Page 6 of The Senator

“Do you know why?” The nerves in my gut balled into a knot as I tossed the envelope on my desk.

Ava’s face flushed. “He told me to say it had something to do with Antigua.”

I exhaled, trying to reason out why Sean Fitzpatrick would want to talk to me about the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me. If he wanted to further exploit my fucking humiliation, his goal was obvious.

“Uh, yeah. So, tell Mr. Fitzpatrick that I’ll take a pass, but I wish him…” I instantly had a speech prepared in my brain before she pulled out her cell phone and handed it to me. I didn’t see her touch the damn thing at all.

“Hell—hello?”

“Senator Brady? It’s Sean Fitzpatrick. I have information you need to hear, so don’t give young Ava a problem, and tell her you agree to come to my party. Her employment depends on your attendance.” Was he threatening me with the girl’s job? I was fucking stunned.

“How so? Not going to hire Ava if I don’t show at your damn birthday party? That’s a bit childish, isn’t it? Oh, and that breaks about six of the workplace harassment and discrimination laws.”

“Ava, pull up the guest list for Senator Brady, will you?”

Ava took the phone and pressed the screen a few times, turning it back to me. I glanced down the list of names, recognizing most of them, but one stood out. “Seriously? When did you become acquainted with him?” Fitzpatrick knew exactly who I was referring to.

“Cock of the Walk on I Street. He was cruising, I swear on my homophobic brother’s grave. We talked for a few minutes, and we’ve had lunch a few times. He told me you were going to Antigua with your latest fuck buddy. Wonder who else he told?” Fitzpatrick teased, catching me by surprise.

I took a deep breath and made a decision. “I’ll be there.”

Who knew I was so eager to go to a fortieth birthday party? Not this fucking idiot, but I was going. I had plenty of questions to ask.

“Who has a damn birthday party on a Monday night?” Vani climbed into the sedan I’d secured for our impromptu appearance out on the town.

I wasn’t going without her. I had no idea what Fitzpatrick’s game might be, but I was taking my best weapon in case it was all a ruse to demean me again. Yes, my ego was beaten to hell, but the chance to find out why a man I’d believed was straight for years was cruising a well-known gay bar was too tempting to pass up.

“If that’s a riddle, I give up. The real answer is a narcissistic lobbyist who can demand people be wherever he wants them to be on any night of his choosing. You look fabulous, by the way! Remember, all the men here are gay, so don’t get your heart broken.” It was better to joke about it than continue to seethe.

Vani laughed. “You as well, darling.” We stepped out of the car in front of the Four Seasons Hotel in Georgetown, which was the venue of the soiree.

“Don’t forget, I’m unaffected by handsome men or beautiful women. I’m asexual, remember?” That was something she’d learned about herself during her therapy.

I could heartily agree that accepting one’s true self was liberating, and Vani was certainly coming into her own. I was so proud of her that I was busting buttons.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. “You’re the best, Vani.”

We followed the fancy sign in the lobby up the escalator where a handsome guy directed us to a small man with a clipboard and an attitude. We approached him, and I offered a campaign smile. “Senator and Mrs. Brady.” I said it as if it still meant something.

“Mmhmm.” The asshole had a pompous smirk that made me laugh. I wouldn’t be able to use the title much longer in any official capacity, so I might as well use it while I could.

Vani and I watched him peruse the list, and then he fixed his gaze on us, offering a big grin. “Oh, you’re him? Well, well, aren’t you a tasty treat? Table eight. Have a great time.” The guy even gave me a wink.

“So, is he your type?” Vani smirked as we walked into the ballroom to see a scene that should never have happened at any birthday party. The room was decorated with anything and everything black.

“Don’t be a smartass, you know he’s not, and is this a fortieth party? Jesus, did he agree to this or is it a roast of some sort?” We walked farther into the room and took our place on the peripheral as hors d’oeuvres were passed.

“Good evening, Senator. Mrs. Brady, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re quite lovely,” Sean Fitzpatrick greeted as he worked the room. He was alone, but he seemed happy and relaxed. Maybe I could be that way too, someday?

CHAPTER 4

NASH LINCOLN

I was behind the bar stocking wine and beer into the large chest when the hospitality crew showed up, all very eager to dress the room. I was grateful to be working at the party, even though it was a Monday night. I’d take every catering gig I could get over my other job.

I worked as an escort a few times a week—sometimes it involved sex, but it was always at my discretion—and sometimes, it was just acting as a companion for the socially elite men and women who procured my services in the nation’s capital.

I preferred bartending a lot more than the escort gig, but the two jobs combined put a roof over my head and food in my gut. It paid for my membership to a gym down the street from my place, and I generally didn’t have to be smart or witty because all anyone was interested in was my face and my ass.

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