Page 11 of The Angel and the Agent

“There you go, you’re all set,” she said.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Ethan blurted.

She leaned away from him and sat back. “I can’t, I have a date with Piedmont.”

“How can you date a man named Piedmont? What do you call him for a nickname, Piedy? Monty?”

“Why does he have to have a nickname?” she asked.

“Because when you care about people, you give them a nickname. Look, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and drew up her number.

“Melly,” she read. “That doesn’t make sense. My name is AMElia, not AMELLia,” she said.

“The person who is being nicknamed does not get to determine her nickname and, sometimes when I think of you, I think of you as Melly. So there you go.”

“There’s no good way to nickname Ethan, either,” she informed him.

“Ethan’s not my real name,” he said, and she sat up in surprise.

“What?”

“It’s my handle because I’m from Vermont. You know, Ethan Allen. Guy who gave it to me was some kind of freak history buff. But it stuck hard, and that’s what everyone calls me. Even at my new job.”

“What’s your real name?” she asked.

“Only true insiders know, only the people in my most inner circle, the people I care about a great deal.” He paused. “It’s Becket.”

“That’s only one of my most favorite names in the entire world,” Amelia exclaimed.

“Yeah?” Ethan asked, smiling.

She nodded. “I always thought…” she broke off, embarrassed.

“You always thought what?” he prodded.

“I always thought if I had a son, I would name him Becket,” she admitted a bit shyly.

“What about Ethan, Jr.?” he asked.

She smiled and checked her phone. “I really have to run. Thanks for this, it was nice.”

“It was nice,” he agreed. “And where are my clothes?”

“They’re already back at your apartment. I had to distract you so my accomplices could return them.”

“What accomplices?” he asked.

“Shh,” she said, touching her finger to her lips. Then she kissed her finger and touched it to his forehead. “Later, Ethan Becket.”

“Later, Amelia Melly. Have fun with Piedy.”

“The fun goes with me wherever I am,” she told him.

“I believe it,” he said, his eyes following her long after she walked out of sight.

Chapter 5

Slowly but surely, Amelia was building a clientele. The waiting list for an appointment with her grew steadily longer. She felt as if she were climbing her way up the DC social ladder, one client at a time. At first she had started with a few Congressional aids and then, as word spread, a few Congressman and lobbyists. Next week she had an appointment with a Senator. She wasn’t sure where to go after that. Would the president’s wife one day make an appointment? Doubtful, but a girl could dream.

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