I had tried to sleep in my clean bed in my clean house, but nothing would come my way. I just continued to think about Claire in my house, what we had talked about and what we hadn't. I was also mesmerized by the corners of my house I never knew existed until a super OCD Senator came through and unveiled them. So, instead of rolling around in my blankets and bed, I got up at three in the morning, ate a decent breakfast for the first time since I was an agent, then showered and dressed into another one of my brand new tailored suits. A dark blue fitted one with thin light blue pinstripes and a grey silk V-neck shirt underneath. I then took extra care doing my hair and makeup, making sure that I wiped any traces away of hesitation or gave Claire any little clues that I was nervous, worried and had not slept in what was creeping up on twenty-four hours. I was even able to downgrade the large gauze pad over my cut to a small Band-Aid.
I then sat on my couch watching the early morning news before I grew bored and climbed in my car to drive to the Senators Malibu vacation home. It didn't help that my house now reminded me of Claire and the intimate moment we shared on the couch as she cleaned and bandaged my cut. I decided it was best to leave before I started thinking again like I had all night, thinking about her hands and how they felt on my cheek.
The upside of leaving as early as I did, was the lack of rush hour traffic, cutting my drive in half. Downside, I was almost an hour and a half early for my second day of work, something that mildly terrified me for unknown reasons. As I tried to sift through what those reasons could be, I parked the car in a small pull off area for sightseers, listening to a classical radio station host discuss the intricacies of Mozart's early years.
Stretching out my fingers here and there, I tested them to see how the impending shakes were fairing as the scotch began to leave my system completely. I could already feel that they were coming, and wanted to keep a note of when they began to attack, so I could start my own plan of attack of eating, drinking coffee and utilizing all the other small tricks I had employed in the past when sobriety was a necessity.
Finally giving in at around seven twenty, I drove away from the willow tree, pulling the Lincoln up onto the winding side road that would take me directly to the Senators front door. As I flicked on the turn signal, an identical Lincoln to mine stopped at the edge of the driveway, pausing before it turned right and drove away from me in the opposite direction. Leaving me curious as to how many cars Claire owned and if I needed to keep track of said cars.
I turned into the empty driveway with my Lincoln, parking it in the same spot I had a few days ago, silently designating it as my spot. Climbing out of the car I took a deep calming breath, I knew hurricane Rebecca would be awaiting me inside, ready to strike at first sight.
I snatched my bag from the back seat and walked to the front door, suddenly confused if I should just walk right in or knock. My first day I had been met by Claire out in the front of the house, and somehow we never worked out the small details of if I could walk in or use the access card I had yet to receive.
I huffed, realizing I was nervous, good lord I was nervous and it confused me. I was never nervous about a job, even back on the first day I started at the Secret Service.
Shaking my head, I compromised and rang the doorbell, smiling at the deep abnormal tone the doorbell made. I had half expected a pretentious sound to alert the Senator and her assistant to the arrival of all their guests, instead of the plain normal one still echoing through the house. I took another deep breath, clutching my briefcase with both hands, trying to work out what I would say as the first winds of hurricane Rebecca hit me.
Instead I was met with the smiling Senator, "Kit, good to see you this morning. Come in, I was just making coffee." Claire opened the door wider and walked away, leaving me to follow her into the foyer unescorted. I noticed immediately she was still eagerly accepting the dress downed lifestyle, wearing the same fitted jeans I saw her in yesterday but sans the holstered gun tucked in the waistband. The casual dress outfit was topped off with a pale coral V-neck, and I absently wondered how many V-necks this woman owned. Not that I minded since they did nothing but add to her natural beauty.
I shook the unprofessional thought out of my head as I entered the foyer, shutting the door behind me. My heightened emotions and impending withdrawal could still technically be used as an excuse for the minute things I felt whenever Claire was in my presence, but that wouldn't last forever. They would eventually fade away, leaving me to face some harsh realities about the Senator and my growing feelings about her.
Following the sounds of being cabinets being opened and shut, ceramic coffee mugs landing softly on the deep granite tabletops that lined her kitchen, I wound my way through the hallways to the kitchen. Entering the kitchen, I set my briefcase down on the floor, watching Claire fill the cups with a genuine smile. "I am glad you are on time, Kit. There are few changes I would like to go over with you this morning.” I couldn't help but stare in her blue green eyes, noticing that today they were a sea green. I swallowed hard, mentally noting that the Senators eyes would often change color depending on her mood and how much sunlight was in the room. Today, they were a stunning color and I couldn't look away.
She handed me a hot cup of coffee, her eyes settling on my trembling hands to see if my withdrawal was taking hold. I took the cup and quickly filled both of my hands with the warm white mug, ending Claire's silent analysis of me and my silent analysis of her beautiful eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her drift away from my hands and towards to the skin colored Band-Aid over my cut, "How are your stitches doing today?"
I smiled tenuously, "They've seemed to have calmed down. It helped that I didn't take a scalding hot shower. I have already ruined enough towels with blood." I paused, focusing on the mug in my hands, "Thank you for that as well, being there...to clean it up." I cringed when the struggled words stumbled out of my mouth.
