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“What do you normally do with your days?”
“I workout.”
“Because you enjoy it?”
“Not especially.”
“Then don’t do that.”
“Then, many days, someone has a schedule for me.”
“That’s a no too.”
“Then I just… I don’t know.”
“What do you normally do in your pink guest room?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“If I have to study or not.”
“Study?” I asked, brows drawing together, not understanding.
“Yeah. Sometimes I do it in there just so it is less awful.”
“What do you study for? Do you take online classes or something?”
“No. Yes. Well, sometimes. In a way. See, Teddy wasn’t supposed to marry me. He was supposed to run his choice in front of his father. Or, more likely, choose from a list of his carefully chosen, acceptable former debutantes or heirs to pharma fortunes or such. Not some trailer trash who couldn’t even tell you where The Virgin Islands were, let alone what kind government they have.”
“You’re not trash,” I insisted, shaking my head, not liking even hearing her say that. No one would look at her and think that word. No one.
“So when Teddy married me without permission, he made it his personal mission to polish me up so I didn’t embarrass him.”
“But it’s been…”
“Fifteen years,” she supplied for me.
“What else could there be to learn?” I asked.
“Well, the first year or two was basic things. Better vocabulary. Chugging through a reading list. More geography than I got in school. And then after that, since then, it has been never-ending political education. From the basics of each type of government to the names and positions of everyone in U.S. politics as well as international.”
“That sounds very… not fun.”
“I guess it is nice to know things. And not to make silly grammatical errors like saying seen when I should say saw.”
“So, when you don’t need to study, what do you do in there?”
“I, ah, work with clay.”
“Like in Ghost?” I asked, maybe liking the picture of her in a tee and panties in front of a wheel a bit too much.
“I wish. I’ve always wanted to take those classes. But no. That would never be acceptable. I just make, ah, little clay jewelry pieces,” she admitted, looking down. Like she was embarrassed, like it was a silly, trivial little thing.
“It sounds like I may be here a while. Maybe you can show me sometime,” I suggested, giving her a reassuring little smile, hoping it would be enough.
“Sure. I mean, it’s just… tinkering. But I can show you.”
“Well, do you feel like tinkering?” I asked, watching as her gaze moved around her entryway before settling on the spot where there was no longer a speck of blood.
“I want to curl up in bed eating candy bars and watching mindless television,” she admitted.
“Then do that. But let me introduce you to Lincoln first. I have to run home to scrounge up some of my things. He will be here while I’m not.”
“Okay,” she agreed, looking down at herself.
“Don’t change,” I told her. “You earned a day in your sweats. No one – save for the senator – would judge you for that.”
“Okay. I will just go fix my hair and rinse my cuts with some more witch hazel.”
With that, she jumped up to do just that while I texted Lincoln, then waited for him to show.
“Sorry,” he said half an hour later, shaking his head. “It is a shitshow with all the news at the end of the block. The rent-a-cop practically demanded a blood sample to let me through.”
“Things have changed,” I told him, seeing a few flurries start to fall, not knowing if we were meant to get dumped on again, or if it was just a passing dusting. “The senator showed up. Long story short, he thinks I am a live-in now.”
Lincoln looked up at the house, letting out a whistle. “Movin’ on up, are you?” he asked with a smirk.
“Yeah yeah yeah. Anyway, the staff I think is in the senator’s pockets. Watch what you say around them. The client is careful too. She’s coming down to meet you, but plans to spend the day in bed.”
“So I get to roam around a mansion doing nothing for a while. Not a bad workday for me. Are you heading home to sleep?”
“Just the office to fill out the file, then home to grab some things. Suits.”
“Suits?”
“Yeah, the senator wants us to remember Where we are, and to dress the part.”
To that, he gave me an eye roll that I appreciated, glad for someone normal after so many image-conscious people.
“Alright. Suits it is. I’ll remember next time. You go get your work done. The sooner you get back here, the sooner you can crash.”
I left out the part about how I wanted to get back to look at clay jewelry made from the client as I led him inside, finding Jenny waiting a bit anxiously on the stairs.
