The Power and the Glory. Kimberly Lang

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?”

      “Not really.” Brady could almost hear Ethan’s shrug. “Just wanted to annoy you.”

      “You succeeded.”

      “So, out of curiosity, did you listen to her?”

      “Sort of. I told her I’d try to get her a meeting with one of the staffers. She seemed happy enough with that until all this broke loose.”

      “She’s tapped into something in the people’s psyche. You’re practically getting wall-to-wall coverage.”

      Like he didn’t know that already. “People are frustrated with the system. What’s new about that? On an otherwise slow news day, a pretty girl riding Internet-fueled fame makes the headlines. This will pass.” Hopefully very soon.

      “So you think she’s pretty?”

      Sometimes Ethan could display stunning acts of immaturity strictly to try to get a rise out of him. Today was not a good day to take the bait. “Does it matter?”

      “I wouldn’t have thought you’d go for the whole antiestablishment, counterculture type. She falls outside your norm—and you never fall outside your norm.”

      The headache behind his eyes throbbed. “Must you be a complete idiot all the time?”

      “You didn’t answer my question.”

      “Because you’re being an idiot.” The limo pulled to a stop at his father’s town house. “And I now have to go do damage control on this. Campaign staff should not be getting more air time than the candidate.”

      “Uh-oh, sounds like the senator’s a little upset about this.” Ethan didn’t bother to cloak his bitterness. “Good.”

      “Maybe for you, but not for me. I’d rather not be wasting time spinning ridiculous press. I’m the one who has to get him reelected.”

      “It was your choice to work for him.”

      “Yes. Because I can see beyond my own petty interests and childhood issues best worked out with a therapist.”

      Ethan muttered something under his breath, but Brady wasn’t interested and hung up after a terse “goodbye.” Ethan couldn’t get past his own problems with their father to see the bigger picture. Douglas Marshall might be a lousy excuse for a father, but he was a damn good senator. Granddad’s legacy, oddly enough, was in good hands.

      And that’s what was important, even though Ethan couldn’t see it. The mission that drove his family was coded into his DNA. Granddad had been a lion in the Senate, a forceful voice and advocate. Their father was carrying on that tradition, and as long as that was the case, Brady would fight to keep him in that seat.

      Which meant he needed to turn the attention away from Aspyn Breedlove and back to the issues that really meant something.

      He climbed the steps two at a time and let himself in.