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It’s annoying that I’m even having this conversation with myself as I slice the soft cheese.

Wiping my hands off, I take another sip of wine and stare at my phone.I should call Reginald Grand back.Waiting more than a day when a presidential candidate calls you about “national security” seems just wrong. Not that I've ever dealt with something like this before, but common sense says return that call quickly.

A sigh breaks free as I pick up my phone. Grand picks up on the second ring. "Angela." His tone is warm, like we are old friends. The guy might be running for his first political office but he sure sounds like a politician.Or a producer.

"Mr. Grand,” I say, putting a note of awe into my voice. It's seems a safe bet that a man trying out for leader of the free world has an ego that enjoys stroking.

"I'm so glad you called."

I stir my marinara. "Of course, how can I help?”

"I'm going to be in California for a few days—fundraising and the like. I want to meet you."

"That's flattering, sir. But I make it a point to stay out of politics." Check my Instagram, bro—it's all pics of my dog, sunsets, and me working out.

"I totally understand; it's a dirty business." He's injecting humor into his voice, trying to be self-deprecating but just coming off as slimy. "But the things I want to talk about can't be discussed on the phone."

Crap on toast.

"I see." The timer for my eggplants buzzes, and I grab a hot mitt.

"I'll send a car for you. We can meet at my hotel. I promise we won’t let anyone find out."

Pulling open the oven, the soothing aroma of baking eggplant rushes out on a wave of hot air. "Um..."Can I say no? How do I say no?"When? I've got a really busy couple of days."

"I thought your new movie didn't start shooting for a few more weeks."Two months actually.

"Yes, but," I inject a smile into my voice. "I have a life, training, you know how it is."We are both big time, right fella?

"I can work around your schedule." His voice is getting colder. I'm starting to piss him off.

"Okay, when are you going to be here?” I put the eggplants on the stove and walk over to my iPad, opening the calendar app.

He speaks to someone in the room with him.

"We get in tomorrow evening. I've got a rally the following night and a fundraiser lunch. The best time for me is 3 p.m."

"I have training," I say, which is true.

"What about after the rally, midnight?”

"Plans with my boyfriend."

"You're dating someone?" He sounds surprised, as if he had intel that I wasn't dating.I’m not answering that. Clearly this isn’t as much about national security as he claims.

"What about the following morning? Early?"

"Fine." His voice is flat.

"Six a.m."

"Fine," he says again, clearly annoyed.

"Great, do you need my address?”

"We have it. The car will pick you up at 5:45."

I hang up. Maybe I should move.