Page 126 of See You Next Tuesday

“I’ll try not to be offended by your surprise,” Gabe said.

“No, no, don’t be!” Lev smiled wider. “I’m glad you’ve finally gotten Anya out of your system.”

Gabe’s stomach dropped. Why was this asshole bringing up Anya?

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Gabe said stiffly.

“All those bleeding-heart ideals you used to fight for in meetings—I figured that was her influence,” Lev said.

“I didn’t realize you knew her.”

“Sure, from way back. I gave her her first job, at my old consulting firm. Smart kid, very hardworking. But not cut out for politics. She had no sense of self-preservation.”

Gabe clenched his fists under his desk. He could feel his pulse thrumming through his fingers.

“I thought you might be like her. You certainly used to sound like her,” he laughed. “Anyway, glad I was wrong. Thanks for your help with this.”

He thwacked the budget against Gabe’s doorframe and went on his way. So many thoughts were reeling through Gabe’s mind, he wasn’t sure where to start. Lev was the same asshole who made Anya do all his work and wouldn’t put her up for a promotion? Wait, Anya had a crush on Lev?! He couldn’t touch that one—nor could he linger on how ashamed Anya would be if she knew Gabe had just thrown union workers under the bus by bribing their president with a private plane ride. What the fuck was he doing here?

And then another thought bubbled to the surface: Why were they sending so much money to the PAC that they couldn’t afford some decent rally signs?

“Hey, Hannah?” Gabe called.

“What’s up?” She popped up from her desk and stood in his doorway.

“Where does the PAC keep its spending reports? Do we have access to that?”

Hannah frowned. “I’m not sure. I could look into it?”

“Thanks,” he said. “That’d be a huge help.”

“Anya, where the hell is that speech? We need it onstage right now!”

“Sorry,” she said into the phone. “Sorry, I’m coming!”

Anya printed out the speech, then rushed downstairs and sprinted across the alleyway. She wasn’t far from the stage, but everyone was waiting on her—

“Is this it?” Some guy she didn’t recognize wearing all black and a headset held out his hand expectantly; Anya nodded and gave him the speech. “Great. Thanks.”

He took off toward the line of waiting camera operators. The director was talking loudly and making agitated hand gestures, and the actors all looked deeply stressed out. Anya could relate.

“Was working in actual politics this much fun?” Miles was a writer on the show and Anya’s favorite colleague. He was Japanese American and slight with an understated sense of humor, and he always wore big glasses and cool sneakers.

“Almost never,” Anya snarked, and Miles smiled. “Do you know what time we’re supposed to wrap tonight?”

“Hopefully by seven?” Miles adjusted his glasses. “I’m planning to drink copious amounts of alcohol immediately after, if you want to join me.”

“Oh, maybe?” Anya felt uncomfortable; was he asking her out? Not that he wasn’t attractive, and not that she wasn’t single—fuck. “Um, the Mets are in LA tonight, so I have plans to watch the game on the phone with my dad.”

“No way, you’re into baseball?” Miles lit up. “We should totally catch a game sometime, if you can tolerate the presence of a diehard Dodger fan.”

Anya’s breath caught. She hated that she could still remember the exact smell of Gabe’s sweatshirt.

“Sorry, I actually— I left something at my desk,” she stammered. “So I’ll be right back.”

“Cool.” Miles gave her a gentle smile; he obviously didn’t want to make things awkward between them. “See you in a bit.”

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