Chapter Ten
The next evening, knowing Leo’s at the event with President-elect Samuels and Elliot Woodley has me feeling a little jealous, but I tamp it down.
There’s no room for that kind of immaturity in this if I seriously want to pursue a relationship with Leo.
And I do seriously want to pursue a relationship with him.
I am disappointed that we’re not crossing that big bridge until January, though.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Again, I’m trying to be mature, and all that bullshit.
Tonight is damp and bitterly cold, yet I decide to walk to the club after all. I’m feeling…emotionallyitchy, and the walk will do me good. I know Leo worries about my safety but I’m no noob. I’ve survived this long, including knowing how to fit in and not draw attention to myself.
I leave my wallet at the hotel and take my ID, one pre-paid debit card I use for outings like this, and less than fifty dollars in cash. I also take my work and personal cell phones, because Leo told me to always carry them on me. If someone wants to rob me, I’ll gladly hand over my money and the debit card. While I’d be pissed off, it’s not like they can wipe out my bank account. After grabbing dinner at a restaurant two doors down from the hotel, I head to the club.
And I wear Leo’s gloves, scarf, and hat. Despite the weather, I’m warm, especially with my brisk walking pace. It’s not raining right now, although it was earlier. If it looks like it’ll start raining again, I can always call a ride-share or hail a cab. I duck into a drugstore on the way and pick up a pair of ear plugs, because I really don’t want to go deaf tonight, and I’m certain the bands will be loud.
I’ve watched bands play in all sorts of clubs, sketchy and upscale, from Atlanta, to Miami, to Tampa, to St. Pete, and Orlando. Sure, the neighborhood where this club is located probably isn’t the best, but I don’t look like I’m flashy or rich. With the hat and scarf swaddling my head and face, only my eyeglasses are visible. I’m wearing my heavy coat, jeans, and sneakers, and I can run pretty fast, if I have to.
Another reason I want to walk is I’ve missed walking, as crazy as it sounds. Here in DC, with my work, I’m moving so fast that walking anywhere more than ten minutes away isn’t feasible. Secret Service or Leo ferries me around.
Tonight allows me to stretch my brain as much as my legs. I have the initial plans for everything roughed out, but in light of my recent suspicions, I’m especially stressing over the vice president-elect’s office and residence.
Yeah, I want Elliot Woodley to like me and like what I do for him, since I’m pretty sure he’s Leo’s “partner.” I don’t want him to hate me and ask Leo to send me away before Leo and I even get a chance to see if we could have something together. That means I want to make a great impression on Elliot. I can’t outright ask Leo for his opinion, either, because I don’t want him to know I suspect Elliot is his partner.
Okay, it’s a little odd, this ethical non-monogamy, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
Especially if it means a chance to be with Leo long-term.
Leo’s hot and we perfectly click in so many ways. Even thinking about the look in his eyes and his tone of voice last night when he was questioning me about tonight hardens my cock.
I wonder if Leo spanks Elliot Woodley’s ass? Or if Elliot likes to be tied up? Maybe he enjoys crawling around dressed as a pup, like some of the leather porn I’ve watched. Whatever the man’s kinks, I know Elliot’s not the Top between them. Not from what I’ve witnessed of Leo and him together, and not from what I now know about Leo and his needs within a relationship.
The club is pretty busy. While the neighborhood isn’t ritzy, it’s far from the worst place I’ve ever been. I’m early, so I spend time out in the lobby waiting in line for a soda and staring at the architecture. The building was an old theater. While it hurts my heart a little that they haven’t done a better job preserving the façade inside the main auditorium area, and its two balconies, it’s still imbued with enough of a gorgeous vibe to make it interesting and give it character.
At least they haven’t painted over all the gilt on the lobby’s original ornate trim.
I don’t take off my coat, but I shove the gloves, scarf, and hat deep into my pockets, on top of my phones, so I don’t have to worry about pickpockets.
I opt to watch the first band from the lower balcony, because the floor is crowded with an already impressive throng pressing against the barrier close to the stage. The mosh pit hasn’t fired up quite yet, but they’re already getting a little aggressive ahead of the first act starting to play, and I’d rather not duck and weave down there.
Because my temporary salary gives me a slight financial cushion, the other day I splurged and bought albums from all three of tonight’s acts, so I could appreciate their music better. I can sing along with them and actually know the words. The first band is frickingamazing. Even better than their albums. For a while, nothing rolls through my brain except the bass throbbing from the speakers. I love watching live music and letting go of the rest of the world while losing myself in the crowd.
The first band finishes their set and the house lights come up so the crew can change things over. I head downstairs to the bathroom and to get another soda. There, I take a few minutes looking around at the architecture again, because it’s sort of what Ido.
I can’t help it—buildings fascinate me, and it’sliterallymy job. If it wasn’t for the fact that I don’t want people to see I have a phone, I’d take it out and snap pictures of architectural elements.
At some point, I’d like to research the history of this building, but I really don’t have the energy to do what amounts to work during what little free time I get right now. Tonight’s venture is a rarity, and mostly because everyone else from the office is at the event tonight.
I’m not behind in my project plan, but I don’t want to slack off and end up that way, either. My current focus is combing through the government’s inventory to complete the designs I’ve roughed out. Sometimes, I choose pieces to use, but then when I visit the warehouse and see them in person, I realize they won’t work in the space I’d planned, or they won’t work with other pieces I want to include, or with the color scheme.
It wouldn’t be nearly as nerve-wracking if the job was designing a private home for Joe Nobody.
This is for the future president and vice president of the United States. It’s a massive feather in my portfolio, so I can’t afford to fuck it up.
I also can’t afford to fuck it up for all the personal reasons.
