Page 9 of The Senator

I woke up to someone puking, but then, it sounded as if it was in stereo, so I hopped up from the fancy, uncomfortable couch and went to one bedroom door and then the other, confirming they were both returning the liquor from the previous night.

Glancing out the sliding doors to the balcony, I noticed the sky was barely beginning to pale, so I went into the full kitchen, checking the clock on the microwave to see it was five in the morning. I grabbed two glasses from the cabinets and filled each with filtered water. There was a gift basket on the counter with packets of hangover remedies, so I retrieved two packages of ibuprofen and went to the room on the left where Mrs. Brady seemed to have finished emptying her stomach.

“Mrs. Brady, I have water and painkillers. May I come in?” I asked quietly. The door opened, and Mrs. Brady offered a sick smile, tightening the complimentary robe around her middle.

“What’s your name, young man?” the woman whispered. She seemed classy to me, nothing like the foster moms I’d had when I was going through the system. This woman gave off a kind and gentle vibe, and I immediately liked her.

“I’m Nash, ma’am. I brought you some water and some pain relievers. It’s awful early, so why don’t you take them and lie back down? I’ll order breakfast in a few hours if you tell me what you’d like.”

Mrs. Brady grabbed the water and the pills, downing them in a few gulps. “I can’t think about food right now. Where’s Spencer?” She returned the glass to me.

“The Senator is in the room across the suite.”

“Where are you sleeping, Nash, is it?”

I smiled at her kind nature. “I’m on the couch, ma’am. I’m fine.”

We both heard a god-awful sound coming from the other room, which made Mrs. Brady laugh. “Oh, Lord, I can’t remember the last time we both got shit-faced. Will you take him the water and pills? He’s gonna need them.”

With that, Mrs. Brady closed the door, and I heard another groan from the opposite side of the suite.

I hurried over and knocked on the door, “Senator Brady, sir, I have water and painkillers. May I come in?” Somewhere along the way, I’d learned some manners that got me by pretty well. If I’d had a mother, I’d have bet she would have been proud.

I heard a grunt and took it to mean it was okay, so I opened the door. The man was standing in his boxers and undershirt, holding a towel up to his mouth. “I, uh, here.” I held out the water and the pills, which he took, popping the meds and chugging the water in a few seconds.

“Mrs. Brady went back to bed. It’s quite early, so I suggest you do the same. I’ll order breakfast in a little while, and then I’ll get you out of here without anyone seeing you,” I suggested.

“How’d we get up here in the first place, uh, what’s your name?” The senator’s voice was a whisper, likely from all the vomiting.

“It’s Nash, sir.”

“Ugh, please, call me Spencer or Spence. How’d we get up here?”

“Mr. Fitzpatrick suggested perhaps you and your wife might be more comfortable in this complimentary suite, and he asked that I escort you and make sure you were both okay. I crashed on the couch in case you needed anything.”

“That’s, uh, that was kind of you. I’ll take it up with Sean but thank you for looking out for us since we both seem to have lost all common sense because of all this bullshit.”

The man walked to the bed and sat, planting his elbows on his knees and burying his head into his hands. Never before had I seen a more downtrodden man in my life. What they must have been going through, I could only imagine.

CHAPTER 5

SPENCER

I woke the second time to the smell of bacon and quickly realized I was ravenous. Vani and I had only eaten a few appetizers at the party the previous night, so it was no wonder we’d gotten completely wasted. The night was mostly a blur, but I remembered speaking to Sean at some point and then being snubbed by several of the attendees when we tried to say hello. If that was the new normal, I’d pack up the truck and move on down the road.

I dressed in my clothes from the previous night, knowing how mortified Vani would be at doing the walk of shame in her party dress, so I skipped the tie, shoving it in the pocket of my suit coat before I opened the door to the bedroom. I should have felt the need to call my office and check in, but I found I didn’t give a shit. LDS—lame-duck syndrome—had taken hold, and I planned to fully embrace it.

As I headed down the hallway, I heard my wife chattering away. “…and really, it’s nobody’s business. We are consenting adults, and hell, I suggested they go away before campaign season officially kicked off because they weren’t going to get to see each other until after the election.”

Who the fuck is she spilling her guts to on a cloudy Tuesday morning?

“Until this morning, I didn’t know it was Blaire Conner. How will the senator take it that the man’s name was leaked?” It was the guy Fitzpatrick had assigned to take care of us—a guy we knew nothing about. Who knew if the guy was a reporter, and my wife was giving an exclusive in the dining room of the suite? When would the bleeding stop?

I walked in to see Vani dressed in a tracksuit with the local baseball team’s logo on the front of the jacket. It looked stylish with her black stilettos, as I could see through the glass-topped dining table.

“Vani, why bore the young man with our personal business?” I raised an eyebrow in her direction. Her beautiful face flushed, which highlighted how well rested she appeared to be, unlike me, who looked as if I’d just been released from the drunk tank.

“Oh, Spence, you’re so pessimistic. Nash is fine. He’s not the enemy. Sit. He ordered lots of food, and it’s all on Fitzpatrick.” Vanessa released a quick giggle.

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