Page 62 of Powerless

Bennett gives Esther a hug. “Thank you.”

With tension lingering in the air, Bennett and I leave the headquarters with Mark following.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Bennett is nervous, and now that we’ve lost Nevada, it’ll make him being elected even harder.

Once we’re in the car, Bennett stares out the window. His entire body is tight and his leg bounces agitatedly. A paralyzing stench of fear clings in the air. I hate this for him, but there’s literally nothing I can do to make it better. I place my hand on his bouncing leg and give it a reassuring squeeze.

He looks over to me and offers me a stressed smile.

Neither Bennett nor I want this to be over. We’ve worked so hard to get him to this point, and we’re so close to it. The cars travel through the streets, and once we’re at The Pasta Warehouse, they park on the street right outside.

“We need to clear the restaurant,” Mark says.

“No,” Bennett says. “You’re not clearing it. If people are eating, let them be.”

“Sir, there may be a security breach.”

“I doubt people are waiting for me at The Pasta Warehouse.”

“Sir, I must insist that you allow us to do our job.”

“I’ll take the heat for it, Mark,” Bennett says.

I smile to Bennett. I’m proud of him for sticking to his values. “We’ll be fine, Mark.”

Mark’s rigid posture gives nothing away. He lifts his hand and speaks into his comms unit. I don’t quite catch what he says, but I assume all is okay considering the door opens and Grayson, my Secret Service agent, appears. “Sir.” Grayson is like a hawk as he carefully surveys the area around us.

Bennett and I exit the vehicle and begin to make our way into the restaurant. The restaurant is about two-thirds full, and the host does a double take at us when we enter. “Table for two please,” I say as I step in front of Bennett.

“Of course, we have a private dining room ready for you.” Clearly, he knows who Bennett is.

“No, not private. We’ll stay out here if there’s a table available,” I say.

The host looks behind me, then to Bennett, then to me. He’s confused by my request and it must be directly opposite to what the Secret Service has set up. “But—”

“Out here is fine,” I insist.

“But there are people out here.”

It’ll be a distraction for Bennett. He’ll be able to talk to people and put the pressure of the election on hold, even if only for an hour. “It will be fine,” I assure him.

“Of course,” the host says as he moves from behind his podium and shows us to a table in the back.

The room fills with whispers, but once we’re seated and have ordered, the whispers die down. “Excuse me,” someone says.

“Hi,” I greet him with a smile. This is exactly what Bennett needs. Regardless if the person is going to hate or love Bennett, he needs the diversion of a human connection.

“Mr. Adams, I just want to say I’ve been voting since I was legally allowed to.”

“Thank you for voting. Our country needs to hear the people’s voices,” Bennett replies.

“I had my mind made up from the beginning that I wasn’t going to vote for you.”

I take in a small breath and hold it. Bennett’s been stressed, but I know he’ll still handle something like this graciously. “It makes me proud to know that you did in fact vote, regardless that it wasn’t for me.” Bennett grins at the guy standing at our table.

“I did vote for you.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised by his statement. “Why?”

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