Chapter Thirty-Five
I take my time making my way to the restaurant and arrive fifteen minutes early. I still haven’t turned on my personal cell—I left it at home. My work and campaign cells remain quiet, though.
Alexa blows in five minutes late in a smiling, giggling rush, her cheeks flushed. “Sorry!” She leans in and pecks me on the cheek and throws her arms around me in a hug that’s over before I can register it or react. “Been waiting long?”
“No, just got here,” I lie. I signal to the hostess that we’re ready to be seated. At least it’s early and the dinner rush hasn’t started yet. I sit with my back to the door, unlike Leo usually did. I’m not armed, and I’m not looking to be recognized.
That’s despite countless chastisements by Leo to always sit facing a door and my back to the wall if I’m not with him, so I can see if anyone comes through the door armed, to give me time to duck out the back. Something I did do while I was in Florida, I’ll have to admit.
Tonight, however, I’m feeling rebellious. It’s like a subtlefuck-youto the sadist.
I’m a grown-ass adult. I’ll sit wherever the hell I want.
Besides in this chair, I can see one of the TVs over the bar, which is playing CNN and on which they’re talking about today’s developments. I can’t read the captions from here, even with my glasses.
At least they’re not showingthevideo.
One benefit of not having a car in DC is not worrying about getting in trouble for drunk driving. I order myself a martini and a glass of water to start with and settle in to chat with my “date.”
I can tell she’s eager to try to get dirt on the administration from me, stroking my ego in hopes I’ll start bragging, but she’s an amateur.
My education came at the hands of aliteralMaster.
I smile and nod in all the right places and easily divert her questions, pivoting her into talking about herself.
Because she loves to talk about herself and her career and her aspirations. It gets easier to make her do that, too, the drunker she gets.
We’re finishing our salads and awaiting our main course when she leans in. She’s on her fourth drink, and I’m still nursing martini number two, interspersed with a lot of water.
“So, what’s it like living with the vice president? Does he have any hobbies, or a secret girlfriend, or something?”
Wow, she’sreallydrunk. “Well, I pay rent, there’s housekeeping included, my roommate is a very visible government official, all our groceries are delivered for us, and we have the best security system in the world.” I swirl my glass and smile as I say it. I know how to play a flirty straight dude.
“You ever allowed to bring home overnight guests?”
I shrug. “Doubtful. Why? Are you volunteering to be one?” I wink, making her giggle again.
I’ve never been with a woman. No desire to, either. Nothing against them, obviously, just not my jam. I’d feel like that even if I wasn’t doubly taken by Elliot and—
Well, I’m taken by Elliot.
Who knows if I’ll be doubly taken by Leo?
She bites her lower lip and leans forward, exposing more cleavage. I let my gaze drift there for a moment, because it’s expected of me.
Her finger traces the rim of her glass. “It’d be so cool to see the inside of the vice president’s residence.”
“I can show you pictures from my portfolio after the decorating was finished.”
Another giggle. “Silly. I mean in person.”
I can also play coy with the best of them. I prop my left elbow on the table, my chin resting in my palm. “It’d be easier for me to get you a tour of the White House residence. How about that?”
A man’s hand painfully clamps down on the nape of my neck. Reflexively, I’m about to deliver an elbow to the asshole’s midsection, when he also clamps a hand onto my left wrist, around my bracelet, and speaks.
“Jordan. Fancy running intoyouhere.”
Motherfucker.
