Page 43 of Wicked Me
What had Max Cleary done that would make Rick not want Max reelected? And why would he think the Cleary brothers had some kind of evidence Rick could use against Max?
Since I was the poster child for secrets, I understood better than anyone the need to keep them. But since I very nearly slept with one of the Cleary brothers, it would be wise to know what I was getting into for once. Especially if that secret was large enough to undo a man’s bid for presidency.
Rick could threaten me all he wanted, but it didn’t mean I had to give up the goods. I had more leverage than he did anyway since he was completely in the dark about Her. Just the threat of a paternity test would shut him right the fuck up, but I hoped it didn’t come to that. Otherwise I would have to unravel the ball of shame I carried with me and admit all my failures to the one person to whom it mattered most—Her.
“What about the part you didn’t like about your internship?” Riley pressed.
“Right. Yes,” I said and sipped at my ice water. “There’s only one position available, and I feel like I’ve just stepped into the Librarian Battle of Death arena. Most of the interns already have their library science degrees, and I still have a semester of graduate school to go.”
“It’s the first day, though. Who knows what could happen in the next six weeks?”
“You know I don’t have a competitive bone in my body. Remember P.E., eighth grade year?”
The class had made the volleyball game into a contest to see who could missile the ball over the net the fastest. I lost. So did my nose.
Riley sat back in his seat. “This isn’t a game. Youwantthis.”
I wanted a lot of things, one of which involved a certain man’s hands performing magic between my legs again. My glass of ice water clinked as I tossed back half of it. It cooled my body enough to concentrate on the man who sat across from me, the man I should be glad to see after all these years, but didn’t seem as happy to see me.
“I guess we’ll just see what happens,” I said.
“That’s all anyone can do,” Riley agreed. “So tell me about Wichita. Is there anyone special there?”
“As in a boyfriend? No.”
“Previous boyfriends?”
I turned my glass around in a tight circle to watch the moisture bleed into the tablecloth. “Sure.”
That was my standard answer, but the truth was after my horrific year at a brand new school when I was labeled a slut for being pregnant at such a young age, guys avoided me with the same vigor as if they’d heard my vagina had teeth. After a whole year of brutal slut-shaming, I quit school, adding to my parents’ hatred of me, and enrolled myself in online classes where I didn’t have to leave the safety of my bedroom. I pushed myself to graduate in three years, then earned a full-ride scholarship to the University of Kansas where I rejoined society as a history/English literature student.
No boyfriends those four years or the one year of graduate school, unless you counted group dates, which I didn’t. Not since Rick when I was fifteen, and he was married. I didn’t want to count him, either.
I cleared my throat and my head of all those memories. “How about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Nah.” His gaze slid down my neck and snagged on my chest over the rim of his wine glass. “The dating scene in D.C. has been kind of lackluster.”
So, my chest must be gleaming. I shifted in an attempt to block some of my boobs’ radiance.
“What about our waitress? She’s pretty. And she brought me water when I didn’t know if any could be found.” I searched the restaurant for my brand new hero and found her by the bar in the corner. She was holding her pen in a stabby way and clicking the poor thing to death. “Seriously, you have my approval.”
Riley shook his head, an amused gleam in his eyes. Blue, like his brother’s, but not as bright.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said.
I shrugged, not wanting to get into all the ways I had and hadn’t changed.
“So...” I began while toying with the corner of my napkin and pretending nonchalance, “do you remember Rick Chambers?”
“Sure.”
“Do he and your dad still run in the same political circles?”
Riley took a long draw of his wine. “Not really. Rick switched parties a few years ago. Why?”
“More water, ma’am?”
I looked up into the cherubic face of a water boy carrying a pitcher with lemon slices floating at the top.