I took a sip of black coffee, while Claire added cream to hers and a few packets of that strange organic sugar everyone raved over, that's when I began to notice that Rebecca had yet to make an appearance in the room. I had come to realize in the short time I was around the two women, Rebecca would appeared at least five minutes after being apart from Claire.
Nine minutes had passed without a sign of the former NSA agent.
"Where is Rebecca? I would like to get started as soon as possible on today's training." I asked quickly, half expecting Rebecca to materialize out of thin air and start berating me for being a fuck up.
Claire hopped up onto the counter by the sink, sitting down and allowing her legs to swing aimlessly. I was taken aback, once again, at the simple and very un-politician ways this woman had about her, she truly could turn it on and off. Claire smiled at me before glancing out the window over the sink, "That is one of the changes I would like to go over with you. Rebecca will not be training you today, I will be."
I almost spit up the coffee I had in my mouth. Coughing as I set the cup down, I asked cautiously, "Um, you?"
Claire held kept her gaze out the window, entranced by a bird or the far off waves, "Rebecca had to fly to Geneva for a few days, to get her heart looked at and take care of a few things at Criterion." She turned, looking right in my eyes, "I promise it won't be as intense or aggressive as you are used to with Rebecca, but I will get you where you need to be." She slid off the counter effortlessly.
Setting her cup in the sink, Claire turned to face me, arms folded and still smiling, "Is that agreeable with you? If not we can work on other things until she returns and continues your training."
I involuntarily shook my head faster than I wanted, "No, no I think you will be able to do an equally exceptional job." I smiled, "When do you want to get started?"
Claire pushed away from the counter, "I guess now is a good of a time as any."
I watched her glance at the clock, "Leaves us with five hours to work until lunch." She peered over her shoulder at me, "How do you feel about pizza today? There is a small pl
ace that makes the best Chicago style this far west."
I stared at the woman, still amazed at how she was a Senator when she was a pure example of a rich girl on vacation. I cleared my throat, reaching for my briefcase, "Can I ask one question before I agree to pizza?"
Claire nodded as she grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, leading the way to the basement office, "Certainly, Kit, I told you, you can ask me anything."
I took a few steps, ending up next to the woman, my eyes falling without my permission to how well those fitted jeans really did fit her. I bit the inside of my mouth to bring my attention back to the question I wanted to ask, "Why politics? You are unlike any politician, or celebrity for that fact, I have worked for."
Claire spoke as we navigated the curved and angled hallways of the house to the basement stairs. "Politics had always intrigued me as teenager. In college I did choose medicine and science to be my first true love. The world it showed me was something that allowed my hyperactive mind endless possibilities to search out, then as my work in research medicine continued, I became frustrated at how the world seemed to rely on politics and government to dictate how to take care of themselves. I saw that a change was needed and from my experiences in life and the way I was raised, I knew the only way to facilitate real change was to dive in head first, get my hands dirty and fight for what I felt was right."
Claire swiped her access card, the door clicking open with a whisper. She held it open for me, "I then found I had a need for the government and its immense resources as I started to get more involved with the Criterion Centre. Surprisingly, politics is a whole different puzzle for my mind to work through. It's a puzzle of people and power and how to place the pieces in the right spots to get where you need to and get what you want."
I walked to the desk, flopping down into the leather chair, still watching Claire as she moved around the room, picking up files and papers, "To really answer the question I know is underneath the one you asked." She paused when she sat down on the chair next to me, rolling it over closer. So close I could smell the ocean air on her. Claire had been down at the beach this morning, allowing the salt from the water to catch into her perfectly messy hair, "Just because I am a Senator in the Republican party doesn't mean that I am not still Claire, the girl who prefers to dress like a beach bum and not treat people other than people. I may have power, money and influence but I find it all useless unless I maintain the kindness my mother raised me on." Claire smiled at me, it was that same smile that carried up into her blue green eyes and made my heart move a little more erratically in my chest. "Does that answer your questions, Kit?"
I stared in her eyes; there really was a unique kindness about her. A kindness that could be compared to an overwhelming sense that she did not clean houses just for anyone. I tore away from her eyes, letting my heart to return to its normal rhythm.
I swallowed, "Sort of. You surprised me the other day and every other day I work with you. I secretly wish all politicians were like you." Memories of all the assholes and jackasses I had to protect ran through my mind. Instances where I was yelled at for catching some Congressman in silk pajamas or interrupting a Senator during their morning coffee with the daily security updates. Claire was truly unlike anyone I had ever met and it extended past just those I had worked for.
I had never met a woman like her period, especially one that was invoking the strange feelings she was. Feelings that were inching in growth every moment she showed me kindness where others never did. It confused and frightened me.
I went to turn on the monitor in front of me when I felt her hand on my arm, warming my skin even through the thick cotton of my brand new suit, "You surprise me every day too, Kit." Her voice had shifted into the quiet one, the all too familiar quiet one she had used when we sat inches apart on my couch, her thumb grazing my skin in a way that I couldn't easily forget.
