It’s quiet in the car, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about her own marriage. Over the years, my parents drifted so far apart that by the time Dad died, they were practically living separate lives. My mom completely re-immersed herself into her community, her family, her synagogue when they moved back to New York. My father dug his heels deeper into the notion that it was all nonsense. He worked more, was away from home more. I wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually found someone else that he kept on the side. I suspected, but I’m glad I never knew for sure.
After a few moments of quiet, Mom looks out the window and clutches the purse in her lap. “Well, it sounds like you know what’s best.”
Considering that Aiko is already sleeping with Chaz and I’m potentially getting my chance with Kimba, I think I do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kimba
“Looks like your tip was right,” I tell Felita on the phone. “The future governor of Georgia is here tonight.”
I find Burton Colson, Mateo Ruiz’s probable opposition, on one side of the ballroom at the charity gala, and Congressman Ruiz on the other.
“Whomever that will be,” I say. “They’re both here.”
“Good,” Felita says. There’s a muffled conversation in the background.
“You out?” I ask her.
“No, watching West Wing, season three.”
“That’s the best season.”
“Wrong. Season two is better, but three is great. So what’s your game plan?”
“Work this room,” I say, scanning the luxurious ballroom. “See what I can find and get out of here. I’m supposed to be on vacation, you know.”
“I know that.” She laughs. “I just thought you forgot. Make sure you do something good for yourself while you’re in Atlanta.”
I’ve done enough good for myself the last few years. After what Ezra did for me on that trampoline, I’ve caught myself wishing he could handle all my good in the coming future. He’s still in New York, which is a good thing because when I woke up horny last night in my mama’s house, I might have been banging on Ezra’s door if he was in town.
“If I want to get out of here as fast as possible,” I tell Felita, “I better go. Enjoy season three.”
“K. Bye.”
I search the room until I find Burton Colson again. The billionaire CEO ran for mayor of the town where he grew up, winning easily. Rumors of his probable gubernatorial bid have been circulating for the last two years. He put an end to the speculation last week when he officially announced his candidacy. I could predict everything about this man—where he’d have gone to college, the woman he’d marry, the causes he’d choose to lobby. I even got his mistress right. His wife’s a brunette. I called him for a redheaded sidepiece. Pictures from her early life show mousy brown, but a bottle turned her red, so I win on a technicality.
What can I say? That Allen gut. I got it.
But there are things I couldn’t possibly know about him. That’s the dirty laundry Piers is sorting through now. These days, a mistress isn’t enough to derail a campaign. The public is too jaded to allow something as minor as a mistress to keep otherwise good leaders out of office. And generally, I agree. When the world’s on fire, give me a competent leader who knows what the hell she’s doing over the chick who never cheated on her partner, but couldn’t lead me out of a paper bag. Character does count for something, though, and as Colson’s opposition, it’s my job to expose…possibly exploit…his weaknesses. I doubt there’s anything that could completely disqualify him, but there’s certainly something that could turn votes our way.
Or Mateo’s way, rather, since he still hasn’t hired me.
But he will.
Unless the man sitting with him right now, a few tables over, has anything to say about it. Anthony Rodderick and I grew up in this business together. We graduated around the same time. Started working in politics right out of college. Did the same grunt work to pay our dues. Now we both run political firms and vie for some of the same big fish candidates.
I drift from conversation to conversation, working my way closer to Congressman Ruiz’s table. Anthony never leaves his side. I should not be angling to see Mateo Ruiz. He knows what I can do. My resume speaks for itself, or at least it should. He’s worried that Lennix is gone and I can’t manage on my own? I’ve been doubted at every turn, and I always pull through. I just elected a president. If he’ll give me the chance, I’ll deliver this state to him. Skulking around ballrooms, positioning myself for his consideration, hoping I can “accidentally” run into him—this is not a good look. And if this was a game of chess, this would not be my move.
I politely end the conversation I’m in and head into the women’s restroom. The bathroom is done in richly patterned silk wallpaper. Benches with plump cushions line the walls. Egyptian cotton hand towels, costly soaps and fragrant lotions are stacked neatly on the marble sink counter, but the greatest luxury this room offers me right now is solitude.
I set my clutch onto the counter and face my reflection in the large gilt-framed mirror. Kayla’s stylist did my makeup for the gala. She employed a heavier hand than I usually like, but I must admit she did a great job. Long-lashed dark eyes stare back at me, a palate of peacock colors brushed across my lids. I never wear fuchsia, but the matte color pops purply-pink against my skin, painted over a mouth that looks even wider and fuller than usual. My hair, pressed straight, falls around shoulders left bare by Lotus’ creation. It’s a masterpiece of jewel tones—blues, greens, and purples subtly reflecting the colors decorating my face. The dress is a fairy tale, a strapless tulle bodice, nipped waistline, and flared skirt that bells out in layers of iridescent wings ending just above my knees. My only jewelry are the round emeralds glimmering in my earlobes and the gold ring Daddy gave me that rarely leaves my thumb. I take it off and read the inscription inside.
To thyself be Tru. Love, Daddy.
He gave me this ring when I settled on Arizona State. The whole family accused me of believing the schools that shaped our family for generations weren’t good enough for me. That wasn’t it. I just needed to get away from it all. From them all and make my own way.
Daddy got it. He always did.