I’d rather have my liver torn out by rabid wolves and fed to me on sandspur stalks. “I thought we did that once already and you hated my guts?” I’m done trying to be nice to her. She gets honesty from me, rude or not. I don’t owe her anything.
My only allegiance is to Elliot.
Well, and Leo, duh.
She waves my comment away. “I never said that. I was irritated at Elliot for pawning me off on a staffer and dodging my requests for time to speak with him alone.”
I resist the urge to hurl my wineglass at her. “The vice president.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
I take a step toward her. “No, that’snotwhat you said.” She’s going to learn this lesson if I have to beat it into her skull. “You used his first name. Unless he is present andtellsyou that you can address him by his first name duringthatparticular encounter, youwillalways refer to him as either ‘the vice president,’ ‘Mister Vice President,’ or ‘Vice President Woodley.’ I will also accept ‘Mister Woodley.’”
She snorts. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve known him—”
“I amnotkidding.”
Her smile fades as she studies my expression for a moment. “I’m his sister’s best friend. I’ve known him foryears.”
“I don’t care who you are or how long you’ve known him. You arenothis sister, or his mother, or his wife.Protocoldictates that you, a seated member of the House of Representatives, address him with respect for the office, regardless of what you think or feel about him as a person, or how long you’ve known him.”
She actually huffs and I realize I’ve gotten under her skin. “Look, who do you think—”
I drop Dom tone on her. “Grace. You willnotwin this one. Either you stop trying, or this conversation is over. I’m serious.”
She re-evaluates me. “Sorry,” she mutters.
I stare at her, waiting her out to throw her off her game. She still must not realize I’m gay and obviously isn’t used to her wiles not working on me.
“You never answered my question,” is what she settles on.
“About dinner?”
“Yes. Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Do you think by taking the vice president’s body man and best friend out to dinner it means that you’ll earn yourself private time with the vice president?”
“I think by getting on your good side you might loosen up his calendar a little, yes. It is no secret that you control access to him.” She smiles. “My treat. Nothing to do with work, just personal. I’d like to get to know you better. We got off on the wrong foot and I’d really like a chance to make it up to you. I know Stella can be…tiring. Let me show you I’m not like her.”
That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Except it might have worked on someone not as well versed in it as I am, taught to recognize this kind of manipulative flattery by a retired Secret Service agent with a psychology degree.
“Well, if you’re asking me to dinner, it’ll need to be somewhere within my budget. I survive on a government employee’s salary.”
“I said I’d pay.”
“And I’m saying no to that. I refuse to do anything that might possibly put me afoul of an ethics investigation.”
“I’m allowed to take you out to dinner as friends.”
“And I’m saying no. You’re a seated member of Congress. We can dine out as ‘friends’ after you’re out of office.”
Not that I’d ever call her a “friend.”
She rolls her eyes and takes another sip of her drink. “Fine. Somewhere reasonably priced, then.”
“Then, yes, I should be able to have dinner with you tomorrow evening.” I don’t want to do this at all, but she’s afterwaymore than getting her “friends” face-time with Elliot. I need to find out exactly what that something is. I also don’t want to put it off until after the weekend trip. My schedule will grow even tighter the closer we get to the election. I might need every hour I can steal to counter her moves, and I don’t want to get caught flat-footed.
“I’m making you exactly zero promises,” I add. “I will not trade favors. You get no quid pro quo from me. If you know as much as you think you do about me, you’ll know that, too.”
