Page 209 of The Liar's Reckoning

“I wasn’t trying to run you off.”

I stand, mildly shaken by the turn the conversation has taken. “It’s late. I appreciate the drinks and dinner.” I gesture widely at the terrace. “If I don’t catch you again before I leave, stop by the next time you’re in Florida.”

They rise to join me. Chris gives me a hug, and Gibson shakes my hand. “I assume this is your notice?”

I laugh. “Right. Yeah. I guess it is. But don’t take me off the schedule yet, I’ve still got a couple weeks.”

“Of course,” he says. “And don’t be surprised if your final paycheck is a little higher than usual. I’ve made some salary adjustments.”

I begin to call bullshit or object, but don’t. He owes me. “Great,” I say instead.

“I’ll walk you out.” Chris puts an arm over my shoulders and leads me inside, just the two of us. In the foyer, he turns to me. “I wish you weren’t leaving.”

I nod, knowing that I’ll be homesick for New York in the not so distant future. “I’ll miss the pizza.”

“I can always have one delivered if you give me a few hours’ notice.”

That makes me laugh.

He hugs me again, holding me longer this time and sighing. “I hate it, but you’re being smart. Not at the moment, obviously, but by getting away from here.”

I nod, my chin digging into his shoulder. “Thanks,” I say.

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“If you say so.”

He pinches my arm before letting me go. “Asshole. I’d say don’t be a stranger, but…”

I laugh, and after a few more stupid exchanges, he sees me onto the elevator. Killian deposits me at my apartment, and the moment I step inside, Graham calls like he was waiting for the dot representing me on his app to settle.

63

GRAHAM

My week is long, and I don’t entirely hate it. The meetings with the Democrats are going well. Miles Mayer, one the California senators on the committee is my age and was only elected last year. He’s easy to talk with and has some good ideas about expanding the human trafficking legislation to help address the housing issues plaguing his state and the nation. Over lunch—just the two of us on Wednesday in my office—he gives me a lot to think about, specifically in terms of pornography of all things.

“Here’s where I’m concerned,” he says. “I’m from LA and porn is a pretty big deal there. I mean, you’re a New Yorker, you get it. This sex work language we’re using—that could have some far reaching implications across a lot of industries. Porn. Social media. And honestly, because the language is so broad, I’m concerned about the trans community.”

“What?” I’m genuinely confused. Last night’s “issue” from Silas was affirmative action, and it sent me into a spiral. I had to pick up the phone and call him after our angry text argument got out of control, and I was on the verge of walking into traffic. He said one thing and then hung up on me:

Do some fucking research, Graham. Jesus.

I was up very late last night researching the history of affirmative action and the legal cases that landed it where it is today—in the dumpster.Did I sleep through law school?I’d asked myself.

But some of the best writing about the importance of affirmative action has come out since the Supreme Court overturned it, so I can’t blame my professors entirely. I ended up texting Silas again at four in the morning.Did my research.The court got that one very wrong. In my opinion.

He responded immediately to tell me it was okay to disagree with him as long as I had a good reason or actual facts to back myself up. That irritated me all over again.

Me

I’ve been reading for six hours. It wasn’t you. It was an article about systemic racism that helped me understand. Then I read the case law. It was a bad decision and blatantly political. It was gross. Good night. I’m going to bed.

Silas

I’ll look forward to your thoughts on gun control tomorrow. Good night.

I’m exhausted. My brain is exhausted. But the thrill of Silas’s continued interest in me is giving me life. I feel like I’m falling for him all over again, which is a problem, but I’m not prepared to solve it. I’m more interested in trying to figure out how I’ve managed to go my whole life without bothering to examine the positions I speak so strongly on. I do what I’m told. No one can argue that, but blindly assuming my family’s position was the only way and falling into line without examining any of it through the lens of my own life experience? I’m intensely frustrated with myself.

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