Page 4 of Tied

“Dork.”

“Manwhore jerk.” As she hangs up, I feel better and utterly worse at the same time.

Looking around my vacant apartment, and the verdant lack of Carli and her larger than life charisma, it leaves me in a state of melancholy.

When I took the job as the Governor of Indiana I was thrilled, but scared at how I was going to keep my sexual status out of the news. After interviewing assistants that would make Mary Poppins seem lax, this beautiful Asian darling walked through the door. She immediately complimented me on my Gucci socks and we hit it off. So I struck a deal for her employment and voila! I had the best PR person that excessive money could buy.

Or buy off. The latter was more often than I can count.

Now, without her, I’m adrift. Christ! I’m about to go to New York, the gay capital of sexiness, without a leash.

Huh. A leash sounds like—

No! Chris, pull your shit together!

Giving myself a pep-talk, I look at the mirror in my hallway. “I’m a strong, beautiful, brilliant man, and I have morals—slightly lacking. I have standards—also slightly lacking—but I will be the pillar of manliness in public.”

Looking at my strong cheekbones, perfectly trimmed hair, freshly shaved face, and manicured eyebrows, I say, “Yep. You’re gay. No fighting this shit, buddy.”

Shouldering my travel bags, I slouch under the virtual weight of the event. This is going to be some weekend.

---