man, though, was so not what she expected. When he smiled at her again, the tickle became a tingle, and the reminder she was handcuffed to him and alone in a windowless room came rushing back.
Complete with full-color visuals.
She cleared her throat. “I, um—”
Officer Richards returned then, sparing her from saying something stupid. “We get more sit-ins than handcuffing, so I don’t get to use these much.” He worked the giant handles experimentally.
Brady stood and pulled up the sleeve of his coat and unbuttoned his cuff to roll it back out of the way. “Not exactly the confidence I was hoping for. I’d like to keep my wrist attached.”
The officer just grinned. “Who’s first?”
“Ladies first.” Brady moved their arms to the center of the table. “Aspyn?”
She pushed up her sleeve and slid her bracelets up, away from the metal cuff. “I’m not sure I want to be first. I like my wrist, too.”
Despite the banter between the men, Officer Richards handled the bolt cutters with ease and soon her wrist was free. She rubbed the red mark circling her skin as another squeeze of the enormous handles let Brady pull his wrist free as well.
Brady moved on immediately, rebuttoning his cuff and shaking the officer’s hand. Whatever “moment” they’d shared, it was over now, and Brady was back to the rather stiff and aloof man she’d jumped in an elevator with. It seemed a shame, like a loss. “Thanks. Unless you need something from me …” Officer Richards shook his head. “Good. Bye, Robert. Aspyn, it’s been … interesting meeting you.”
“And you. I hope the rest of your day is uneventful.”
“That would be nice.” Then Brady was gone, and the room felt big and empty.
Aspyn grabbed her bag and inched toward the door. “Have a nice day, Officer—”
“Not so fast.”
Thirty uncomfortable minutes later, Aspyn was able to leave with Officer Richards’s warnings still ringing in her ears. The man certainly didn’t like scenes in his building or on the steps.
Most of the protestors had dispersed and only a few hard-core activists remained with Jackie, the head of the People’s Planet Initiative and the protest organizer. Even they seemed to have lost much of their energy, though. She waved as she came down the steps, and Jackie crossed the street to meet her. “I videoed the whole thing. It was brilliant. Your parents are going to be so proud.”
“You think?” That brought a smile to her face. Living up to her legacy didn’t seem quite so daunting at the moment.
“I know. I’ll upload it and you can send them the link.”
“They’re still doing recovery in Haiti. They’re not exactly in a WiFi hotspot most of the time.”
“Well, you’ll be able to show it to them eventually. Their little girl’s first time.” She held up the small video camera. “So, Aspyn Breedlove, how did it feel to leave a protest in handcuffs?”
She frowned into the camera. “It wasn’t like that, Jackie. It was a stupid stunt, and Kirby was way out of line.”
“But you got someone’s attention. That’s a great first step.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it’s made me hopeful. Eventually, maybe someone will start listening to us. That’s all I really want.” Jackie raised an eyebrow at her. “Okay,” Aspen corrected, “so it’s the start of what I want—what we all want. Someone to actually listen to us.”
Jackie turned off the camera. “Go on home. You’ve done enough here today.”
Aspyn thought about Brady’s offer to help. “We’ll see, I guess.” At Jackie’s confused look, she added, “I’ll explain later.” No sense getting into any of that and getting anyone’s hopes up until it came to pass.
As she headed to the Metro station, the absurdity of the day finally hit her. In all honesty, there wasn’t that much to explain—beyond the fact she’d found out that Brady Marshall was devastating up close, and she certainly wasn’t sharing that information with the public. Even if she happened to get a meeting with someone in his dad’s office, she still couldn’t share the how. Not that anyone would believe her anyway …
She settled into the seat for the trip out of the city, proud of herself for what little she might have managed to accomplish today. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. One step at a time.
The familiar sway and rattle of the train lulled her and she closed her eyes. Brady Marshall’s face was waiting for her. A little sigh escaped before she could help it. But then that warm feeling returned to her chest.
She was passionate. She was sincere.
And forty-eight hours later, she was an Internet phenomenon.
CHAPTER TWO
“YOU getting handcuffed to a hippie is just priceless. I took a screen shot and made it the wallpaper on my desktop. And Finn had one of his editing guys recut and redub it and it’s hysterical. I’ll send you the video.”
Brady could barely understand Ethan through the laughter. He leaned his head against the seat back as the limo inched its way through traffic and pinched the bridge of his nose to fight back the rapidly growing headache.
This was the final straw. He wasn’t answering his phone again today. Brady had already dealt with the press, his grandparents and the chair of the party’s Senatorial Reelection Committee because some half-cracked tree-hugger decided to pull a stupid stunt. A video of the event had gone viral overnight, and the voice-over of Aspyn saying, “It’s all I want … Someone to actually listen to us,” had become a rallying cry for every frustrated activist in the country. By Monday, she was everywhere on the Internet; by Tuesday, the press had really caught on and doubled-down on their coverage. The bloggers and pundits were eating it up, and Aspyn was now the figurehead of a movement that hadn’t existed three days ago.
And he’d been dragged into it as the symbol of old-school, establishment politics. It didn’t seem to matter he wasn’t a politician; he could listen all day long and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference. As a Marshall, his name alone was all they needed to make their point.
He’d be drawing on what little patience he had left just to get through the meeting with his father and the new campaign consultants. He had none to spare for his brothers—either of them. “It’s not half as interesting as the talking heads make it out to be.”
“But it’s still funny. Oh, and Lily wants me to remind you that at least she never made the handcuffed ‘walk of shame’ on the national news.”
Ethan’s fiancée had an extensive juvenile record that, for the most part, they’d managed to keep from becoming blog fodder. Not that Ethan cared one way or the other—not who knew about Lily’s past nor what trouble it might cause politically to have a former delinquent in the family. Lily was nice enough, and he was glad his brother was happy, but she’d caused more than one headache for him already. “Is there an actual purpose for your call, Ethan?”
