Page 47 of See You Next Tuesday

FROM: Sessego for Senate Finance Team

TO: VIP Donor List

SENT: October 1, 7:53 am

SUBJECT: INVITATION: Jeff Rooney Reception

You are cordially invited

to the home of Jeff Rooney

in Beverly Hills

for a reception and seated dinner

in support of Josefina Sessego for Senate

Cocktail attire suggested

Click here for pricing information.

Text message transcript: Preethi Mishra and Anya Katz

Preethi [2:08pm]: Heyyyyyyy

Preethi [2:08pm]: Can you do me a huge favor??

Preethi [2:08pm]: I was supposed to grab Gabe at his hotel in Santa Monica and drive him to Rooney’s house, but I’m caught up with all this drama about the other side calling us “Hollywood elites” because of this fundraiser

Anya [2:10pm]: Oh my god, can they PLEASE get a less boring line of attack

Preethi [2:10pm]: I know right lol

Preethi [2:11pm]: Anyway I know you and Gabe aren’t exactly besties rn, but you have a rental car, right? Would you mind getting him for me?

Anya [2:11pm]: No problem

Anya [2:11pm]: Why is he at a hotel?? Shouldn’t he be in supporter housing with the rest of us?

Preethi [2:12pm]: Seeing his gf

Preethi [2:12pm]: Thank you Anya!!!

Anya could think of few things that sounded less appealing than chauffeuring Gabe from Santa Monica to Beverly Hills, but she really liked Preethi, so she was happy to do her a favor. It was just unfortunate that said favor involved sitting in traffic with Gabe.

Anya scowled as she pulled into the entry to Gabe’s hotel. It was gorgeous, of course. Not really Anya’s style, super obvious luxury, but undeniably beautiful. Anya glanced at her phone, it was almost 4:15. She wasn’t sure why she needed to be here so early; her call time at Rooney’s house wasn’t until 6:30, and she certainly hoped the drive wouldn’t take two hours. But this was when Preethi said to show up, so here she was. She texted Gabe that she was downstairs and waited to see him walk through the lobby doors.

Since that night at Chandelier Bar (and, more accurately, since the unbelievably condescending string of text messages he’d sent her afterward), Anya and Gabe had settled into a chilly and distant manner of coexistence, which suited Anya fine. They spoke about work when necessary, but nothing else. They avoided each other socially. Even Kira and Simone admitted this was the easiest things had ever been with them, and Anya very much agreed. They could sit through one awkward car ride. He’d probably be on his phone the whole time anyway, and when it was over, they’d be at Jeff Rooney’s house.

Jeff Rooney. Hollywood leading man, progressive activist, and one of Anya’s personal favorite movie stars, who was going to film a video for Jo, from a script that Anya wrote (based on some bland, inoffensive message frame that Gabe had insisted on, but still). Best of all, they were filming at Rooney’s home (!!!), where he was hosting a fundraiser for Jo filled with glitzy LA people. Anya had fussed for days about what to wear before finally settling on a simple black sheath dress, a black cardigan with some beading details, and classic black pumps. She wasn’t going to win any fashion awards, but a party dress didn’t make sense—she was there to work, not pal around with celebrities. (Though she very much hoped she might get to do a bit of both; after all, they were filming the video before the fundraiser began.)

Anya looked at her phone again. It was 4:23, she’d been here nearly ten minutes already. Where the hell was Gabe?

“Hey.” He knocked on the passenger window, startling her. “Can you pop the trunk?”

Anya looked for the lever to pull, but it wasn’t beside her seat, and she didn’t see the button on the dash. She got out of the car to unlock it manually.

Which was when she saw Tallulah Del Rosario standing beside Gabe, wheeling a Louis Vuitton roller bag, wearing a baby pink yoga set and looking like she’d just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret spread about sexy loungewear. Anya had only ever seen Tallulah in her videos—it didn’t seem possible that she could be even more beautiful in person, and yet. She was Filipina Australian and nearly as tall as Gabe, with a figure that was somehow both willowy and curvy. She had wide eyes, full lips, and thick dark hair that fell halfway down her back. Anya instinctively touched her own hair, which was in a bun, as usual.