“I can carry you if you’d like,” he said.
“I just never get to take advantage of valet anymore,” she said. “Especially in this town.”
Hard to make a quick getaway when you have to wait for the valet to pull your car up.
“You’re not the one wearing heels day in and day out.”
The price of beauty is never cheap. Ask Helen of Troy.
“That’s just mythology.”
If you only knew how many silly wars were started over a woman.
Parties at the White House were never small events. Security was tighter than Fort Knox. Background checks had to be done weeks in advance, and getting invited to one was like pulling the golden ticket out of a chocolate bar. It was the highlight of any political operative’s existence in the capital. Most aides never got to see the inside of the West Wing. This was Jill’s third trip here and it still filled her with awe as she walked past security into the ballroom. She stopped at the doorway and soaked in the atmosphere.
“I can’t believe I wanted to skip this,” she said as they mingled with the crowd. The truth about the White House was, being two hundred years old, it looked dated and didn’t have all the luxury of say, the Four Seasons. It was the White House though, and for Jill, this was hallowed ground.
She turned to Marco. “It’s a good thing the British Embassy pushed your clearance through so fast. Otherwise, we’d be missing out.”
“Well, I am a lord,” he shrugged as if he were saying he liked pancakes.
“Excuse me, your majesty,” she said playfully.
“Did the royal family and the forty or so in line ahead of me suddenly keel over?” he grinned. “Your lordship will do.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “The day I call you that is the day-”
“Your lordship,” Wilks approached them with a glass of whiskey in each hand. He handed one to Marco. “So good to see you again. Hello, Jill.”
“Marco will do, Senator,” Marco replied, taking the glass and shaking Wilks’ hand.
“Senator,” she replied. Marco and Wilks began chatting away as if they were two fraternity brothers, leaving Jill feeling invisible.
“How did he leapfrog me on Wilks’ totem pole?”
Strong bromance.
“And I even wore heels and a cute dress.”
With the two men busy, Jill helped herself to a glass of white from a passing waiter and made her rounds, greeting acquaintances and enemies alike. Inevitably as at all such functions, talk turned to politics. Within a span of ten minutes, she had lost half a dozen votes to two of Wilks’ bills and was offered to cosign another. Then she got her second drink.
These events felt more like an extension of work than they did parties. The venues were different, the drinks flowed, and she wore a tight dress, but the discussions were always the same. After thirty minutes, she took a break from deciding the fate of the nation and looked for her date.
Marco was across the room, still chatting with Wilks. However, his entourage had quadrupled in size. There was a football team’s worth of men surrounding them, hanging onto his every word. The group suddenly erupted in laughter, and someone patted him on the back. Jill didn’t know how he did it, but in less than an hour, he had become the second most popular person in the capital. It was a good thing the president wasn’t here, or they’d be two colliding attention-grabbing black holes destroying the galaxy.
He has a way about him.
“I give him that. The few times I dragged Roen to these events, he looked like a cornered mouse in a snake pit.”
Marco is a man cut from a different cloth.
“Hello, Jill.”
She turned around and tensed. “Simon.”
He pointed to one of the side corridors. “Could I speak with you in private for a moment?”
She looked desperately toward Marco, but his back was to her as he held court on the other end of the floor. So much for being her bodyguard.
Play it cool. Simon cannot act here.
She followed him out into the hallway adjoining the main room, and he immediately rounded on her, whispering in a heated tone.
“What the hell are you trying to pull?” he snarled. “Word is out you’re building an alternative plan. We had a deal!”
“You had a deal. I’m exploring options,” she said, refusing to back down. “You think the Prophus are just going to be your lap dog because you threaten us?”
He grabbed her elbow and squeezed. “The Genjix are allowing you to play in the game because it’s easier for all of us. We can do this alone if necessary. You won’t like it.”
She pulled her elbow back. “You’ll still have your meeting with Wilks. You just might have to sweeten the pot.”
Simon looked like he was about to lunge at her when suddenly he stiffened up.
Marco materialized behind them, talking with his mouth full. “Have you tried the shrimp cocktail yet? Wonderful, really. I must commend the chef.” He leaned in close to Simon’s ear and spoke in a whisper only he and Jill could hear. “It’s messy eating though. Good thing it comes with toothpicks. I have one right now sticking into the base of your neck, Genjix. A little jab and it goes into your brain stem. You’ll be paralyzed and eating apple sauce for the rest of your life. So let me ask you, do you really want to continue this conversation right now?”
Simon froze and slowly raised his hands.
“Are we done here?” she said coolly. “I have better things to do. Now back to your masters, dog. I’m sure we’ll speak again.”
Simon turned to Marco and studied him. “I don’t recognize you, betrayer.”
Marco stuck out his hand and they shook.
Simon hissed. “Ah, the famous Ahngr. You’re far from home. What brings you to the colonies?” He suddenly winced and his knee buckled.
“Biall,” Marco said, iron grip on Simon’s hand. “I see your latest host is another weasel, just like all the others you inhabit. I thought you’d have learned your lesson after the beating mine gave yours in Frankfurt. What’s with you and tadpoles?” He gave Simon one final bone-crunching squeeze. “Don’t ever threaten Ms Tan again. I will end you.”
“Just talking shop,” Simon said, quickly retracting his hand back. “It’s what we do here in Washington.”
“Walk along, Genjix. And if I so much as see you look her way tonight, we will have words again, and they might be the last you’ll hear.”
Jill watched Simon beat a hasty retreat. “You know I had him right where I wanted him,” she said.
“Of course,” Marco replied, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. “I just didn’t want him to have you all to himself.” He held out an elbow. “Now that the unpleasantness is over, and I’ve run dry of stories for your stuffy diplomats, may I have this dance?”
“You’re calling them stuffy, kettle?” she laughed, accepting it.
Marco led her to the center of the ballroom, where for the rest of the night, they fox-trotted to a quartet. A few times, Jill had to change partners when several ladies in attendance cut in. She had to admit she felt a twinge of jealousy. He was her date after all. Still, by the end of the night, her feet were sore and she bowed out of the last few songs, leaving him for all the other ladies. She walked out to the balcony for some fresh air and saw Wilks.
“Oh, there you are,” he said. “I barely saw you all night, and when I did, you were preoccupied.”
She blushed. “My apologies, Senator.”
“Nonsense,” he exclaimed. “Marco’s an awfully fine gentleman. You have my blessing.”
“For what?” she exclaimed. “Senator, this is a personal matter.”
“You’re on my team,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “When someone’s on my team, all matters are personal to me. I’m just saying his lordship is a good guy.” He paused. “You deserve it.”
Yes you do.