Page 51 of The Fix

There he was—Hollis Barclay in the flesh.

Even after all these years, Cami had expected to experience more emotions when she saw him.

In some ways, in her mind, Hollis remained the golden boy, a frozen part of that sparkling, gilded era right before she’d lost everything of value to her.

But other times, all she could remember of him was his backside as he’d raced for the door, abandoning her and their child.

But now? Now she felt neither nostalgia nor bitterness. She only felt a mild sense of distaste as she watched him with his plastered-on smile, moving from one donor to the next, shaking hands and taking photos, the consummate politician.

He was still the best-looking man in the room. He’d be any woman’s dream if said woman only wanted to go skin deep and was also searching for an antihero who would beat it out of Dodge at the first hint of challenge.

Good luck, state of Virginia.

She approached from the side, moving with the throng of people attempting to get his attention.

Someone jostled her, and she stepped forward just as Hollis turned, and they collided.

He gripped her upper arms, his mouth opening to greet her and then shutting, his lips returning to that same smile.

It barely faltered, but it did falter, and she took satisfaction in the minuscule wobble.

“Camille Cortlandt?” He let go of her arms and took a step back so he could look her up and down. “My God, how long has it been?”

“Eleven years,” she said. “Hi, Hollis.”

He stared and then leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment in a way that made her want to push him away. She never wanted this man to touch her again. Not even in casual greeting. “You look fantastic,” he said, and his expression told her he meant it. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Hollis, the Nelsons would like to meet you.” The staffer who’d interrupted them leaned in closer, but Cami heard his whisper. “They’re the ones who just made the six-figure donation.”

“I’ll be right there,” Hollis told the man. “This is an old friend from school.”

He turned back to her with a smile that was tighter than it’d been before.

Now she was bothering him and keeping him from his six-figure friends.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He attempted to make it sound light and conversational, but it came out annoyed.

Before she could answer, he glanced over her shoulder and lifted his hand in greeting to someone more important. It was clear he was ready to move on.

“I’m here to see you about something important. Can I have a minute?”

Another falter. Another dip of his smile.

“I promise not to take up more than ten minutes of your time,” she said, her words quickened.

She realized he was about to be pulled away in any number of directions at any moment, and she refused to leave without speaking to him.

And it dawned on her in a way it only could in a moment like that: She was no longer the timid girl willing to let Hollis Barclay dismiss her.

She had business with him, and she was going to insist it was seen to if she had to shout it out in front of this crowd.

Hollis smiled at someone passing by and patted his shoulder. “See you Tuesday,” he said, pointing his finger and giving the man an exaggerated wink. Then he turned back to Cami. “Uh, sure. Yeah.” He signaled the staffer still hovering nearby. “Ronny, take her backstage to the dressing room?”

Cami hesitated, worried he was sending her to some faraway room where he’d never show. But aside from screaming out her business right here like she’d thought about, she was left little choice. “Please don’t keep me waiting long,” she said.

Again, annoyance flashed in his eyes, but he acquiesced with a tip of his chin. She turned and followed Ronny around the stage, up a short flight of stairs, and down a hall. “There are some soft drinks and water in there. Help yourself,” Ronny said, pointing at a door.

“Thanks.” She went inside and, mostly because she wasn’t sure what to do, she grabbed a bottle of water and paced the small space, which featured a lighted mirror with a chair and a love seat on the opposite wall.

She’d assumed he’d leave her waiting, and so when she heard footsteps coming toward the room a minute later, she wondered if it was the same staffer returning to tell her Hollis couldn’t meet with her after all.

But the man himself walked through the door, and even mustered another smile that looked less annoyed this time.

“Let me guess,” he said, “you’re writing a book about what happened to your family and want to interview me to add some current relevance. ”

She almost laughed. Almost. He was still the same Hollis. Which was to say, he was still a self-involved dick. “No. I’m not writing a book.”

He walked to the minifridge and grabbed a water like she’d done, uncapped it, and took a long drink. He studied her as he screwed the cap back on. “You should. It’d almost surely be a bestseller. The public ate up your story. To hear it from the horse’s mouth—”

“I’m here about our child.”

That shut him up. His mouth opened slightly, and his hands froze where they were still twisting the bottle cap.

“Did you ever think about your child? Did you wonder if it was a boy or a girl? Did you wonder if I kept him or gave him away?”

His hand began moving slowly, and his expression recovered more quickly, morphing into a confused innocence. Hollis’s politely baffled look. “My child?” He tilted his head. “I’m sorry—”

She did laugh then, setting the water bottle on the nearest surface so she could rub her temples. “Oh my God, you really did convince yourself the baby wasn’t yours?”

“The baby ... Cami, are we really going to rehash all those lies?” He sighed. “You’re still unwell.”

“Unwell? Are you serious?”

He turned and set his water bottle down, too, and when he faced her, she saw the flare of anger. “Did you get a paternity test?”

“No. I didn’t need one.”

“My God. The things I deal with.” He tilted his head back and groaned, a long-suffering sound, as if she was just another unhinged fan he had to endure in a long line of psychotic admirers who claimed to have had his baby.

The door, still slightly ajar, squeaked open, causing her a moment of surprise as it swung slowly to reveal a woman. “I’m sorry,” she said, and Cami recognized her as the beautiful blond she’d seen on TV with Hollis. His fiancée, if she was remembering correctly.

Hollis practically flew from where he was standing to her side. “Seraphina. Don’t be sorry. Come in and meet an old friend, Cami Cortlandt.”

