My already hyperactive imagination shifts into overdrive. I consider frisking everyone who enters my office to see if they’re wired. I sweep my office for listening devices, though that mostly involves me pickingthings up and shaking them. I have a sneaking suspicion that isn’t how wiretapping works.
When I share my theory with Stephen, he tells me I’ve gone off the deep end. In fact, he dismisses it so swiftly that I become suspicious of him too. Maybe Ben has something on him and is forcing Stephen to feed him intelligence from the inside. I interrogate him over lunch, but he doesn’t crack.
I might be watching too muchHomeland.
Maybe it’s all in my head, but when it comes to Ben I don’t believe in coincidences. To cover my bases, I add a postscript when I send out my next poison-tipped spear.
PS.Surveillance without a warrant is a federal offense. If you’ve bugged my office, I will find out.
He replies with a postscript of his own:
PS. Paranoid much? Have you seen a doctor about your delusions?
“Kate, wait up.”
I turn when I hear the voice belongs to my colleague John Conrad, chief of staff for Senator Maxwell (D-Maryland). We were just in a meeting together but I booked it out the door as soon as it ended, intending to make it to the Senate gym before it gets too crowded. If I dillydally, all the good machines will be taken.
“Where you headed?” he asks, jogging to catch up with me.
“Just the gym. What’s up?” I ask, not breaking my stride.
“I’ll walk you. I had an idea for your bill,” he says, and my stomach jumps.
John’s boss is one of Carol’s closest allies in the Senate; they regularly cosponsor each other’s legislation and almost always vote together. As a result, John and I are frequent collaborators and close friends. He’s funny and attractive in a perfectly polished, presidential candidate type of way; kind of Patrick Dempsey inSweet Home Alabamasmooth. He can be a bit intense—I sometimes wonder if he thinks about anything besides politics—but he’s incredibly smart, which for me trumps just about everything else.
“Do you know Paul Bradley over in Senator Moreno’s office? He mentioned they’re looking for bipartisan support on their transportation bill and I thought this could work in your favor. Infrastructure seems like something Warner could get on board with, especially in exchange for Moreno’s vote on the child care bill.”
“I think she’d be open to it,” I say excitedly.Finally, some good news.“I’ll reach out to Paul ASAP. This is so helpful, John, thank you.”
He smiles. “You can thank me by letting me take you out for a celebratory dinner when the bill passes.”
We chat about the details until we reach the gym and I say goodbye and head into the women’s locker room. As I’m changing out of my work clothes, I hear someone enter. Glancing up, I recognize the ponytailed brunette, sweaty and svelte in her designer activewear.Corinne.
When we lock eyes I can tell shereallywants to ignore me, but we both call upon the social etiquette drilled into us since birth and fake-smile at each other.Guess all that sorority rush training was good for something.
I can’t help myself—I’m on a high from John’s news and feeling rebellious. “Corinne, right?”
She eyes me guardedly as she twirls the combination on her locker. “Right. And you’re Kate.”
She’s already surprised me; I wouldn’t have expected her to remember my name. Or admit to it, anyway.
“So you must work with Ben, then? I don’t think you said.” If she knows about our feud, it would certainly explain her frostiness.
She gives me a thin-lipped smile. “Among other things,” she says, prying open the door and burying her head inside.
So theyaredating. Or hooking up, maybe—hard to tell from that vague statement and her suggestive little smirk, which will undoubtedly require a brain bleaching later.
“Is it crowded out there?” I ask, bypassing those disturbing mental images, determined to kill this ice queen with kindness.
“Not too bad.” She slams the locker shut and turns to face me. “So how did that dating app work out for you?” she asks, smiling innocently.
Innocent as a fox.“I didn’t actually join it. My friends were just messing around.”
“Oh.” She flicks her ponytail back and shoulders her bag. “Well, Ben might think apps like that are silly, but I think they make perfect sense. Why not cut through the crap and find someone who thinks like you do? Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same if I was stuck in the dating pool.” She pauses. “No offense.”
“Oh, none taken,” I reply dryly.
There’s a beat of silence as we size each other up. My cheeks ache from holding this phony smile. I’ll have to scrape it off later with a putty knife.
