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“You can go to mine. I have guest passes. You’re not in prison here. You can go out if you need to. But I just want you to be careful. Maybe have at least one of my people with you when you do go anywhere. Just to be sure.”
“Believe me,” I said, sucking in a deep breath, “I don’t want a repeat of today. I think the only thing working in my favor was the fact that I clearly work on my cardio more than that guy does.”
“I didn’t know you were going to be out of the office today, or I might have tried to send someone with you to prevent that.”
“I honestly didn’t know either. I totally forgot until the senator came into the office barking at me about it. And it was too short of notice to say anything. I was barely there like fifteen minutes before the guy snuck up on me,” I admitted.
“No one else saw him?” he asked, flipping the chicken that had little grill marks on it from his fancy pan.
“Everyone was at the meeting. And then when I maybe could have called for help, there was some kind of eruption in the gym.”
“Eruption?” Elian asked.
“I assume that the senator said something stupid or offensive. Or both. The outrage was… loud. So I just ran. And then I didn’t want to waste my breath screaming as I was running. Maybe I should have.”
“Hey, you acted the way that felt right in the moment. And you did get yourself safe.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, exhaling hard. “But what if I didn’t have you to call on?”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, brushing aside my concerns. “Because you do have me.”
But for how long, a needy little voice in my head asked.
Because I was suddenly imagining coming home to this apartment everyday instead of my own, standing barefoot in the kitchen with Elian cooking together, talking to each other over a meal, enjoying a cup of coffee afterward, sitting on the couch with Kevin moving between us to get petted.
The only thing I wanted different from reality was how we went to bed in separate rooms, leaving me lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to find the nerve to walk across the hall and climb into bed with him.
As it was, though, I reached for my phone instead, finding the courage to face the barrage of angry texts from my boss and the frantic texts from our team, asking me what the hell we could do to fix this.
Despite myself, I sat up in bed, then brought up the town hall meeting, cringing as the senator went painfully off-topic, and all but blamed blue-collar workers for not working hard enough or not getting an education for why they couldn’t get ahead. Instead of the real issues—you know, the ones on the cards I’d written for him—like stagnant wages, out of control rent prices, and corporate greed leading to inflation that was taking more out of their pockets.
If anyone at that press conference had been on the fence about their vote, Michael’s comments all but ensured that they would vote for his competitor.
Unable to stop myself, I shot off a number of texts and emails, explaining that I’d had a ‘medical emergency’ and had to leave.
It wasn’t exactly a lie. I mean, if I hadn’t been quick enough, the medical emergency would have been that I was dead.
Then I explained how we were going to fix this, asking them to work way past a reasonable hour to set up endless interviews the next day. Where Michael would be cool and collected and would clarify what he actually meant. Things like how he wanted to make it easier for blue-collar workers to get further education, about how it didn’t matter how much they worked because there was no getting ahead when the odds were against him thanks to, again, greed.
It would all be bold-faced lies. And anyone who looked into the senator and knew how many big corporations owned him, would know that. But this was the job. Politics were all about spin and promises pretty much no one was ever going to make good on. Because no one politician had as much power as their constituents thought.
I don’t know why I was bothering trying to fix this.
I guess a part of me didn’t want to let the team down. At least not until I got the dirt I needed on the senator.
I’d brought that up over dinner, getting a sigh out of Elian who seemed to think the almost attack would have scared me off my mission.
But it felt even more imperative now that I get the recording. I mean, otherwise, all of this would be for nothing.
And despite what that vlogger, Nathan, claimed, the senator did still have a chance. Polls were either deadlocked, or leaning slightly in his favor just because of familiarity, the fear of the unknown that the other candidate posed.
If I walked away now, he could get reelected. He could go back to the Senate and pass laws that would make it easier for monsters like my attacker’s boss to keep getting away with their exploitation of women and girls.
I couldn’t have that hanging over my head if there was even a slight chance that I could do something about it.
I just… wouldn’t go with the senator anywhere anymore. There were plenty of senior staffers who could go with him to the interviews and feed him his lines. Maybe literally. With a damn earpiece. If he couldn’t stay on brand and topic.
I could claim I needed to be in the office to do damage control. Where I would make sure I was surrounded by as many people as possible.