Page 80 of A Spy is Born
Grand raises his brows, and I take a step backward, my gun lowering. “I hope to see you again after the election, Ms. Daniels,” Grand says as I turn towards the door. “We will have much to discuss then.”
Philip approaches to escort me out. He’s tall and lanky, the opposite of Grand’s short and stout. I can feel Philip struggling not to shy away from me. “I’m sure we will see each other again soon,” I say to Grand, making it sound like a promise.
I turn my gaze to Maloney, his back to the door I need to pass through, his gun still in his hand but no longer aimed at me. I wink at him before turning to Philip and lacing my arm through his.
My stomach is in knots,my throat barely open enough to breathe as I watch the returns two weeks later. I’m alone in my apartment. Julian wanted to get together but I begged off—afraid I’d expose my deep connection to the outcome. Archie raises his head off my thigh and stares at me with those big brown eyes of his—but the dog’s got nothing to say. “The popular vote doesn’t count.” My voice is a whisper. “Millions of votes in California were just wasted.” Archie sits up, his tail thumping once.Reginald Grand has won the electoral college.
Temperance may have been technically right to have faith in our people—Stone is narrowly winning the popular vote nation-wide—but a whole lot of people went for Grand and he’s going to be our next president.
I want to throw something. Punch someone. Puke. I want to give up but at the same time strike out.
This is why I don’t want to care about politics.
But I don’t have that luxury anymore.
My phone rings. It’s Synthia. “This is horrendous,” she says.
“I can’t even.”
“I’m moving to Canada.” I try to laugh but it comes out scratchy—like bare tree limbs clacking together in a winter storm. “I can’t believe she lost. This country is so misogynist.”
“She had skeletons in her closet.”
“So does he! The man was accused of sexual assault by dozens of women. He’s been married three times and is an admitted—nay—a proud philanderer. He makes fun of disabled people and is an unabashed freaking racist!” Synthia lowers her voice. “And it sounds like the Russians were involved with getting him elected. Did you hear about that?”
“A woman’s old bones are not as accepted as a man’s,” I say, repeating Natalie Stone’s words, my gaze locked onto the TV screen.
“That’s for damn sure.”
A knock at my door pulls my attention away.
“I have to go,” I say, my voice sounding wooden.
Synthia sighs. “Me too. I’m going to get drunk.”
I hang up the phone, my vision clouded with tears, but I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and then stand.
Archie follows me to the door. I check the peephole and find Temperance filling it. I open the door, sighing. He steps into the living room, that predator’s gaze of his taking in the space. It looks the same as it ever was. My bedroom, on the other hand, has new hardwood floors.
“How are you?” he asks as I close the door behind him.
“Terrible, you?”
He gives me a tight-lipped smile. “Got anything to drink?”
I point to the open bottle of wine on my coffee table. “I’ll get you a glass.”
When I return from the kitchen, Temperance is leaning back into my couch, Archie resting on his thigh. Filling his glass, I hand it to him. He clinks it against mine.
“How can we keep fighting, risking our lives for a country that would elect him—” I point at the TV as I flop onto the couch next to Temperance. “Russia might have interfered, but a lot of people cast their vote for that monster. A sexual predator. A racist, misogynist…” My voice fades.
Temperance’s face is shadowed. “This country is bigger than any one man.”
“Sure, but I wouldn’t have fought for Hitler’s Germany. Would you?”
His jaw tightens. “He’s not Hitler.”Yet, his voice seems to imply.
I wave my hand. “Look, I’m not political. Never have been. Okay? All I ever wanted was to act. Not exactly a unique dream.” My voice is rising, the apathy that’s been sucking at my bones all evening lifting as anger spreads her wings.
