by T. F. Jacobs
I suppress a tear as I think of that day in the hospital. The fear in her eyes before the surgery.
“How long ago was this?”
“Two weeks,” I admit.
“Two weeks! And you are already back to work?” There’s obvious shock in his voice.
I nod.
“Gotta pay the bills. Unfortunately most of the procedures weren’t covered under our plan.”
He shakes his head.
The elevator stops at the lobby, and we step out.
A barista at the coffee stand on our left is wiping down the counter. Probably closing up.
I gaze over to the other side of the lobby at the front desk, and then I see them. Connelly’s secretary, listening intently, and Dominique. Dominique’s wearing a low-cut neon-yellow dress, showing off her muscular arms, and she’s using her hands to talk in animated gestures. The secretary seems enthralled.
Dominique glances in my direction and gives me a quick wink, showing off her hot pink mascara. I give her the slightest of head bobs in return. I have no idea what she’s saying, but she better keep that woman’s attention.
I look at my watch. It’s 4:44. Seven more minutes.
“Still open?” I ask the barista. He’s got an Afro and is wearing a green apron. He rolls his eyes.
“Sure. What can I get you?”
The congressman leans in. “I’ll take a black coffee.”
Shit. That definitely won’t take more than a minute to make. I hate coffee, but I need more time.
“And you, sir?” Annoyance in his voice.
I glance down at the menu and search through the drinks. Take my time.
I let twenty more seconds pass, then land on the longest one in the middle. “Could I do this mocha chocolate-chunk Frappuccino with white-chocolate whipped cream on top?”
He gives me a telling look. One that implies there better be a good tip involved to make this drink at the end of his shift. I pull out my wallet, and then he puts on a fake smile and nods.
“That will be six twenty-two,” he says, looking down at the tablet in front of him. He turns it around for me to see.
“I insist on paying for my own. Thank you though,” the congressman says. He hands the barista a five spot. “Keep the change.”
I pull a ten from my wallet, then slide it across the counter. “Same,” I say.
For almost ten dollars in tips, this guy better cut out the attitude.
He gets right to work on the drinks.
“Where were we?” I resume our conversation while looking back to the congressman. He’s typing on his phone.
He looks up. Slides his phone back into his pocket.
In the background a blender springs to life.
“Oh yes. Your wife. You know, I went through something similar.”
Yes. Here we go. I need to keep him talking. Keep him distracted.
“My own wife passed away about a year ago. Breast cancer. For years it stayed dormant, but one day it decided to get worse. Lasted about two months from that point.”
He looks down. I can tell this isn’t something he shares often. Deal makers and negotiators hate vulnerability. It makes them appear weak.
“I’m sorry,” I respond.
“Black coffee and a Frappuccino,” the barista calls.
I look down at my watch. Five more minutes. Shit.
I turn back to the front desk to check on Dominique and my real panic sets in.
The assistant is walking to the elevator, and Dominique’s trying to stop her. A second later, they disappear into the elevator and out of sight.
No!
The congressman grabs the sleeve of the cup, then blows into the lid.
“Thanks, son,” he says, then turns back toward the elevator.
I need to warn Aly. I can feel my heartbeat as I reach in to pull out my phone to text her.
Assistant on way up.
I take my drink and hurry to catch up to him.
I need more time.
“Congressman, care to continue this outside?”
He gives me a condescending laugh. “No, it’s raining. Let’s finish upstairs.”
He presses the button to call the elevator.
If there is a god up there, I pray the elevator is all the way at the top of the building.
A second later, it chimes and the doors open.
Looks like there isn’t a god.
He steps in, and then I do as well.
The elevator lifts and begins its ascent.
A buzzing in my pocket distracts me. I slip my free hand in for it and pull it out.
A message.
Okay. Need four more minutes.
I look back over to the congressman.
“Congressman, I don’t want to take much more of your time. Healthcare issues mean a lot to me. Because of my wife. And I imagine they do the same to you.”
I need to rope him back in. To finish the deal and distract him.
He takes a long sip of his coffee, then gazes back to me.
“David, I know what you are trying to do. I make deals all day long. It’s my job as whip. I know the tactics. I told you already—I will review the bill on my own time. If it’s right, I’ll put it forward. If I don’t see the value, I’ll leave it be. That’s all I can say for now.”
This guy doesn’t play ball. He’s the deal maker, not the other way around. I can’t help but respect him for it, even though I want so badly for him to say something to incriminate himself. For him to show he’s in bed with lobbyists.
This will be a waiting game.
The doors slide open.
We make our way out and back toward his office. And then we see it, and my body goes numb. This is not good.
In front of Connelly’s office Alex, Dominique, and Connelly’s assistant are talking loudly. Alex is standing in the doorway, and Connelly’s assistant is yelling.
“Who gave you clearance?” she says.
Connelly quickens his pace until we catch up to them.
“What’s going on here?” Connelly demands. Alex’s eyes go wide, darting to Connelly. He’s sweating profusely. I can’t breathe. My brain frantically searching for ways out of this.
“This guy was in your office. Claims he’s checking AC vents for building maintenance. But I never got any notices about it,” his assistant replies, accusatory.
