“Yeah. I know he was trying to pull the woman from you—which isn’t cool, but a lot of people think it’s assertive of him to go after what he wants,” she explains. “You know…alpha.”
Alpha? Ha! More like pesky. Overly persistent, if you want to be kind.
David raises an eyebrow. “A lot of people, huh?”
Both women smile nervously.
“Nobody thought it was rude of him to ignore what the lady wanted?”
“Oh yeah, of course,” Mandy says quickly. “But we were just talking about the general consensus, you know.”
“I’m sure she wanted to go with you,” Mandy’s friend adds.
I want to bang my head against the wall. But I settle for shifting my weight. How do they know so much about what happened on Saturday? I doubt David gossiped and told everyone. He rarely updates social media these days. And it isn’t like Warren would, unless he thought it could get him votes. But he just got elected.
And if the story came from either of them, why didn’t they say who the blonde was?
Maybe they were too embarrassed, a voice that sounds very much like my dad intones, full of judgment. You’re too much like your mom.
The relief from earlier this morning vanishes. And my heart feels heavy and stifled, like a huge boulder is lying on top of it.
“Oops, gotta go,” Mandy says. “I have a meeting.”
“Yeah. I have a new-hire orientation to prepare,” her friend says.
They slip out of the break room. David turns to me, his face tight. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I say woodenly, although I’m not sure if I’m saying that to him or to myself. I’m no stranger to being the topic of gossip. It’s just that I didn’t think it’d start again out here. I’ve tried so hard to stay under the radar.
The only silver lining is that they don’t seem to know who the blonde is. Yet. I pray it stays that way. Forever.
David bends down until he can peer at my face better. “It’s not. I wish I’d been more aware, but I didn’t realize anyone took our picture until yesterday morning.”
I jerk my head up to look at him, panic rolling through me like a snowball over a field of snow, growing bigger and nastier and colder. “Somebody took our picture?”
“Some paparazzi jerk. My friends and family asked me about it.” Now it’s his turn to frown. “Didn’t you see it?”
“No. But it isn’t important. I just didn’t know there was a picture.” I bite my lower lip. “Do I look…really obvious? Think people can figure out who I am?”
He shakes his head. “No. They only got your back.” He pulls out his phone, taps a few things and shows me the screen.
The picture had to have been chosen for the dramatic composition. It looks like a tug of war, with me as the rope, between David and Warren. But David’s right about it not showing my face. Unless you were at the function and saw me with David, nobody would make the connection. Unfortunately, a lot of people saw me with him. Hopefully they’ll forgot all about me because they were really there to meet David.
“At least there’s that small blessing,” I say, relieved. People can’t identify me with that. Not even my father. “Don’t worry about it, David. It’ll blow over and nobody’s going to talk about it. They’re only interested because Warren is a newly elected congressman. And popular.” Then I realize maybe I’m making it sound like David isn’t important. So I add, “And you’re one of the most eligible bachelors in the country.”
He gives me an inquisitive look for a moment, then nods. “Sure. It’ll blow over.”
We grab fresh mugs of coffee and David returns to his office. I go to my desk to work. Or at least try. My mind is too busy, whirring fast despite the initial relief.
What if there are more pictures? What if people put it together? There might be a shot of me from the front. And how many women had a dress as red as mine?
Unable to stop myself, I Google the images from the auction and pore over them.
But nope. That’s the only one with me in it. I sag, all the tension leaving my shoulders and neck. David’s right. Nobody’s going to know. I’m safe.
Then, just to be sure, I check my phone for any missed calls or texts from Dad. He’s bound to contact me if he learned that I saw Warren.
I scroll fast, and oddly enough, he hasn’t tried to get in touch with me. He has to have seen the photo too, since he keeps track of news that involves politicians and donors that matter to his plans. Maybe he didn’t realize the blonde was me, which would be fantastic. He never will, if I’m lucky. On the other hand…if he does call, I should tell him that I can’t possibly entertain the idea of being with a man who thinks nothing of making a public spectacle with another woman. Voters don’t like men who do things of that nature, do they?