Read Loving the Candidate (Capitol Affairs #2) for Free Online Page B

in dusty white sheets lined the attic, looking like odd humans waiting to attack. Each one I uncovered set off a cloud of dust. The attic was a treasure trove of antiques and memories. I rummaged around, and found old dresses from the fifties, hats and letter sweaters.
    A fishing vest with the lures still in it, and old fishing rods leaned against the wall. I spotted an old record player, with a record still in it. I cranked the player and a woman’s voice broke out in the blues through the crackle of the wobbly, black disc. I let her husky voice serenade me as I continued exploring. There was an old fan, which I switched on, and dust went up like smoke. The attic seemed to go on endlessly. I spent over an hour looking at vintage clothes, pictures, and furniture. In the back under several old records from the sixties and piles of eighties-style clothing, was a green trunk with Bon Jovi stickers covering the outside. It opened easily and to my surprise, journals, notebooks, and teenage girl keepsakes filled the inside. There were at least ten journals, books, and pictures.
    Old tarnished jewelry, and rock concert shirts, movie ticket stubs, and old Seventeen magazines from the eighties were strewn all over inside. Leafing through one of the journals, I read my mom’s words in her perfect cursive handwriting. Unable to bear the heat any longer, I decided to take them downstairs with me. I turned off the record player and fan. Dragging the trunk down the steps to the first floor by its handle was no easy task. It was so heavy and loud, clunking down the wooden staircase. After I pulled it down the many steps, I dragged it further, into the front living room, put on more music, turned up the fans, and got settled in to read.
    It was like any normal teenager’s journal. The first few entries didn’t say much. She went to a Bryan Adams concert and had her first sip of beer with a boy named John. She liked him, but he had bad breath and laughed too much. There was a formal dance and she did not want to attend. She hated the dress my grandmother had insisted she wear.
    The color, she wrote, was “gnarly” and way uncool. She stressed over honors courses, and like every teen, she hated her parents. I went through about four of these, reliving my mom’s high school experience through a notebook with Beatles lyrics doodled all over. I grabbed another from the pile. The writing became sloppier. I was shocked at what I read. It had to be a mistake.

Chapter 4
     
     
    With sweat dripping down my forehead and back, I forced myself to read on. Coffee wasn’t helping. I needed wine. A vat of it. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and sat back down with the entire bottle. There were more secrets and lies than a soap opera. I honestly didn’t think anything could shock me after the way my mom lived, but I was wrong.
    By the time I finished reading, I had drunk a bottle of wine, and got up to look for another. Thankfully, Alex came walking in the door.
    “Baby, you’ve been drinking. I see you went snooping. What is this stuff?” asked Alex as he came in and sat, pulling me back down on the floor with him. I was surrounded by notebooks, pictures, an empty bottle of wine, and wadded up tissues. I kissed him, dizzy from drinking too much.
    “Alex, you would not believe what I found.” I sniffled. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair looked a mess. I was sweaty, smelly, and plain nasty.
    “What? Tell me. You don’t need any more wine, do you?” He kissed my neck and nuzzled his face against me. He smelled so good and looked so tan.
    “I need a lot more wine, Alex. In fact, you may need to go buy more for us.” I stood up again to go to the refrigerator to get another bottle, but I wobbled on my feet. He was right, I didn’t need any more.
    “Let’s sit down and you tell me what you found first.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back down to him. I fell into his lap. Alex’s hair was messy, and he wore his khaki shorts,