Maybe I can figure out a way not to hate her for fucking my boyfriend.
Except, of course, I guess the converse is true.
She’s been in a relationship with Chris far longer that what I had with him. Here I am, sweeping in and moving in with Chris.
Shit. And she’s not being theslightest bit bitchy or standoffish with me about it, either.
But I leave Jorge standing there with his chin resting on his ugly-ass Ferragamos as Shae naturally leans into my left side and I slide my left arm around her waist. “Senator Monroe, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” I shake with her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Jorge standing there, speechless.
Okay, tonight wasdefinitelyworth it just for this.
We end up taking our seats a few minutes later, and I stick with water. Shae has iced tea, but no alcohol. I don’t know if that’s due to an order by Chris or not.
As I sit there chatting with the others at our table—none of whom have outright asked what the fuck I’m doing there even though their curiosity iskillingthem—I’m aware of a wave of heads turningto look at me, a wave that likely corresponds with Jorge’s path through the room.
Oooh, I’mreallyenjoying this now.
Finally, Tom Simone, a GOP operative from Washington State sitting directly across the table from me grows a set and asks it. “Kevin, that was a very…interesting andimpassionedstatement you gave a few weeks ago. What are your future career plans?”
“He’s my campaign manager,”Shae chimes in with a smile, silencing the table.
I take a sip of water and enjoy the universally widened eyes surrounding us.
“Forpresident?” Tom asks.
Shae is a master of wide-eyed innocence. “Yes?”
I struggle and somehow succeed in not laughing.
We’re saved further entertainment by the master of ceremonies taking the podium on stage. Under the table, I offer her a fist bump, and she returnsit.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
* * * *
Thankfully, we’re out of there by ten. I no sooner slide into the back seat next to Shae and shut the door behind me than we exchange a grin and burst out laughing.
“Oh. My.God,” she says. “That wasthemost fun I’ve had at one of these things in a looong damn time. Did you see the looks on their faces when I first told them you’re my campaignmanager?”
“Yep. That was priceless.” I glance at my phone, which has been indo not disturbmode. I have five missed calls, ten text messages, and three voice mails.
None of them from Lauren or Chris.
An extremely unusual and suspiciously high volume of traffic, considering the virtual radio silence of the last week or so once the news cycle spun on without me.
Truthfully?
I really did havea good time. By this time tomorrow, everyone in DC—and more than a few who aren’t—will know I’m now Senator Samuels’ campaign manager.
Likely including my father.
Tomorrow, I’m spending the day with Chris. Monday, I hit the ground running without a chance to ease my way into the campaign process.
That chance would have been about twelve months ago.
We need a basic website no later than end-of-dayMonday, I need to get a treasure in place, open bank accounts, start the FEC and IRS paperwork hell death march, and hundreds of things I can’t even think about right now but which are lying in wait for me on my phone’s to-do list.
