“Joke’s on you,” I said, adjusting my suit so it wouldn’t wrinkle. “Kyle’s unemployed at the moment.”
Ben rolled his eyes.
“What’s that for?”
He slammed the door and stalked to the driver’s side.
“So, what about Sarah?” I asked again, as he settled in and buckled up.
He shot me a guilty look. “She’s a lobbyist. With McGraw & Klein.”
McGraw & Klein was a big-time firm. They had their hands in practically every Texas politician’s pockets. I whistled. “Political power couple.”
But why did McGraw & Klein feel so familiar? I could have sworn I’d just been reading about them...
Ben hummed, his eyes on the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the spot. “Uh, you know that connection I told you about, to Mendax Oil’s lobbying firm?”
Bingo.That was it. M & K shilled for Mendax.
My eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.Sarah?”
“Sarah.”
Well. Fuck.
Guess I was going to be hearing a lot more about her, like it or not.
6
Nothing to See Here
It was a bright, sunny day, and as far as the eye could see, wenches slung frothy beers in pointy-roofed taverns, minstrels wandered the grass, blowing high-pitched harmonies on their flutes, and fire-breathers danced in the middle of cheering circles. The smell of roasted meat-on-a-stick wafting through the air was enough to make even my vegetarian principles waffle.
Which figured. I was only ever tempted by things like Taco Bell, Krystal sliders and now this. Portable meat of dubious quality. Which was also, coincidentally, my nickname for my vibrator.
Ben nodded encouragingly to the man at the front of the line, who was doing a terrible job lobbing horseshoes around a stick. Probably because he was wearing a full suit of armor with only a small visor pushed back to see. It must be hot as hell in his armor-clad nether regions.
“You’ve got it this time,” Ben called, even though it was clear from the knight’s previous attempts that he truly did not.
Ben leaned close to me and held up his arms, letting his bell-shaped sleeves flap in the breeze. “I regret making such a compelling case for in-person outreach. Who knew Janus’s district was home to a quarter of the state’s festivals?”
“He loves those sweet, sweet tourist dollars.” I watched the knight whiff it and turn, shoulders slumped, to let the next person in line take her turn.
“Use your Twitter—uh, tweet-tweet messenger birds—to tell Senator Janus you support clean energy,” I called to the knight’s back.
I’d learned my lesson from having to set up and take down the booth at Comic-Con all by ourselves. This time around, I’d brought a Lise intern to do the dirty work. Kaitlyn, a UT undergrad communications major, adjusted the head on her dragon costume and dutifully gave the next customer her Green Machine stress ball and pamphlet.
I turned back to Ben. “Come on. It’s a beautiful day, and the Texas Renaissance Festival is the biggest in the country. You have to admit this is kind of cool.”
Even though modern politics was usually something the Texas Renaissance Festival liked to avoid for multiple reasons, I’d pulled some strings with an event planner friend who had an in with the festival planners, and scored this cool open-air hut in the middle of Little Medieval Germany. We’d gone with a “Return Texas to Ye Olde Ways of Yore” theme, with games connected to all kinds of green transportation: wagons, horses and dragons. Kaitlyn was our live dragon, which freed Ben and me up to be the lord and lady.
He glanced down at his tunic. “It is unexpectedly fun. Plus, this outfit sucks way less than the Comic-Con one. Hell, I’m pretty sure I saw Google executives wearing shirts like this to board meetings before I left California. I feel right at home.”
I nodded toward Kaitlyn. “She looks like she’s got it well in hand. Let’s wander and spread the good word.”
Kaitlyn gave me a panicked look as Ben and I slipped out of the hut with handfuls of pamphlets. “Uh, Ms. Stone, ma’am, please—”
“Doing great, Kaitlyn!” I gave her a thumbs-up.
