All that was left was to win the Senate. And today was the day of the floor vote. We’d stopped business as usual here at Lise in order to watch, turning it into a party, with green balloons, vegan tacos and cupcakes. There was a wall of champagne bottles, which Dakota swore we were opening no matter which way the votes fell—we would use the bubbles to celebrate, or we’d use them to wallow. I looked at the champagne longingly. Stupid alcohol-free self-improvement project.
On one side of me, Dakota squeezed my hand. On the other side, Wendy bit her nails, then caught me looking and yanked her hand away. “Tell me again what McBuck said.”
“He said he was intrigued by my proposition to open the manufacturing center in Hudson County.”
“Intrigued? That’s it?”
I felt like biting my own nails. “He said he needed more time to think, and I’d know his answer when he voted.”
“Sadist,” Wendy hissed. “People who enjoy power that much should never be given any.”
“I think he’s going to vote yes,” Dakota said optimistically.
“Shhhh, it’s starting.” I straightened as the lieutenant governor stepped to the lectern on-screen and dropped his head to the mic.
“Senate Bill 3,” he announced, “was assigned to the Natural Resources and Economic Development Committee. It has now been cleared by that committee, read and debated on the floor. It is time for the floor to vote.”
“I think I might pass out,” Dakota whispered. “Wake me when it’s over, but only if we win.”
“Colleagues,” the lieutenant governor intoned. “When I call your name, please respond yea or no. Senator Rodriguez.”
Rodriguez leaned over her microphone. “Yea.”
“Yes!” I pumped my fist, and the entire Lise office cheered along with me. Okay, so it wasn’t a surprise. Rodriguez had been a sure thing. But still, one step closer.
“Senator Abington.”
Abington had a hard time finding his mic. Maybe on account of being so old his eyelids drooped over his eyes. “No,” he coughed.
“Boo,”my colleagues called at the screen. I steeled myself. That was okay. That was expected. Abington was a dinosaur, and we just needed two-thirds to win.
I felt a sudden pang of loneliness, despite being surrounded by Dakota, Wendy and all the people I worked with. The one person I’d imagined sharing this moment with, the person who most deserved to be here, was gone. It had been two days, and I’d heard nothing. Except for the strange Easter egg he’d left with Anita and the polling results—which I was grateful for, don’t get me wrong—he’d dropped off the face of the planet. I’d even sucked it up and logged on to my Facebook account, which was a dumpster fire of notifications, just to send him a message. And still, nothing. For the millionth time, I wondered what the important thing was he’d left to do. In the back of my head, a tiny voice whispered that I might need to come to grips with the fact that, just like five years ago, Ben had chosen the high road, and it had led him far away from me.
The votes continued, a mix of yeas and nos, though I was grateful to see the votes generally trending in the yea direction. Finally, it came down to the three people we’d always known it would: Senators Janus, Wayne and McBuck. Those inscrutable bastards. Win or lose, I would at least be happy to stop seeing their faces in my dreams every night. The next time the thoughtI wonder what Roy McBuck truly wants and needs, and how I can give it to himcrossed my mind, I hoped it would be in hell. Which I would assume I’d arrive at after truly earning it here in my stint on earth.
“Senator Janus,” the lieutenant governor prompted.
Janus leaned forward and flashed a Willie Nelson–style peace sign. “Yea.”
Excellent.Also, what a tool.
“Good, good, good,” Wendy muttered, her eyes flickering over the screen, counting votes.
“Senator Wayne?”
The old man cleared his throat. “An emphatic yea.”
Thank you, Ely Gunther, you wonderful human.
“Okay, well, we don’t really need the editorializing, as you know, Senator, but your vote is recorded.”
“Jesus Christ,” Wendy said, abandoning all pretense and simply chewing her nails. “Only one more. Please, please.”
“And Senator McBuck?”
Dakota squeezed my hand so hard I lost circulation. But I didn’t care. I would gladly trade my hand for a yes. “Come on, McBuck,” I whispered. “You old lug, do the right thing.”
McBuck whispered into the microphone.
