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Jeryd didn’t sign up to be Roman’s official spokesperson but resigned to it once he was shoved into the fray by a weak hand and sniffled, muffled “I can’t do this.”
To a degree, he couldn’t necessarily blame Roman for the immediate white flag raised as soon as the crowds milled into the cathedral on the dreary January morning. Death after death after death wracked the Roy family with no avail; first Logan, then Kendall three weeks later, and now Connor to ring in the New Year. Three funerals in a shorter timespan than a hockey season. And Jeryd had caused Connor’s and Roman had caused Kendall’s and no one was really to blame for Logan’s besides old age and God finally winning out—though occasionally on the nights Roman told Jeryd to grip him really hard and treat him like dog, a small sentiment slipped from the Roy’s mouth, a quiet litany of apologizing to his father for letting him go.
It wasn’t healthy but Jeryd would be lying if he said the teary confession into a soaked pillow didn’t keep him rock hard.
It appeared Shiv had the same idea as her brother. Jeryd watched as she whispered into the ear of a dark-haired woman and promptly turned around back to her husband, moving almost fast enough to hide slight twist of emotion on her face that hadn’t left since he saw her last at Kendall’s sendoff.
And now the dark-haired woman was coming straight towards him. Wonderful.
“So you’re the mouthpiece for—” Jeryd gestured towards Shiv, standing off in the back corner of the cathedral “—the two passenger carriage over there?”
“I’m Karolina,” the woman replied instead, hand extended towards him and her expression blank except for a vague, tense politeness. Not overly fawning —that’d been the norm since November and had slowly begun to grow stale and faux. If anything, she was completely unfazed she was speaking to the President-Elect.
Jeryd cocked an eyebrow as he shook her hand. “First name basis?”
“I’m aware Novotney is a bit of a mouthful.”
“Polish? Ukrainian? Czech? Some sort of eastern European—”
“Czech.” Her smile relaxed only the slightest, her guard coming back up as she spoke again. “And Mencken is German, if I’m not mistaken.”
He nodded, letting a smile come to his face. Not anything real; if anything, his politeness was just as routine as hers. Roman didn’t pay for a premium performance so Jeryd was putting in minimal effort. “Ah—Jeryd, first name basis, right?”
“Right,” Karolina echoed. “So, Jeryd, ”—he could see the barely visible discomfort on her face from referring to him as so; a gesture of camaraderie from him turned unsettling as planned, oh this is fun —“I just wanted to ask how Mr. Roy is doing.”
“She did.” Jeryd pointed over to Shiv, who he could see was glancing off at the front of the church, in the direction of Roman. “ Mrs. Roy wants to know how her brother’s doing.”
“I’m only inquiring—”
“Come on, you can just say Shiv—”
“—the current state of Mr. Roy—”
“—we both know you’re only talking to me because of her—”
“—in the aftermath of Connor’s death.”
“—seriously, cut the crap, I can talk to Mrs. Wambsgans over there myself.”
“She’s not Mrs. Wambsgans,” Karolina replied. It was the closest she’d gotten to being shitty with him, staring him down directly in the eyes with a clipped tone. “And she would prefer not to talk to Roman. I assume he feels the same since he sent you over here.”
“Hey, hey, maybe I just wanted to talk? He’s not the one giving orders. I’m the one sitting in the Oval Office.” Fair and true enough; Roman didn’t exactly tell him to man the phones, so to speak. Jeryd sort of allowed himself to be directed around. But it was in his best interests to manage Roy-to-Roy communication. One wrong move and it’d all spiral. Roman arguing with his sister at the funeral like two bickering children could call ATN’s leadership into question, making the President’s prime choice of news network look like the circus it most certainly is, and then suddenly the whispers of illegitimacy the Mencken transition team worked so hard to silence would have their chance to sneak out of the woodwork again.
Karolina mused softly to herself, looking past him. “Not yet.”
“Hm?” Lost in the importance of his own thoughts, he didn’t catch what she was focused on, much less what she was saying.
“Well, you’re not in the Oval Office yet. Three weeks, right? Inauguration Day?”
“I’ve walked around the place. Sat in the chair. It’s good as mine.”
She only nodded, the tense smile returning to her face with a slight raise of her eyebrows. “I’m sure Roman’s happy about that.”
“It’s beneficial for him.” Jeryd shrugged. “Always good for the leaders of American industry to have a relationship with the President.”
Karolina’s eyes stayed locked behind him and Jeryd instinctively turned around. It wasn’t curiosity or paranoia—if anything, the increased presence of security around him at all times made him more uneasy than the thought of threats—but a third sense. He likened it in his mind to a parent’s premonition-like knowledge of their own child, but that could be wildly off-base. He wouldn’t know.
