Page 2 of Capitally Engaged

“Everything okay? Did you miss the start of the pre-tour movie? Someone’s standing right inside the door. They’ll let you in,” a voice said next to me.

I looked up to find a tall, brown-haired man wearing a smile that seemed to be very much of the on-the-clock variety and not genuine. I blinked up at him a few times, trying to clear themoisture from my eyes, but not before his smile quickly twisted into a frown. As my vision cleared, I realized he looked familiar. I think he served on the staff of one of the senators from... somewhere in New England. Right now, the mental energy powering my Senate staffer Rolodex was engaged in clenching abdominal muscles.

“Really. Are you okay?”

Maybe his familiarity mixed with how he donned that fake smile again pushed me past a breaking point.

“No. I’m really not okay. I don’t have a place to live. I could lose my job any day. It’s fucking freezing outside, andI just need to find a bathroom.”

This last part came out louder than I meant it to, causing those closest in the cavernous visitors center to turn toward us.

“Well, uh,” the man said, glancing around at the attention we were gathering. “I know there’s a line for the one over there. But there are a few upstairs, you just take?—”

“Nope. They’re out of order. Which is just my luck. Okay, well, I’ll be seeing you.”

“Wait.” the man put his hand on my shoulder, which caused me to whirl around—out for blood. My normal disposition bordered on storm cloud more than sunshine, but throw the week I’d had into the mix of my stomach issues and I wouldn’t be above seeing heads roll. Starting with this man, no matter how well he might wear that suit.

He put his hands up. “Got it, no touching. I was supposed to be meeting someone for a tour, but they’re late anyway. Just, come with me.”

The man walked toward a doorway that led out of the visitors center. I stayed still, dumbstruck for a moment that this stranger seemed to want to help me. Maybe his head could stay firmly attached after all. Realizing he might be my best chance at arespectable resolution to this bathroom fiasco, I quickly started moving and caught up to him.

As we dodged the crowds, he pulled a visitor pass out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. “You’re Jacqueline Carter, right? You work forPolitics Daily? Put this on.”

I pulled the lanyard over my head, no time to answer his questions before we reached a security guard positioned at the doorway. My guide smiled and flashed his badge at the waiting guard, pausing at her booth.

The security guard waved her hand, indicating we could walk through. “You know, Preston, I think you just like showing off how good your picture turned out on the new badges. I know who you are.” She smiled good-naturedly.

“It’s not my fault I photograph well in artificial lighting,” Preston responded, a more authentic smile tipping his lips. “Besides, Bernice, I’m a rule follower. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good one. Tell Senator Marsden I said hello.” She nodded to me and moved her eyes past us to focus on the next person trying to enter through her doorway.

The professional black book finally kicked in and I realized the man next to me was Preston Brandt, Senator Marsden’s Chief of Staff.

“Wait, we’re headed to Marsden’s office?” I realized Preston intended to take me to their office suite. I hadn’t entered any of the Congress staff buildings from the visitors center before. Preston gestured to follow him down the long hallway.

“So, you are Jacqueline then. I recognized you from our conference on abortion access last week. Are you okay with stairs? The tunnel is probably quicker to make it to the Russell Building than a people mover unless we time it exactly right.”

“Uh, stairs are fine. And it’s Jax. Not Jacqueline.” Preston’s rapid-fire method of questioning helped keep my mind off the pressing issue that instigated our little field trip.

Preston grabbed the door to his right and held it open for me. As I walked through the doorway, I saw what appeared to be a marble stairwell with a black-iron handrail.

“We’re headed down two levels,” Preston said, descending. The brisk pace Preston set on the stairs caused my stomach to jostle and returned my attention to the matter at hand. I took a deep breath, my inner monologue repeating, “on our way, on our way,” with every step we climbed.

We exited the stairwell to a white hallway. Preston glanced up at the lighted sign indicating the next people mover wouldn’t arrive at this stop for another three minutes.

“It’s only about a three-minute walk across—okay to keep moving?”

“Flat ground moving is good. Let’s go.”

We walked past another security guard who greeted my companion in the same congenial way as the first.Apparently, the Chief of Staff is also a teacher’s pet, I thought, as my stomach twisted painfully.

Things were getting close to emergency status again, but as we turned another corner, a doorway at the end of the hall came into view.

Preston held open the door for me and greeted yet another guard, before directing me with his arm to a stairwell right across from the tunnel entrance.

“Just up another quick flight and we’ll be there.”

I nodded and ducked through the doorway, the marble stairs and wooden handrail a blur. All my concentration went to clenching and putting one foot in front of the other. We exited into a hallway with black and white tile on the floor and large wooden doors lining each side.

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