The Politics of Love (A Romantic Comedy)

by Ines Saint

  But now she had questions, too, about his favorite local restaurants, bands, and haunts. He tried short answers and pointed looks to bring her back to the subject at hand, while she waved away his dismissals, teasing that she would shave ten minutes off her bill if he'd tell her where it was he'd found fresh avocados.

  She made a note of a Taqueria he frequented and seemed surprised he preferred authentic hole-in-the-wall dives to expensive restaurants. "I had you pegged as someone who only frequented establishments where fish eggs with a sprig of something exotic on the side were considered dinner." Despite himself, he laughed.

  They didn't frequent the same places, but he soon realized that, like him, she thrived on new experiences. He had questions about places she'd mentioned and pretty soon, they'd veered off subject completely.

  They'd both been to every festival the city offered. To her, the Chinese Moon Festival was enchanting with its inspired legends. To him, it was all about the moon cakes. She loved the color and wonderful noise of the Cinco de Mayo, Puerto Rico, and St. Patrick's parades, while he enjoyed getting lost in the crowds, eating fantastic food, and watching people interact.

  "I sometimes feel like I can travel the world on the L," Kayla said, her eyes smiling.

  Jake nodded in understanding.

  "You've taken the L?" she asked.

  "Of course."

  "What's your favorite station?" Kayla asked.

  Jake shook his head at her for testing him. "Pilsen," he replied. "And you're guilty of judging me."

  "You're right. I'm sorry. But why Pilsen?"

  "Because of its mosaics," he said with a smile, knowing she still didn't believe him. "They're different from the sleek modern looks I grew up with."

  She beamed at him then, satisfied he was telling the truth. "I like Pilsen too. My dad's side of the family is from there, but my favorite is Quincy, because of the old ad posters. The whole station makes me feel like I've entered a time warp."

  "I'll have to go back there and picture it that way. Where's your family originally from?" he asked.

  "My mom's family is mainly from Puerto Rico, and my dad's is mainly from Mexico. How about you? Kelly is an Irish last name, right?"

  He nodded and smiled. "And my mom's family can trace some of their roots back to the Mayflower." For a moment, he found himself going back in time, wondering what it would've been like to share his teenage adventures through Chicago's eclectic neighborhoods with someone as warm and spirited as Kayla. The thought brought on an unexpected and unusual pang in his chest.

  When he caught her watching him, he looked down, worried that she'd somehow read his thoughts, and saw a page full of numbers. Numbers were easy. They made sense. He purposefully glanced at his watch and reminded her they had work in front of them. Kayla immediately agreed, shuffling through her papers to take him through her next idea.

  And for a while, they were safe and distant. Until...

  Her head shot up. "What do you mean rent out the instruments?"

  "The rental rate will be dependent on the family's income, using the allocation model you just described."

  "I meant to imply that kids should be able to borrow the instrument, fee-free."

  "It's an incredibly low fee, and trust me, it'll make a difference in how well they take care of the instrument, and how much they'll be encouraged to practice by their parents." He sat back, arms crossed.

  "It'll also make a difference in how many children will actually benefit from the program. Trust me, some parents will simply say no because they'd rather spend the money elsewhere." Kayla's voice went up a notch.

  "I promise you, the rent will be low enough that they can afford it," he calmly stated.

  "Right, of course, because you know what most families can and can't afford." She scraped her chair back and stood up.

  Jake looked up at her. "As a matter of fact, I do. I meet with them on a regular basis, and I help them manage their budgets." Unlike her, Kayla, his voice was calm and controlled. Hopefully, she'd take note. "Studies show parents and students are more responsive when there's a fee. Instruments are expensive, as you well know, Miss Diaz, and insurance won't cover every loss and repair."

  "Well, reality isn't black and white, on paper, and in neat little rows of numbers! Numbers are important, but they don't the full story. Reality is that some students won't be able to benefit from the program because of your little fee. We both know there are people in all walks of life who choose their wants over their families' needs, but when there's not enough money in the home to boot, it means that gambling or alcohol or whatever comes before a kid's instrument or sports fees or... or whatever!" She had begun to pace and gesture, and the fact that the press had described her as feisty came to mind.

  "We haven't even discussed what the fee would be, but you're already rejecting it out of hand," he pointed out, and before he knew what he was doing, he was standing up, too.

