus Anders wasn't worth it.

“I guess that kind of takes the wind out of what I was going to tell you.” It had been quite a day for both of them. He couldn't even begin to imagine the horror it would have been if she had shot Marcus Anders. It didn't even bear thinking, though he could understand the provocation. He wasn't sure what he'd have done himself if he'd ever seen him. But thank God she had come to her senses. It was just one more confirmation to him that he was doing the right thing. It wasn't even a tough decision. “I'm withdrawing from the campaign, Grace. It's not worth it It's not right for us. We've been through enough. We don't need to do this anymore. It's what I said to you in New York. I want our life back. I've been thinking about it ever since then. How much more are we supposed to pay for all this? At what price glory?”

“Are you sure?” She felt terrible to have caused him to withdraw from politics. He wasn't running for his congressional seat again, and if he didn't persist in the senatorial race he'd be out of politics, for a while at least, or possibly forever. “What'll you do with yourself?”

“I'll find something to do,” he smiled. “Six years in Washington is a long time. I think it's enough now.”

“Will you come back?” she asked sadly. “Will we come back?”

“Maybe. I doubt it. The price is too high for some of us. Some people get away with it quietly forever. But we didn't. There was too much in your past, too many people were jealous of us. I think just the relationship we have and the kids get plenty of people riled. There are a lot of miserably envious, unhappy people in the world. You can't worry about it all the time. But you can't fight it forever either. I'm fifty-nine years old, and I'm tired, Grace. It's time to fold up our tents and go home.” He had already called a press conference for the next day, while she was threatening to kill Marcus Anders. The irony of it was amazing.

They told the children that night, and they were all disappointed. They were used to his being in politics, and they didn't want to go back to Connecticut full time. They all said it was boring, except in summer.

“Actually,” he admitted for the first time, “I've been thinking that a change of scene might do us all good for a while. Like maybe Europe. London, or France, or maybe even Switzerland for a year or two.”

Abby looked horrified and Matthew looked cautious. “What do they have in Switzerland, Dad?”

“Cows,” Abby said in disgust. “And chocolate.”

“That's good. I like cows and chocolate. Can we take Kisses?”

“Yes, except if we go to England.”

“Then we can't go to London,” Matthew said mat-ter-of-factly.

They all knew Andrew's vote would have been France since his girlfriend was going back to Paris for two years. Her father was being transferred to their home office on the Quai d'Orsay, and she had told him all about it.

“I can work in the Paris branch of our law firm, or our London branch, if I go back to the firm, or we can live cheaply and grow our own vegetables in a farmhouse somewhere. We have a lot of options.” He smiled at them. He'd been thinking about making a change ever since the attacks by the tabloids. But whatever they did after that, it was time for them to leave Washington, and they all knew it. It was just too high a price to pay for any man, or any family that stood behind him.

He had called Roger Marshall and apologized, and Roger said he understood completely. He thought there might be some other interesting opportunities in the near future, but it was too soon for Charles even to want to hear them.

The next morning, Charles was gracious and honorable and he looked relieved when he told the gathered members of the press that he was retiring from the senatorial race for personal reasons.

“Does this have to do with the photographs your wife posed for years ago, Congressman? Or is it because of her prison record coming out last June?” They were all such bastards. A new era had come to journalism, and it was not a pretty one. There had been a time when none of this would have happened. It was all muckraking and lies and maliciousness, actual or otherwise, provable or not. They went for the gut every time with a stiletto, and they didn't even care whose gut it was, as long as the stiletto came back with blood and guts on it. They had the mistaken impression that that was what their readers wanted.

“To the best of my knowledge,” Charles looked them in the eye, “my wife never posed for any photographs, sir.”

“What about the abortion? Was that true? … Will you be going back to Congress in two years? … Do you have any other political goals in mind? … What about a cabinet post? Has the President said anything if he gets reelected? … Is it true that she was in porno films in Chicago? …”

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for all your kindness and courtesy over the past six years. Goodbye, and thank you.” He ended like the perfect gentleman he had always been, and he left the room without ever looking back. And in two more months, at the end of his congressional term, he would be gone, and it would be all over.

Chapter 16

The last photograph was released in Thrill two weeks after Charles resigned, and it was an anticlimax then, even to Grace. Marcus had sold it to them a month before, and he couldn't withdraw it, even with all his whining. A deal was a deal, and he had sold it and spent the money. But he was terrified that Grace would come back with the gun again, and this time maybe she'd get him. He was afraid to leave the studio, and he decided to leave town. He decided not to sell them the photograph of her with the guy that he'd spoken of. It was a great shot too, and they really looked like they were doing it. But she'd shoot him for sure over that one, and Thrill didn't really care anymore. Mackenzie had resigned and he was old news. Who cared about his old lady?