Page 131 of Catfish

“Hey Rea, you ready to go?” Wade’s head immediately jerks up like a territorial animal being warned about the dangers of something around him. That would, to him, be the younger brother of his alleged rival that he just told me about a few weeks ago.

“Give me two more minutes,” I tell him without turning around.

I want to beat his whole ass right now because I said to stay there.

I'm not in the mood to fight with Wade, nor do I want to make this a regular thing between us. We don't have to like each other, but I at least want us to be tolerant of the other.

Hence why I told Jed to hang back, not hang out.

Wade slowly begins to rise from his black leather chair, still chewing on whatever it is he ordered—I don’t fucking remember, it had a weird-ass name. But I’m on high alert because Wade looks like he wants to murder me.

“Busy tonight, Miss Shelton?” His words hold judgment and conviction, sprinkled with his previous warning.

Don’t betray me.

I’m not. I’ve known that fool in the other room since I was a teen.

Wade moves, his palms lay flat on top of his desk as he leans forward, blue eyes fastened on me and daring me to deny that I’m with the person he thinks I'm with.

“Found some soy sauce,” Emmy beams cheerily around the door, saving me from having to answer that loaded question.

Thank fuck.

"Give us two minutes, will you, Em?" Wade recites, keeping his gaze where it's been for the last minute. I actually swallow, goosebumps line up and down my arms, and I think it's time for me to leave now.

“That’s alright,” I counter, already backing out of the room. “We’ll continue another time.”

His brows snap together as I give him a curt nod and make my way quickly around Emmy and out of his office.

Good ‘ole Jed faithfully waits for me where I told him to the first time as I keep moving towards the elevator. It dings open the moment I hit the button.

“Everything alright?” Jed hedges as he steps in behind me.

I smack the back of his head. "Now, it is."

? If You Could Read My Mind — Gordon Lightfoot ?

“What is the first thing you want to accomplish if you get elected into office?” Lexi asks me, crossing her legs on the couch adjacent from mine.

Her owl eyes are pinned on me, pen in hand hovering over her notebook. A small recorder sits on the oval coffee table between us, and I can't stop peering over her shoulder at Reagan, on the fucking phone again, pacing my floor like she's waiting for someone to give birth.

“There would be several,” I answer. “First, would be cleaning up the cities that have been overlooked and overrun. Equal pay, better health insurance, women’s rights, and—”

“Ambitious,” Lex interrupts, pinning her red-stained lips together. “But don’t you think that’s a lot when you’ll be building your cabinet and—”

“You’ve met me before,” I allude before my phone buzzes in my pocket. “When have I ever done just one thing?”

Lexi shrugs her shoulders and pushes her dirty blonde hair off her forehead. “According to reports and newspaper articles, never.”

Reagan's yellow dress catches my attention again, and I clutch my hands into fists at my side.

I’m still livid about the other night.

How she brought Jed on her errand for me like it was just a normal-ass thing to do. After I told her not to betray me, which I thought I made myself perfectly clear about. No hanging out with my Republican rival's brother because it was bad for business.

My business.

My career.

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