Chapter Four
A Few Weeks Later
November, the Friday after Election Day.
It’s Friday evening, and I’m home in DC for the first time in three weeks following an overseas trip to the Philippines, Japan, and Australia, working as lead agent for a trip protecting the Secretary of State. I now have four days off to myself.
What do I do?
Well, after stopping by Shae’s townhouseand pounding out a little frustration on her ass before dumping a loadintosame said shapely ass, I grab myself an order of Pad Thai takeout and head home to my condo. She’s got a charity dinner she’s attending tonight, so we can’t hang for a while.
This is the sucky part of this arrangement—I don’t have…companionship.
I definitely don’t have time for a relationship, though.
I mean, yeah,there are guys who’d kill to have what I’ve had with her for the past four years, without the complication of her being a sitting US Senator. While I was out of town she had private meetings with two other potential campaign managers, but she wasn’t thrilled enough with either one’s ability to run a national campaign for POTUS.
Which is why she’s holding off publicly declaring her intentions.If she can’t find a good campaign manager soon, she’ll run for re-election to the Senate.
If she does run for POTUS, Shea will need someone who can not only grasp the larger playing field, but also stand up to her and manage her moods. I’ve quietly had my ear to the ground, except leaving the country for work temporarily took me out of the loop.
Never dreamed I’d be dipping my toe into politics.I’m a couple of months into forty-eight, able to take my retirement when I turn fifty. Which will happen right before the Democratic National Convention.
Perfect timing. I plan to work through the presidential election and then retire.
All I have to do is keep what Shea and I have on the down-low until then. Then I can retire, start life in the public sector, and it won’t matter if people seeus together.
I’ve already got a couple of security firms extending standing offers to me to join their firms. They like career protective agents, because we bring a shit-ton of specialized knowledge and training to the table.
For now, I need to survive the next couple of years.
Early tomorrow morning, I’m joining Shea at her townhouse for another round of stress release for both of us, followedby a discussion regarding another group of potentials for which she wants me to gather intel.
Tonight, I will engage in my second-favorite pastime, next to fucking and spanking Shea, and the only way in which I am a masochist, outside of my job.
I turn on Kev’s show. Once that ends, I’ll go through my DVR and start catching up on the episodes I missed during my trip. I don’t care that it’s oldnews at this point.
All I care about is that it’shim.
No, I don’t agree with his network’s politics. Atall. I’m definitely a liberal through and through, and, honestly? I’m disappointed in Kev for remaining with the GOP. I’m not exactly in the closet with my sexuality, but my colleagues assume I’m straight, I’m sure.
I’ve made it home with ten minutes to spare before his show airs live atseven p.m. DC time. After locking my sidearm in my gun safe, I grab the last bottle of beer from my fridge, head for the living room…
And prepare to hold on to my heart.
I can still see the guy I made love to our last night together twenty years ago. I hate those goddamned contacts he wears. His natural light blue eye color looks so much better on him, but I get it. It’s likely a network thing.He rarely wears his glasses on-air, and when he does, it’s probably due to a headache, because he usually looks exhausted those evenings. I know from following his social media feeds that he sometimes suffers debilitating migraines. Every once in a while he unexpectedly hands his show off to someone else, and he nearly always posts soon after to his social media accounts to confirm it’s a headache.
I worry about him during these times, which is fucking stupid, yes.
Guy ghosted on me.
Obviously he wasn’t as ready to venture out of his closet as he said he was. Maybe he doesn’t even think about me. Maybe all I was to him was a way to finally scratch his itch. Maybe I’m nothing more than a lovesick asshole hung up on and creepily obsessing over a guy I can only forever watch from afar.
Chasing him couldn’t happen back then. Not with his father being an asshole of a congressman and me busting ass in my career. I wasn’t going to make waves that could splash me and derail my plans. If his father hadn’t been such a dick, okay, maybe I would have chased Kev, just a little.
But Kev had towantthis. Wantus.
Under other circumstances, I would have contacted Kevin after a couple ofweeks and given him a chance to explain himself, or at least to give myself closure. But he needed to put forth a little effort of his own, if this was meant to work. I was then, and still am, on Facebook. I told him all about me. He could easily find me with literally thirty seconds of effort and relatively poor Google-Fu skills. He is a fucking reporter who covers the DC political scene. He couldhave easily found me, if he’d wanted to.
