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“Monroe.” I supply, crossing my arms over my chest. Something about the way he looks at me feels wrong, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly it is. He’s not looking like he wants to undress me, but that’s of little comfort, given the fact he appears to have seen me before. In a video, maybe, that Wes took in an attempt to dehumanize me?
I’m clenching my jaw and covering my uneasiness with a smile, torn between running off to find Remy or flat-out saying that he could have seen a video I was in and then waiting to see if recognition lights in his eyes. But I do neither of those things, because a woman steps up behind him and taps him on the arm. “Senator,”
The senator’s eyes linger on me for a bit longer than necessary, like he’s telling me not to go anywhere, before he turns to face the woman. “Mrs. Canterbury.” The smile he offers her is charming, and the embrace he pulls her into looks only a touch insincere. “Looking stunning as ever.”
I say nothing— especially not that Mrs. Canterbury looks like she’s spent too much time under the scalpel. It’s just as well because she doesn’t seem to notice my presence. I’m considering slipping away from the situation, but Mr. Massarini’s hand reaches out and lands on the back of my arm. It’s casual enough that the newcomer is completely oblivious to it, and I don’t know why I do it, but I stay. “Oh, you’re too sweet. Where’s that lovely wife of yours?” Mrs. Canterbury cranes her neck all around, as if she’ll be able to spot the person she’s looking for in this sea of black.
“Home, unfortunately. The doctor said it was a bit late in the pregnancy for such a long flight.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Canterbury tuts. “Jonathan would understand that. Never did I meet a more family-oriented man than him. Have you seen those ungrateful kids of his?”
With one line, she manages to seal my less-than-stellar first impression of her. I’m just opening my mouth to put her in her place on both account of Jonathan being a horrific monster and his kids being saints to put up with him, but I’m spared when a man comes and tugs Mrs. Canterbury away with a mumbled ‘hello’ to the senator.
“Give Addison my love!” The woman calls over her shoulder as she’s led away by the hand like a child who’s said too much.
Mr. Massarini plays the diplomat and assures her he will send her regards along, waving her off. When he turns back to me, he looks almost apologetic. “Don’t worry about her opinion. No one ever does.”
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I don’t have to worry about it because I find myself speaking before I even have a chance to consider keeping the question to myself. “Senator?”
I remember Remy’s confession, his grim admittance that every branch of government is wrapped up in the trade of human lives. There is no organization that is safe, untouched by the decay of humanity.
“Guilty as charged.” He grins. “But you can call me Victor.”
Something about that feels wrong, but I don’t say as much.
“Oregon?” I guess, based purely upon his connection to Jonathan Boudreaux. Of course, Jonathan traveled everywhere so it’s not the soundest of conclusions. They could have met anywhere. I wonder if I should feel embarrassed that I don’t know my own state senators, but the flicker of it fades when he laughs.
“Washington.” His grin is the perfectly polished one of a career politician— perfect, too-large teeth on full display. Fucker has probably never had a worry in his life, raised rich and stayed rich, never knowing a problem daddy's money couldn't solve. If I looked up white male privilege in a dictionary, I bet this man’s face would be looking back at me. “State, not D.C.”
“The Evergreen State.” I force a laugh, but it has the opposite effect. His eyes narrow on me a little, and I wonder if I got that wrong. I didn’t live there long, and I was a child at the time, but I certainly know it’s densely packed with evergreen trees. Much of the pacific northwest is the same.
“I’m sorry?”
That’s about all I can take of this conversation. “Um…” Looking over his shoulder, I spot Elaine.
Finally.
Her eyes lock on mine, and she laughs a little when I gesture for her to come to my aid. She may have been poisoning me, but a little bite of one of the cookies on the tray she’s holding sounds favorable to standing here making idle conversation with this guy. “It’s the Evergreen state, isn’t it?”
When he only blinks, I begin to think I’ve slipped into another language. Raking my mind for any other point I can muster about Washington proves fruitless, so we marinate in uncomfortable silence for a moment. I’m so thankful for Elaine’s arrival that I grab her hand and pull her the rest of the distance, hoping her arrival will cast the attention off of me. “Elaine, have you met Senator Massarini?”
The change in her is immediate—her face pales a few shades, her shoulders tense, and I think I can see the plate in her grip shaking ever so slightly.
The senator, on the other hand, cocks a grin. “Elaine?”
“Senator,” she forces a smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“You don’t remember me?” He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m Victor. Victor Massarini.”
“You two know each other?”
It shouldn’t surprise me. They did tell me that Elaine is practically family. It makes sense that she would know most of Jonathan’s acquaintances.
“No,” Elaine says firmly, at the same time that the Senator says “yes”.
“I was a bit younger back then, but you don’t look like you’ve aged a day.” He shakes his head again, still grinning. “You weren’t with us for long, but you were my favorite of the house staff.”
Slow realization dawns over her and then it’s Elaine’s turn to shake her head in disbelief. “Victor?”