Seraphina looked back and forth between them, a small wrinkle between her arched brows, clearly sensing the tension.

But she gave Cami a warm smile as she stepped forward with her hand outstretched.

“An old friend. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting many people from Hollis’s past. So good to make your acquaintance.

” Cami took Seraphina’s slim hand. Her nails were perfectly manicured, and a diamond engagement ring sparkled on her finger.

“Will you be joining us for dinner? There’s plenty of—”

“Unfortunately, Cami’s leaving right after this,” Hollis said. “Another time.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Seraphina said. “Well, next time then.” She smiled once more and for a moment they all stood there, staring awkwardly at each other.

Finally, Hollis turned to his fiancée. “Sweetheart, I’ll meet you in the car. I just need a minute.”

That tiny wrinkle between her brows appeared again.

She glanced from Hollis to Cami, fiddling with the massive ring on her slender finger.

She looked torn and insecure. She cast her eyes down momentarily and then looked up at Hollis.

“Okay then ... I’ll just ... wait for you there. Cami, again, nice to meet you.”

“You too, Seraphina.” She was the type of woman Hollis wanted. Meek and unquestioning. Beautiful and agreeable. Cami never could have been that—not long-term anyway. And for the briefest of moments, she wondered if Seraphina ever felt like a phony too.

Seraphina turned and left the room, the click of her heels disappearing down the hall. Hollis turned back to Cami. “Listen, I don’t have any more time for this. What is it you want? Money?”

“Money? For what? You just insisted I was a liar.”

His jaw clenched, and he stepped forward threateningly. She was tempted to step back but held her ground. “It doesn’t matter. Jesus Christ, do you know what this might do to me? Even the hint of this. It’s the last fucking thing I need.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m not going to go public with any accusations or ask you to take any tests,” she said.

“I had a baby boy. I put him up for adoption, but his adoptive family died. He’s back with me now, and I wanted you to know.

Whether you believe it or not, he’s your son.

If you don’t want anything to do with him, that’s fine.

Your loss. Again, I just wanted you to know.

And I needed to ask if you were contacted by anyone asking if you wanted a do-over? ”

Hollis blinked and gave his head a small shake as though trying to catch up with all she’d just said. She honestly couldn’t blame him. She’d just said a lot. And if he was being honest and had convinced himself that he didn’t have a child, then she’d expect him to need a moment.

“A do-over? What? No. Why? What does that even mean?”

“He emailed you. Cyrus Sanders. He sent you a note to your campaign email and told you he was your son.”

Hollis squinted and brought a hand to his forehead. “I thought that was a prank. I get a lot of those. Mostly people looking for money. I ignored it.”

Well, that part was true anyway. She knew because Rex had told her. But hearing it from Hollis, and learning of the way he’d simply brushed it off, made her want to scratch his eyes out.

She took a step toward him, hands fisting by her sides.

“Somewhere, in the back of your egotistical head, you must have wondered if that was really your son reaching out to you. He asked for help . Even if you didn’t want to connect yourself to that boy, you could have called and told me.

You could have forwarded the email to me. You could have done something.”

“Again,” he said, “I don’t respond to pranks.”

“Because of your negligence, he was kidnapped. He could have been killed.” Her words were measured, but her blood chilled as she spoke her deepest fear. That she’d have been too late in saving him. That she’d have had to watch her son die, the same way she had her mother and sister.

Cami’s statement made Hollis pause, his expression speaking of what she judged to be honest confusion. “Kidnapped? What? By who?”

“The police are investigating. They don’t know.”

Hollis tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at her once more.

“Well, hopefully you’ll get that cleared up.

There are a lot of sickos out there. But it has nothing to do with me.

” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Now, Cami, it’s been interesting, but I’ve put up with enough.

My fiancée is waiting for me, and I’m in the middle of a significant campaign.

I don’t need this.” He dug in his back pocket and brought out a wallet and removed a stack of bills.

“Here,” he said, grabbing her hand and setting the money on her palm.

“There won’t be more where this came from, so don’t even try it.

I have a cadre of lawyers who would enjoy nothing more than ruining you.

And, Cami, I’d advise you to stick to your word and not involve me in more of this bullshit.

I won’t have you derail me from my plans like you tried to do before I left for Princeton.

You can’t possibly imagine the stress I’m under. ”

Then he stuffed the wallet back in his pocket and left.

Cami stared at the open door he’d just exited through for several moments. She honestly didn’t know whether to find something to throw or to laugh.

You can’t possibly imagine the stress I’m under.

No, Hollis, I couldn’t possibly.

She stepped over to the counter and put the money there, hoping the janitorial staff would see it as a tip and take it. She wanted nothing to do with Hollis’s attempt at a payoff with what looked like under two hundred bucks.

She left the dressing room and walked downstairs, bracing to run into Hollis or Seraphina again. But the auditorium was mostly empty, only a few remaining loiterers and staff who were cleaning up.

She made her way to her car and then sat there staring out the windshield, going over her visit with Hollis, and parsing through the things he’d said. There was no question about the fact that he was still self-involved, but his reactions had seemed legitimate and somewhat easy to read.

He’d confirmed that he’d been the one to receive the email and had ignored it. If only he’d had the decency to forward it to her, she might have done something before a kidnapper took Cyrus and put him in danger.

She could have answered his cry for help.

Someone had done something, though, even if it was after the fact. Someone had given her the necessary information to free her child.

If it wasn’t Hollis, then who? And why?