Page 210 of The Liar's Reckoning

I think these eleventh hour realizations have to do with being gay and how much that preoccupied me growing up. It’s like Iused all my energy trying to square that with myself and God that I didn’t have the energy to examine the other things I’ve always been taught were unfair to “people like us”—affirmative action for example.

Point being, the idea of having to put my deep thinking brain on for porn is not appealing, but I’ve resigned myself to not getting a decent night’s sleep until this legislation is signed and sent to the House. As it stands, I’m no longer comfortable with some of the language in it either. This last week with Silas has been like waking up from a thirty-six year nap.

Miles addresses my confusion. “Since you’re not defining sex work, what’s to stop someone from arresting a stripper or a drag queen?”

“I’m not following.”

“Stripper is obvious, so I’ll explain about the drag queen. A lot of people see the words sex and gender as interchangeable. Since a drag queen is working dressed as the opposite sex—or gender or whatever, it could be interpreted by some backwoods yokel judge as sex work.”

“That sounds like a stretch,” I say, but force my mind to remain open.

“That’s my point,” he says. “With legislation like this and the courts we have right now, I think there’s too much room in the bill as it’s written to overreach and include people who are just—queer.”

I gulp. He’s giving me a knowing look, which leads me to believe the AI smokescreen didn’t convincehim. “Then we should fix that,” I say evenly.

“I have thoughts. Can I send them to you this afternoon?”

“That’d be great.”

He leans back in his chair and smooths his tie down his chest. I notice he’s not wearing a wedding ring, which is unusual in the senate. “Enough business,” he says. “Tell me about you. How the hell did you win in New York?”

I laugh. “Charm offensive,” I say. “And it’s no secret who my father is. Plus, the other guy was what? Seventy?”

“Are you as moderate as you sounded, or was that just to win? I only ask because I had to moderate a lot. And I’m not as good looking as you.”

Oh, shit. He just said that? I take a moment to notice him. Miles is Black and very good looking. He’s tall, fit, and has a definite sun-kissed LA vibe with golden brown skin and light brown eyes. “Seriously?” I ask. “I mean—what did you have to moderate in California?”

“Running for an open seat against a pro-choice Republican white dude with a Mexican wife and three half-Mexican kids? Whatdidn’tI have to back off on? Being bi helped, though.”

I remember now. I was going through a lot last year during the midterms, but I vaguely recall learning that an openly queer person was elected to congress. I hadn’t realized it was a man, or a senator, but here he is, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s reading me like a damn book.

“I had to say—no, no, I don’t want to take your guns, but between me and you—I wantallthe guns. I want cops to carry billy clubs like they do in the UK.”

“Do they still do that?” I ask.

He shrugs carelessly. “I don’t know. Maybe. I also had to walk back a lot of old social media posts calling for reparations. I went on kind of a tear about that while I was in college.”

After all the reading I did last night, this piques my interest. “I have so many questions about that,” I say.

“Let me take you to dinner tonight. I’ll answer all of them.”

Whoa.I scratch at my neck. “I um…can’t. But I…” Words form and melt in my head. “Are you asking me out?”

He tilts his head, neither confirming nor denying, but his interested gaze says plenty.

“I have someone. At home,” I say, nerves jumping in my stomach. “He, um…wouldn’t like that.”

Senator Mayer’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. “Did you just come out to me, Senator?”

I stare at him, not knowing what to say. Because yes, I think I did.

“I won’t tell,” he says. “I get it.” He gestures between us with one, long finger. “Inthisfamily, we keep each other’s secrets. Sometimes more than our jobs depend on it.”

I nod, feeling lighter, insecure, and oddly reassured. “Thank you.”

He gives me the kind of smile that wins statewide elections. “I won’t take up any more of your time, but I’m proud to be working with you, Senator. Thanks for the seat at the table.”

“My pleasure,” I say.

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