I nodded, grabbing the mouse, gently breaking the physical contact between Claire and I. "Rebecca left off at setting me up with my own email accounts for the Senate and for Criterion. I think that's a good place to start." I focused on clicking around the desktop, I really didn't want to turn and look at Claire, even as I could feel her eyes on me, making me nervous.
I never got nervous, even on my first day at the Secret Service, I wasn't nervous. I let out a slow breath, clicking on the email icon; I already wasn't liking how this day was starting.
__________________
Claire was a far better trainer than Rebecca, and like she said, she was much less intensive and aggressive and took her time explaining things. The hours passed faster when I didn't feel as if I was being scrutinized for every little thing I did or didn't do to Rebecca's high standards.
Lunch slipped past us and I would not have noticed if it wasn't for the fact that my body began to argue with me, confused at my second attempt at finding a sober path, it now wanted revenge, begging for anything to fill the cravings that were filtering down to my hands. Making them tremble like I was in the Arctic without gloves.
Claire was mid-sentence telling me how to access the file system for the Criterion Centre when she paused. I looked up at her to ask what was wrong, when I saw she was staring at my trembling hands. "We should have stopped for lunch. I'm sorry, Kit. I tend not to stop when I am on a rant." She stood up, "Let me go place an order now so it will be here by the time we get cleaned up."
She held her hand out to me, "Go upstairs. Inside the fridge is a pitcher of herbal tea I made last night for you. It will help take the edge off of your shakes. Then in the cabinet next to the fridge is a bottle of milk thistle capsules, take one, both will help with your withdrawal, speed it up and take the worst of it away without having to seek a heavy prescription."
I looked at her hand. It was a simple gesture of kindness, an offer to help me up and out of my leather chair, the cramped seat I had resided in for the last seven hours. But I didn't take her hand, accept the polite gesture. Instead I used the arm rests and pushed up, avoiding all contact with Claire as I moved past her. It was not my intention to be rude or dismiss her, I was just afraid that the more I touched her the more I would want too. I smiled, "You support one of the leading research facilities in the world for medicine, and yet you seek out the old wives way of getting me off the bottle." I said it with a smile on my face, she had surprised me again.
Claire dropped her hand to the side, my silly comment taking the sting away from not accepting her hand. She shrugged, "Sometimes simple is best." Claire then turned to my empty chair, sitting down, she dug out her cell phone, pulling up an Al's pizza on the contact screen. She smiled at me as she placed the order, waving me off to go upstairs and get some tea.
I took my leave and when I was in the kitchen, I found the tea and the milk thistle exactly where she said they would be. I shook my head, filling a glass with the aromatic brown tea. My hands were worsening, almost to the point they were that day at Pepperdine. I sipped hesitantly, expecting the tea to taste like dirt and was surprised when it hit my taste buds. It was unlike any tea I had before, it was actually delicious. Popping a small white capsule into my mouth I walked out into the sitting room. The same room that I had my interview just a few days ago.
Walking to the large windows, I focused on the view that seemed to go on forever and made the house feel like it was on the edge of a cliff. Open, endless and beautiful.
I held my glass, taking more and more sips as I began to feel the settling affects almost immediately. I let my eyes drift across red terra-cotta roof tops, down to large clusters of full green tree tops and finally to the sand that was a light beige from the sun and a dark brown from the lingering touch of the waves.
The view reminded me of the trip to Italy I had taken right before Montreal. How I stood out on the balcony of the house he rented for us that weekend. The terra-cotta roofs before me now, were almost exact to the ones that lined the lake around me. I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes. That was the last time I was happy, or t
hought I was happy. It was hard to be happy when you had to live a life in secret, to live in love in secret. I opened my eyes and let out a breath, to live what I thought was a life in love. I cringed as the happy memories of that trip to Italy faded into the days before that life altering moment in Montreal. I drained the rest of the tea, turning to head back into the kitchen for more. If my sober clear mind wanted to explore the depths of my memories, I would need all the help I could find in keeping my hands off a new bottle of scotch.
When I looked up from my empty glass, I caught Claire standing in the doorway to the sitting room. Her arms folded across her chest, smiling as she looked out the same large windows I had. "That view is quite remarkable. It was the sole reason my father bought the land and had the architect build the house around it." She took a few steps towards me, "The pizza will be here in twenty minutes." She looked at the empty glass in my hands and back up to my eyes, a flicker crossed over her eyes telling me she was reading me. Picking up on the building distress I was trying to hide from my memories, "How is the tea?"
I forced out a smile, "It is actually better than I thought it would be. I always found herbal tea to taste like dirt or dandelions." I went to head towards the kitchen, "I was about to get some more."
I walked past Claire, and right as I was at the dividing line between the dark mahogany wood planking floor of the sitting room and the grey marble tile of the kitchen I heard Claire say, "Kit, if you ever want to talk. I'm here. Not as the Senator or your boss, but as a friend who cares." It was the couch voice, the same one that blew through me and sat around my heart like a lead weight. Coaxing it to let go and feel safe when she spoke to me or was near.
I paused in my steps, her words hitting deeper than expected. I really hated the fact that this woman had the innate ability to read me like a thin piece of tissue paper. No matter how hard my walls stood or how thick they were built, she saw through them all.
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