Page 13 of Whiskey and Regret

“Should I keep dressing business casual, or can I switch to casual?” I asked Navy with the phone pinned to my ear. Shoulder length spiral curls dripped shower water down my back as I stared at the remaining clothes in my closet.

“Until you get the official dress code, keep it business casual. You’re gonna do good today, Xari. I’m proud of you for trying. Even though I got you through the door. The rest is up to you.”

“Thanks, Navy. Hey, can you do me a favor and not say anything to Mom and Dad about the job? I want to tell them when I actually nail it because I’m awesome and not because I’m your sister.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “You’re going to have to show them you’re serious about this lifestyle change.”

“I know. I know. I got this,” I told her, looking in the mirror at my hair. Did I want to wear it up or down?

“Okay. Call me when you get a chance, I want to know how everything went.”

“Will do. Bye, sissy.” I made kissing noises at the phone then ended the call. Hopefully I did well in the at-home interview process because I needed a check at the end of the week to start paying my car note. Once I was dressed and my hair was swept up in a high puff with my edges laid, I went into the living room.

I sat on the couch, staring at the stack of bills on the coffee table. I had to pay car insurance and my phone bill by the end of the month. How the hell did people budget every month? I checked my account balance and blew out a long breath. I pulled up the car insurance app on my phone and familiarized myself with it before putting in my payment information. I had enough to pay it and I wanted to get it out of the way.

When I finally clicked submit payment, I rolled my eyes and cringed knowing I had to subtract $270 from my account. The screen turned a cheerful green.

Payment successful!

I bet it was, bitch.

I’d never closed out an app so fast in my life.

“And they just keep taking money every month? How am I supposed to shop like this?” Frustrated, I stood up and checked the time. Shit, if I didn’t want to be late, I had to haul ass now and get to Senator Freeman’s house.

Which, by the way, TV cameras didn’t do that man justice.

When I met him yesterday, I was almost at a loss for words.Almost. It takes more than a fine man in an expertly tailored double-vented suit, wearing Ferragamo wingtips to make me lose all my words. That smile of his almost did it.Almost. I’m such a sucker for a well-dressed man with a nice smile. I couldn’t fuck him though.

One. He was about to be my boss.

Two. He looked too boring.

Yes, he was dripping with luxury and style, which already made my pussy wet but I couldn’t handle boring dick. It was a waste and it pissed me off. Senator Freeman looked like boring, mediocre dick that came with a lot ofyes darling,andlet’s go camping this weekend.

I called men like him darling dick.

Fucking. Ew.

I needed devil dick.

When I had a fuck buddy, I liked to be his dirty little slut. Not his darling sweetheart. At least not in the bedroom.

I pulled into Senator Freeman’s neighborhood at 6:50. It took me five minutes to find his house. It was okay though. I had TLC singing me around the neighborhood. I’m sure the neighbors didn’t appreciate someone riding around blastingCreepthat early in the morning but they’d be okay.

I don’t know why I didn’t guess that he’d have the biggest house on the hill. Should have been a no-brainer.

I pulled around the circular driveway and cut off the music. I wanted to sit in the car a little longer and listen toAin’t Too Proud To Begbut I was trying to be a new person. A more responsible person. My guess was a responsible person wouldn’t arrive at an interview on time only to be late for listening to their favorite song. So, I got out and took slow measured steps until I reached the porch.

Once I pressed the doorbell, nerves collected in my hands, marching up and down my fingers like lines of ants. I shook my hands loose and wiggled my fingers then shut my eyes for a moment, positioning myself as if I was playing the harp. I imagined playingAin’t Too Proud To Begand composed the notes in my head, using my mind like a blank piece of staff paper.

“Miss Lucas,” Senator Freeman’s deep, gravelly voice made my eyes pop open.

How much of my invisible harp session did he see?

“Hi!” I chirped. It took a second for me to realize Mr. Darling Dick wasn’t wearing a suit. He had on workout clothes. The gray Nike t-shirt was darkened with sweat that plastered the damp cotton to his chest like molded armor.

Damn Senator…