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No.
Definitely not.
Go.
Leave.
Get out of here.
“See you next week then,” Aidan said, finally finding a server to take his empty glass.
“What’s next week?” she asked, frowning.
“Little day called Christmas. You know, your favorite day of the year,” Logan chimed in, frowning at her.
Oh. Yeah.
Fuck, Santa. Amelia was far more interested in Jack and the future orgasm she was about to have.
“Right. Ho, ho, ho,” she said. “See you then.”
Emma hugged her farewell, and they began to walk off when she heard Logan say to Aidan. “Did you see Senator Rutherford was here?”
Amelia was glad she had her back to Jack as her mouth fell open.
Senator? Senator Jack Rutherford.
Goddamn it.
She really should pay more attention to politics.
––––––––
“LOGAN WOULD LIKE THEBoatshed painting,” Amelia said, leaning into Chang’s ear. “He’ll pop by to settle the bill tomorrow.”
“Oh! I knew he’d buy something.” Chang pressed his palms together, delighted. “And did I see you speaking with our senator?”
She inwardly groaned.
“Well, someone has to do the selling around here, Chang,” she teased and took a sip of her Cristal. She’d had quite enough already and should change to water, but then again, it was giving her a warm buzz and some extra confidence.
“Okay, tell me. Tell me,” Stella said, joining them. “Hit me with it.”
Chang frowned at her. “No. I will tell you tomorrow. We still have hours left.”
“Ugh. I’m dying here,” she cried.
Amelia smiled. “Babe, just count the little green dots on the wall next to them.”
“Don’t tell her that!” Chang cried softly, ducking his head.
Stella sprinted off.
Amelia laughed while Chang glared back at her.
“Don’t be mean. These things are stressful enough,” Amelia softly chastised.
“Talk to me when you’ve dealt with dozens of dramatically insecure artists every year for twenty-five years.” Chang sighed. “Even if she’s sold out, which she hasn’t. Yet. It won’t be enough.”
