This woman, Vanessa Grayson, is supposed to be the best. She’s run focus groups, spent time with my pollsters and Tyson, and even took the interns out for lunch one day. Her research into messaging has been thorough, and I need to listen to what she has to say.
By the time I get back to the bus, there’s no one left on it but Vanessa. Even Rita’s seat at the front of the bus is empty.
“Tyson took everyone to the pub down the street for lunch,” Vanessa says. “He said you can text him if you want him to bring back food for you.”
I slide into the other side of the kitchen booth from her, setting my phone down on the table.
“Okay.” I arch my brows. “You ready to get started?”
“I think I’ll grab a drink first. Do you want anything?”
I shake my head and look down at the stack of papers on the table in front of me.
“These demographics are a little surprising,” I say, scanning a chart.
“How so?”
I look over and see that she just took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and she’s closing it.
“I thought I’d poll with more likely votes from college-educated women,” I say.
“Yeah, your opponent is a self-made female millionaire, so she’s got that demographic locked up.”
Vanessa unscrews the cap from her water and takes a sip, then sets the bottle down on the counter. She reaches for the top button of her red blouse and unbuttons it.
“It’s hot in here, don’t you think?” She runs a fingertip down the line between her breasts, now exposed thanks to the button she undid.
Fuck. I don’t need this right now. Alone on my bus with a woman, while false allegations about another woman and me are still swirling? I’m kicking Tyson’s ass for putting me in this position.
“You know, it is hot,” I lie, standing up. “I could really go for a cold beer. I’m gonna run down to that pub and get lunch with the others.”
“What?” Vanessa furrows her brow. “But what about our meeting?”
I hold up the stack of papers she left on the table. “I think I need to go over all this first. Then Tyson and I will sit down with you.”
“I’m going to go over it with you now. Tyson doesn’t need to be here.”
She takes a step closer to me, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder. I give her a tight smile.
“You know, I’m late calling my wife back. I’m gonna call her on the way to the pub. Can we bring anything back for you?”
“No, I’m fine, but—”
I turn and leave, not letting her finish. I’m not taking any chances. If she tries to get with me and I turn her down, which I would, she could get pissed and say it was me who hit on her.
From Dominic Marino to my own coms strategist, I’m having to keep it from looking like I’m in bed with people I’m not. I don’t have time for this shit. Legitimate campaigning is hard enough.
I make it to the pub in five minutes, and Tyson gives me a confused look as soon as he sees me.
“Outside. Now.” I scowl at him, and he drops a French fry in midair.
“What’s going on?” he asks in a low tone from the alley behind the pub.
“Don’t ever leave me alone with a woman again unless it’s my wife.”
Tyson’s eyes widen. “Oh. You mean…shit.”
“It’s fine this time, I got out of it, but it can’t happen again.”