“Rout . . . routine maintenance,” Alex stutters with his nervous, toothy smile.
“Who sent you up here?” Connelly asks, eyes fixed on Alex.
Please for the love of anything holy, please say something to get out of this.
“Kur—” he starts, eyes on Dominique. I notice her mouthing something so subtle that I’m sure no one else sees it. “Kurt,” he finishes resolutely.
Both Connelly and his assistant stare at the man. Waiting for him to unravel. But all he does is smile.
“Well, is our vent good?” Connelly finally asks, lightening the mood.
“Pristine, sir.”
“Great.” He turns to Dominique. “And who are you?”
He has to sense that something is afoot. Two random strangers at his door while he happens to step away for a few minutes.
“Jamaica Johnson, sir. I was just here to see Sandra.” She gives him a flirtatious, narrow-eyed grin, bats her lashes, then slides an arm around Sandra’s waist.
Sandra lets out a giddy laugh, and blushes hard.
What is going on here?
“Call you later, honey?” Dominique asks, eyes glued to Sandra’s breasts.
Sandra lets out another girlish laugh. “Sure.”
Dominique’s hand drops to Sandra’s for a lingering second, then Dominique lets go. She winks and struts off down the hall. Alex takes a second before he snaps out of his stunned daze to head in the opposite direction.
“Have a good night, Congressman,” Alex says as he pretends to move on to the next door down.
Connelly gives him a brusque nod, then reaches for the door, a
nd I remember Aly is still inside.
I look at my watch. Two minutes left. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.
“Well, Congressman. I appreciate you taking a walk with me,” I announce loudly. I want Aly to hear me from behind the closed door.
He turns to look back at me. Gives me an odd look, clearly thrown by the volume of my voice. Sandra continues past him to her desk, still giddy from her interaction with Dominique. I don’t know what she did, but it certainly worked.
Another buzz from my pocket.
I pull the phone out as he turns around and starts toward his door.
Stall him. Another minute.
I look up. He’s almost there.
“Congressman,” I shout.
He turns, taken aback. I hurry to his side.
I need to say something. Anything.
“I want to thank you for sharing your story. I know that must have been hard. And I respect that you want to look the bill over on your own time. If there is anything I can do for you, will you please let me know?”
He knows I’m not bringing anything else to the table. He’s at his boiling point.
He reaches for the handle, then twists it open.
Without thinking, I pretend to trip and jump forward toward the door. He stares at me.
“Sorry.”
The door is propped open a couple feet, and I can see Aly at the computer, her eyes wide in fear.
She darts across the room.
He’s inches forward.
“Excuse me,” he says and then tries to move past me, but I stay at the doorway, obstructing his view inside.
I glance back in and notice Aly on the other side.
Then I see it.
In her left hand is the syringe. It’s concealed. My heart leaps. My breathing stops. My eyes are glued to her hand.
“Congressman,” I interject. I stick out my hand.
He looks down, then takes it. A quick shake.
We continue to stand awkwardly, me still in front of the door.
If my palms were sweating before, it was nothing compared to now.
“Do you mind?” he asks. He leans in.
I can’t let him in. If she injects him, what will happen when he wakes up? He’ll look up who his last meeting was with, and then tell the authorities it was me. Plus, what about Sandra? She’s already back, and that certainly wasn’t part of the plan. I’ll be sent to jail. This whole thing will end before it’s even begun.
“Yes, sorry. But one last thing. American True Care won’t be happy if I don’t at least try to get you to Mariano’s.”
Something beeps from inside his office.
“Sorry, but no. I really need to get going,” he says again.
He’s done.
He pushes the door open wide, and my heart stops. We’ve been caught.
Silence.
Then he steps in past me. I move out of his way and slowly turn to face the office.
“Hi, Congressman,” Aly says cordially.
“Hello.” He’s curt. His eyes scan the room, and mine follow his gaze. I notice the laptop, but it’s off.
I try to find my words, but it takes me a second.
“Aly, we should let the congressman go. We’ve taken plenty of his time already.”
She nods, then smiles to him.
“Congressman, thank you again. Have a lovely evening.”
He puts on a half smile.
Doesn’t say anything in return.
Aly exits first, and then I follow behind her.
We don’t speak a single word the entire way out.
. . .
A Middle Eastern Uber driver in a minivan greets us in broken English.
“Can you wait a moment? We have two more joining us,” Aly says.
He nods impatiently.
When we get in, I finally feel it’s safe to speak.
“So are you going to fill me in on the plan?”
But before she can answer, Alex and Dominique appear from around the corner. Alex is awkwardly running through the rain, arms swinging wide, with Dominique power jogging in front of him. I sure as hell hope they were careful not to be seen together.
They each peer in, and Aly opens the van door for them to climb into the back row. The frigid air from the storm outside smacks me head-on. Dominique gives me an eyebrow shrug as she ducks her head to get in, and then Alex flashes me a goofy, knowing smile. But my patience is too far gone to exchange any such pleasantries.
“Okay, we’re good,” Aly says to the driver. He nods again, then pulls out of the alleyway.
