Page 35 of See You Next Tuesday

“They said they’d have it by noon.”

“Not good enough. I need it at ten so I can write a draft while sober,” Gabe groused.

“Gabriellllllll.” Gabe’s press secretary, Preethi, sauntered over, calling his name in a singsong voice. “You are about to be so happy with me.”

“Why, because you made me look cool in Politico?” Gabe grinned.

“Pretty sure ‘looking cool’ and ‘being in Politico’ are mutually exclusive concepts, bucko,” Preethi teased. “But no. This is way better than that.”

“Oh yeah?” Gabe beamed at her. “Let’s hear it.”

“So I accidentally sent the Politico thing to Brent Hogan, by which I mean I sent it to him very much on purpose, but then I was like ‘Oh Brent, so sorry, your name autopopulated’ blah blah blah.”

“The Brent Hogan?” Shawn looked confused. “What does he care if Gabe’s in Politico?”

“He deeply doesn’t.” Preethi smiled slyly. “However, as I suspected, he’s a big fan of Gabe’s girlfriend.”

“Really?” Gabe felt a flush creeping up his neck.

“So we got to talking about how maybe Tallulah could do his show next time she’s in the country—”

“Wait, wait.” Gabe shook his head. “I don’t know if she’ll do that.”

“It doesn’t matter! Because Brent already agreed to interview Jo.”

“What?” Gabe was flabbergasted. “He never talks to politicians! Preethi, this is unreal!”

Gabe leapt up and hugged Preethi, who looked like she was having possibly the greatest day of her entire life.

“I haven’t even told you the best part!” she squeaked.

Gabe was about to ask what could possibly be better than booking their boss on the number one podcast in the country when a flurry of motion caught his eye––Anya, rushing into the office, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. He glanced at his watch: 8:57, that was weird. Anya was usually one of the first people here, and always neat as a pin. But today her hair was mussed and her skin was flushed and glowing. Maybe she’d just worked out? Most of the time, Gabe couldn’t believe he’d ever had feelings for someone so uptight and self-important, but every so often he was still knocked over by how beautiful she was.

“Gabe?” Preethi prompted.

“Sorry, the best part—can it wait until after senior staff?” Gabe asked.

“Trust me,” Preethi said. “You want to know about this before your meeting.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Simone grabbed Anya the second she walked into the office. “I need the numbers from yesterday’s fundraising email, Flannery’s office has been hounding me all morning about our next ad buy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Anya said. “We haven’t sent the email—we never got comms approval.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Simone’s eyes went wide. “Did you bump Gabe this morning?”

“No.” Anya looked sheepish. “I got distracted by the Politico thing, and Zeke’s leaving for another trip tonight, so we kind of, I mean, I got caught up.”

“So you didn’t bump Gabe because you were bumping Zeke?”

“Oh dear god, don’t quip at me.” Anya tugged Simone’s arm and laughed.

“I’m glad you’re in a better mood, at least.” Simone gave Anya a pointed look, and Anya’s stomach clenched.

“I’m sorry. I know I complain too much about him.”

“Really?” Simone said dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Anya glanced automatically toward the comms cubicles, where Gabe was hugging Preethi and grinning. He was wearing jeans and a button-down as usual, but ever since his stint working in Montana, he’d gotten very into cowboy boots. Anya thought he looked absurd, like he was cosplaying some kind of rugged mountain man when he was actually a spoiled rich kid from LA. And she hated the way he was wearing his hair these days: almost as long as his jawline, pushed back behind his ears. It made him look like a used car salesman. Let everyone else fawn all over him—Anya wasn’t buying.