  "Because I don't want interested kids shut out of the program! When kids have nothing to do, they get into trouble. If anyone who wants to learn is given unrestricted access, they might learn a new talent instead. It's the same with sports." She took a step toward him, her fiery gold-brown eyes pleading, and he remembered that's how they'd shone when he'd pulled her closer, as they'd danced. It made him realize she was passionate about the program, and not necessarily angry. But her feelings were clouding her judgment.

  "They won't be shut out," he said, stepping closer, willing her to understand. His gaze strayed to her pretty pout. "And you are way too emotional about this." Working with her had not been a good idea. Already they were at a standstill.

  "At least I have emotions!" She glared up at him.

  "Really? That's your comeback? You're unreasonable."

  "So now I'm unreasonable, too? All because I care about these kids and want them to have a real shot?"

  "I care, too!" he exclaimed, taking another step toward her, his emotions finally getting the better of him, too.

  "Do you?" Her voice was soft, but her tone betrayed she wasn't sure she could believe him.

  "Yes." He stared down at her, searching her eyes until it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.

  A cough sounded. Startled, they both looked toward the door. Jess was standing there. "I thought you'd like to know the reporter who's going to talk to the kids is here. She's waiting, just outside, with the photographer, and they both heard you shouting," Jess whispered furiously.

  "We weren't shouting," he said.

  "Uh, definitely not when I came in." She looked from one to the other. "But your voices were raised before that."

  Jake looked at his watch, it was fifteen to ten. "They're early," he said. And they were supposed to wait for him across the street, at the youth center, he silently added.

  "Wrap it up, and I'll take them across the street and meet you there." Jess gave him a look and shut the door.

  Jake looked and stifled a sigh. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

  * * *

  Kayla's breathing was shallow, and she wanted desperately to hide it. One moment he was ice, and the next fire. Now he seemed almost normal. Not that it mattered. "All right." She calmed her breathing. "My dad always said we should be the change we want to see, and I always wish public servants could find a middle ground, that we could all see that other concerns and opinions matter. It'll be hard to let go, but I'm sure we can find a middle ground."

  They looked into each other's eyes again, and then both abruptly turned away. Kayla gathered her things, he opened the door for her and followed her out.

  "I asked Grandpa Filip to take the reporters across the street, since he's the one charmer among us, and then one of the volunteers will take over," Jess told Jake as soon as they were in the main room.

  Marcus turned to Kayla. "So. You're Tania Diaz's sister." His demeanor oh-so-casual, but his eyes betrayed his interest.

  "Yes, but, trust me, you don't want to go there," Kayla said, catching Jess's
eye.

  "Go where? It's just a question."

  "Oh, she knows where you're going with your question, you've got that look in your eye, and it ain't happenin'. Tania has sworn off men," Jess explained.

  "Just men?"

  "Yes. Men, dates, romantic interests. All of it." Kayla looked at him. "And she'd probably dislike you in particular—you've got a little too much of that Taye Diggs thing going on." She wiggled her fingers at him. "And she's especially sworn off good-looking men. So, yes, I'm Tania Diaz's sister, and yes, she's single, but no, I won't introduce her to you. It's for your own good."

  Marcus shot them a dubious look. "So not introducing me to a beautiful and intelligent woman is for my own good?"

  Kayla sighed. "I know, it's a shame, she really does have it all. She's scary smart—"

  "Scary being the operative word," Jess interrupted.

  "And she's wicked funny," Kayla continued.

  "Wicked being the operative word."

  "Oh, and she's freakishly perceptive," Kayla finished.

  "Let me guess, freak being the operative word?" Marcus said. "What about you? Are you a smart, beautiful man-hater like your sister?" he asked Kayla.

  "Tania's not a man-hater, she's more of an avid man-avoider," Jess explained, and then, with the devil's own glint in her eye, she added, "And hate implies passion. Kayla here has recently been semi-dumped for showing a lack of passion. So no, she doesn't have the nature for man-hating in her."

  Kayla's jaw dropped. What in the ever-living hell had possessed Jess to say that? She wanted to glare at her friend until she melted. So why her eyes went to Jake instead of to Jess, she couldn't say. And why her stomach flipped all over the place when Jake looked back at her, a disbelieving eyebrow raised, further stumped her. With one cold and quick, "See you next week," she left.

  Filip was across the street, and he offered Kayla a tour of Chicago Youth Works' rec center and classrooms.