Rain beats hard against the window as we turn onto K Street. Dominique and Alex fidget with their seatbelts behind us.
“Is someone going to tell me what the plan is?” I demand. I look to the back seat.
“We can talk now?” Alex asks, surprised. Obviously he’s not the one running the show.
Dominique exhales loudly as if she’s been holding her breath. “That was some cray ass shit!”
“I know! My heavens, I almost passed out when you and Connelly’s assistant came to the door, you know?” Alex’s words come out so fast he can barely breathe.
“Guys! Focus,” I snap.
Aly turns to me. “Okay. Sorry. Dominique and Alex are taking the red-eye back home tonight. There were only two seats left, so I’m leaving tomorrow, first thing. I have a laptop in my purse, and Brit wants me to transfer the files to her before the morning. Just in case something is to happen to them between now and then.”
“This is crazy. Where’s your hotel?”
Her head turns. “I don’t have one yet. I’ll find a motel or something.”
There’s an awkward silence. I can feel Dominique and Alex’s eyes on the back of my head.
Are they expecting me to let her come to my hotel? I feel bad she doesn’t have a room, but I’m not about to let a stranger stay the night with me. Plus, how do I know she can truly be trusted? Brit didn’t tell me anything about these plans, and Aly showing up nearly blew it all. What’s to say Brit doesn’t have something else up her sleeve?
More silence.
The Uber pulls up to my hotel.
I don’t know what to say. They’re each waiting for my direction.
“Why don’t you guys come inside? We can find a spot to talk in the lobby.”
“Where else were we gonna go?” Dominique says from the back, and both she and Alex laugh loudly as if what I said was the most blatantly obvious thing they’ve ever heard.
When we reach the lobby, we’re all dripping wet from the storm outside.
The doorman greets us, but all three of them are too distracted with my opulent accommodations to notice. I have to admit, the intricately carved bronze pillars, spacious marble floors, and colorful blown-glass chandeliers are quite the spectacle, but it’s not time for that. I need to be brought up to speed immediately.
We find a dimly lit velvet booth in the hotel lounge tucked away from everyone else. We each take a seat, and I make sure no one is within earshot. We each take off our coats, Dominique in her neon-yellow dress; Aly in her black, sleeveless dress; and Alex in his navy-blue maintenance outfit. He looks ridiculous.
“Where’d you get those clothes anyway?” I ask him.
“Oh, these? Dominique,” he says with that goofy laugh while looking down at the outfit. I’m pretty sure it’s a one piece.
“Some of my workers at the cemetery wear them. I had some extras,” she says.
“Whew. I still can’t believe how close of a call that was!” Alex lets out a snort of a laugh. Clearly now that Alex feels it’s safe to talk, he’s ready to reminisce on our adventures. “That was the riskiest thing I’ve ever done in my life, you know? I mean, wow! I’m still exhilarated!”
He’s definitely got a flare for the dramatic.
“You did good, big boy, but did you see Mama at work?” Dominique bats her eyes at him, showing off that hot pink mascara again. She raises a finger in the air and then wags i
t with attitude. “I can flirt with anyone at any time, boy. I mean, come on. I had Kurt wrapped around my finger simply by leaning over a bit too far.” She demonstrates what she means, letting her cleavage reveal itself against the table, and both Alex and Aly laugh hard. I’m not quite in the same mood. “And then Sandra. That girl gotta boyfriend, she said. But when I gave her my Dominique charm, she was swooning! The best part? I told her I been seeing her at the food court, and had to finally come say something. That girl is so desperate for affection. She fell right for it. Look at this,” she says, pulling her phone from her purse.
She holds it up for us all to see Sandra’s name in her phonebook, front and center. And on cue Dominique, Alex, and Aly burst into laughter. I can’t help but let out a chuckle too for that annoying assistant, but we need to focus.
“Okay, okay,” I say, trying to reel them in. “Let’s focus. I’ve still got questions that need answering. First of which is why you were all so on board with this plan. That almost blew my whole meeting with Connelly,” I say.
“Brit said this is the type of shit that would get us somewhere—if we find stuff on the laptop that links the majority whip to corrupt-ass deals with lobbyists, this case will be blown wide open. Said that if we could afford to take a day off, it’d be worth it. She even paid for our flights. Cha-ching! And it worked, didn’t it?” Dominique replies and uses her hands to pretend to brush money off her palm and into the air. Alex howls in laughter.
“We’ll see. We don’t know what’s even on that computer—it was a huge risk with no guarantee. And why couldn’t she and Rob be here? Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
“Brit has an issue with her visa so she can’t travel or take time off work, you know. Rob had an interview scheduled in Sacramento. We’re here to help you, David. I thought you’d be happy about this,” Alex says, seemingly perplexed by my attitude. Granted, I’m probably coming off as ungrateful and upset, but that’s because I should have known about these plans in the first place.
“Look, if we do find things on his computer, then yes, I’ll be happy. I just don’t want to be blindsided again.” Alex nods empathetically. I can tell he’s eager to please. And now I have to laugh. “I still can’t believe you brought a sedative.”