“Let me give both youboysa bit of advice,” I said—my turn to drip sarcasm. Gary had the decency to blush and look away, but Charles just straightened his shoulders and met my gaze defiantly. “If you’re going to talk about someone, do it in one of the soundproof rooms after you’ve checked for bugs. Otherwise, every word you utter here is going to come back at you tenfold.”
I turned, got to the door, and then looked back. “And Charles, I can guarantee you a spot on the list the women of The Hill keep. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”
His eyes widened. He knew exactly what I was talking about: the confidential list shared amongst the staffers who worked for the decent and the dirtbags of Washington. It told people who to stay away from if you didn’t want to be a victim. Being on that list could make both his personal and professional life hell.
“That’s bullshit,” Charles said, stepping toward me.
I raised my umbrella, the point a few inches from his chest. “Consider it my parting gift. One last lesson, just for you.”
I swiveled around and left. I wouldn’t really put him on the list, because it was sacred, but it would at least make him sweat for a while.
Outside, I stood, looking up through the calming blue of the umbrella as the rain showered down around me. The humidity and heat worsening instead of lessening with the downpour made it harder to breathe. As if the weight of everything else wasn’t already crushing me.
Twelve years. I’d worked my ass off for twelve years on The Hill with Senator Matherton and, before that, Senator Ashley. I’d followed my grandad. I’d gathered intel, made deals, and pushed off the worst of the creepers. I’d protected both senators and kept their image positive. It had been incredibly challenging in a world still all about who you knew rather than what you knew. In a world still dominated by the Good Ol’ Boy network. I couldn’t help but wonder if it all would have been different if I’d been a man.
That night in the elevator certainly would have been different. Even with all my workouts and Dad’s trainings, I hadn’t been able to stop one determined weasel from laying his hands on me.
I shoved those thoughts aside and did what I always did these days. I took a step, and then another, and before long, I was stepping into the modern bar full of steel and glass where a crowd of staffers waited. Every single one of them was vying to be my replacement. They didn’t know I’d already given my recommendations to Guy and Granddad weeks ago.
Maddy, one of the least obnoxious of the group, waved at me, shouting out, “I saved you a seat.”
I threaded my way through the crowd, returning comments, congratulations, and good lucks before I ended up perched on a high-top metal stool next to her at a small table. The only thing in the room that wasn’t a neutral gray were the mosaic tabletops and the bottles of liquor streaming with hidden lights behind the bar.
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Maddy said over the rim of her scotch and soda. I could see her trying to hold back the grimace as she took a sip, her perfectly manicured nails clutching the glass tightly. She put it back down, smoothed out the lines of her suit jacket, touched a hand to her tightly coiled blonde mane, and then turned to scan the crowd.
I wanted to laugh at everything she was doing. I wanted to shout at her, “Thisis why I’m leaving!” Even though it wasn’t that simple.
She hated scotch but drank it because it was the current fad for the up-and-coming on The Hill. If there was a meal involved, they’d switch to wine perfectly coordinated with the entrees. I’d never gone for any of it. I’d drunk what I liked whether it matched the mood, the meal, or the men I was with or not.
Maddy’s desire to fit into the mold the men in D.C. created was one of the things holding her back. It was the reason her name hadn’t been the one I’d given to Grandad. They needed someone willing to stand up against the status quo, not someone riding the wave.
Even with the umbrella, my tweed suit jacket had still gotten wet. I removed it, slinging it over the back of the chair. Thankfully, the teal-and-purple paisley shirt underneath it was dry. The colors were supposed to have been soothing on my last day, serenity and passion mixed together, but they’d failed me.
The waiter came by, and I flagged him down. “I need a pitcher of cosmos, please.”
He nodded and took off. Over his head, I saw two tall, dark-haired bodies approaching: my brother and his gorgeous fiancée. Mac was still in his Navy uniform while Georgie was in a bright-green sundress in deference to the heat sticking around as September wound down. As she got closer, I could see my best friend was wearing her contact lenses that matched the color of the dress. She switched up lenses like most people swapped jewelry.
I felt my wound-up nerves ease just a hair at the sight of them, my body finding extra solace in Mac’s presence these days. My younger brother and I were the closest of our siblings in age, looks, and temperament. With only twelve months between us, a lot of people assumed we were twins, even when we weren’t.
“Gooberpants, how does it feel to be jobless?” Mac asked, greeting me with a hug while I rolled my eyes at the nickname he’d been calling me for as long as I could remember.
Georgie slapped the expansive breadth of his shoulder before giving me a squeeze. “Ignore him.”
“I’ve been ignoring Squirter since he was born; I’m a pro at it,” I responded, tossing back the diarrhea-inspired name he’d earned. “I’ve ordered a pitcher of cosmos.”
Mac’s eyebrows quirked up. “Getting drunk, are we then?”
“Those are…interesting…nicknames,” Maddy said, trying to hide her smirk behind her glass.
I didn’t respond to Maddy in favor of answering Mac. “Seeing as I do not need to be up at five in the morning tomorrow, I didn’t see why not.”
The waiter returned with the pitcher and a handful of shot glasses. I poured four, handing one to Maddy who frowned at it. “You’ll like it better than the scotch,” I told her.
We clanked the glasses together.
“To Dani, starting a new adventure,” Georgie said.
Thank God for new beginnings. It was just too bad the adventure hadn’t found me yet.