He’s in her arms again. They’re awfully close, the two of them.
It was really such a pretty sight: Roman puffy-eyed and sobbing, the newly-widowed Willa Ferreyra stoically holding him. Her nose was scrunched. She’s holding her tears in. No worth in crying over spilled milk?
Something his and something once his. No use in being jealous over the union when both would be under his grasp soon enough. Connor’s death had cemented that reality, many thanks to him. A more befitting role than ambassador ever suited you, you old Charlie Foxtrot.
“You two have quite the relationship ,” Karolina said.
Jeryd pulled his eyes away from the pair, turning back to her. A smile came to his lips, drawing back a little harsher than before. “I could say the same about you and the missus. Sorry, not your missus.”
It was an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of them, the closest they’d come to real camaraderie. He knew her role, from her glances he could tell she knew his. Two mirrors reflecting each other back, two antidotes to loveless marriages—Roman might as well be married to his desk. Recognition of self through the other, or whatever they say.
“Oh?” His eyes flicked downward to her hand clasping the other tighter.
“Roman says you’re close to Shiv. Shoulder-to-cry-on type beat.” Jeryd glanced behind Karolina. Shiv’s eyes gazed forward as she held onto her husband’s hand outstretched between them; looking on to what he’d saw before, he was sure. She’s keeping him at arm’s length like he has the plague. You wouldn’t even think they’re married. Though he had to commend her, The hand was more comfort than he’d allow. “Smart of her to keep you around. An ear on walls of Waystar. Whispering her all your dirty little secrets”
Karolina only met him with a tight lipped smile.
“That’s why she keeps you around, right? Right.”
She opened her mouth for the briefest moment to speak, slowly closing it on the exhale to recollect for a moment with a slight nod and try again. “And I’m sure you keep yours around because you enjoy Roman’s mouth.”
Wasn’t expecting such a direct parry. Touché, Novotney.
“Piece,” she corrected, her smile less firm. More relaxed, more comfortable. “Mouthpiece. ATN is quite the tool.”
“I quite enjoy his mouth, sure, sure. Though he’s not too up to it these days.”
“Not doing too well?”
“Grief—gets caught in the throat like mucus, and he breathes all funny, it’s no good,” Jeryd replied, rubbing his fingers together. “Can’t get much done.”
Karolina went quiet for a moment, shifting slightly to look behind her. A sort of longing sat in her eyes; he could see it as she glanced back towards Shiv. Her tone was more hollow than sharp this time around. “I’m well aware of what you mean.”
He raised a brow. Sucking the strap?
“Not—” Karolina laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I can tell she’s grieving too. In her own way.”
“Shiv blames him, doesn’t she?” Jeryd had no qualms going there; he had no horse in this race.
“Not for all three.” Her immediate reply, factual and direct; she’s seasoned PR, that’s for sure. “Kendall more so. Connor was a crapshoot, Logan was a matter of time. But, Ken, yeah. She does.”
Jeryd pursed his lips and nodded, glancing down. He spoke as he looked back up. “He’s tried reaching out to her. No reply, not sure if you—”
“Shiv handles her own correspondence,” Karolina replied. Not cold but not exactly near-friendly like before.
“She’ll talk to him. Eventually.”
Karolina stood in silence for a moment, taking a breath and flicking her eyes between the two Roys. She settled back on Jeryd, her smile could almost be mistaken as bittersweet as her body stayed half-turned towards Shiv. “I should probably—” She gestured back, foot stepped to the side, beginning to walk away. “It was good to chat.”
Jeryd nodded. No answers out of the woman who doles them out for a living; typical. “Of course.” He reached his hand out to hers, she took it firmly. As he shook, Jeryd leaned in towards her and spoke softer than before. “We’re the ones they want, Karolina.”
It was meant to be sharp, manipulative— hell, I don’t know if Shiv even cares —but came out too genuine. His predatory smile tacked on did nothing to counteract the earnestness in his words. It briefly occurred to him that she probably didn’t need to hear that at all, that it was more of a reassurance to him than anything else: the deep-held insecurities of his own bubbling out to someone in his relative position. Where was the nearest bathroom. He needed to wash his mouth out with soap.
She didn’t acknowledge it in the moment. All Karolina did was pull away—her expression the vague, dull politeness of before—but as she glanced back at him before heading over to Shiv, her eyes softened the smallest bit.
Jeryd turned back over to Roman, gently prying him away from Willa and escorting the two of them to the front of the church under the cover of the crowd. Through the flurry of movement, he saw Karolina getting seated with the Wambsgans couple. Jeryd grasped Roman’s hand; Karolina took Shiv’s.
It wasn’t where they were needed, but where they were wanted.