  When they were finished with the tour, Kayla walked in a circle in the middle of the blue and beige rec room, taking it all in. Everything around her spoke of comfort and purpose; the worn sofas and billiard, air hockey, and foosball tables, the private rooms in which children received tutoring, and, outside, the basketball court and park. Filip had said there was a second, very colorful center in Pilsen, and Kayla hoped to one day see that one, too.

  Distant, but involved? No, she didn't understand Jake. All she knew was that he unnerved her. When he'd been standing close to her, arguing so calmly, she'd been torn between pounding him on the chest or tugging hard on his shirt to pull him closer—to make him listen to her again, the way he had when they'd been talking about the city, both seemingly enveloped in a strange cloud of intimacy.

  Later, as she walked to the bus stop, she caught sight of Jake, Marcus, another man and a few teenage boys playing football. Shirts vs. skins. And, because life was unfair as of late, Jake had to be skins. And, because life was unfair as of late, he had to have the upper body of a god. Breathless and flustered, she was thankful she'd have a full week to get her act together.

  * * *

  Kayla forgot all about her frustrations the next day. She'd finally be rehearsing with a full, nationally renowned orchestra. The fact that she wasn't getting paid for it seemed like a minor detail. Playing was all that mattered. Her heartbeat picked up as she made her way to the rehearsal hall, the sounds of musicians fine-tuning their instruments elating her.

  The first person she, when she walked through the door, was Julia Hamilton. Julia looked up when the door swung open, and then quickly looked away. Everyone was gathered either in small groups or pairs, but Julia sat alone, tuning her violin.

  Michelle Moynihan caught sight of Kayla and motioned her over. Surrounded by a couple of musicians Kayla didn't yet know, she said, "You're going to love this; you've got your first gig!" She introduced Kayla to a viola player named Ralph, and then to Simone, a cello player. Michelle explained they were part of a string quartet she'd been asked to put together, and she wanted Kayla to join. "But we've been asked to play this Friday night, so we're going to have to meet every evening this week to practice until at least midnight."

  Kayla closed her eyes for a brief moment and let the prospect of having a little more income relieve some of the anxiety she'd been holding in.

  "Tell us more about the gig," Ralph requested.

  "It's a private fundraiser for mayoral candidate Jake Kelly. Simone got us the gig."

  Kayla's eyes snapped open. Jake Kelly?

  "That's right," Simone agreed distractedly. She was busy studying Kayla. "Wait—aren't you and Jake Kelly dating or something? I wonder why he didn't go through you."

  "Because we're very much not dating. We barely know each other. Anything or everything you saw on the news was the result of a series of chance events."

  Ralph's eyes began to dance. "And being invited to play at his fundraiser is another part in this series?"

  The thought that she should try to get out of playing at the event crossed her mind and was quickly squashed. It would be ungracious, and she'd never get invited to play with them again. Gathering her defenses, she shot them what she hoped was an amused smile and said, "It appears to be. Yes." She caught Julia's eye then and tried to direct a more sincere smile her way, to show there were no hard feelings, but the young woman's eyes had darted away.

  Chapter 5

  Kayla arrived at the Lincoln Park address half an hour before the fundraiser was scheduled to begin. The event was being held in a historical, picturesque brick home with an old-fashioned, wrought iron fence guarding the front yard. Ivy lined the sides of the home, and there was a riot of colorful flowers in every window box. Kayla was thoroughly charmed.

  Inside, she was shown into a spacious parlor off a long, narrow hallway. Simone was already there, speaking to an elderly woman. As planned, they were dressed identically in floor-length black satin skirts and white blouses, with their hair in French braids.

  Four chairs were set up in a diagonal line to the left of the room, and she gathered that's where they'd play. To the right were six silver-blue clothed round tables set off by intimate, softly glowing candles in their center. The wood-paneled walls and a magnificent marble fire place made the room seem cozy despite its size. She wondered if Jake Kelly was there and wished he wouldn't arrive until she was already sitting down, lost in the music. No doubt he would notice her, but hopefully, he'd leave her to her playing and go schmooze with the guests who'd paid to be here and spend time with him.

  Ralph walked in, and Kayla smiled at how handsome he looked in his black suit. He wanted everyone to believe he was a rebel without a cause, but his baby-face looks were more High School Musical than Woodstock. Though she'd gotten to know most members of the orchestra over the long hours of practice, she'd especially warmed up to the members of the string quartet. Their personalities meshed well, and they'd shared a lot of thoughts and personal history during the long after-hour practice sessions.

  Michelle arrived next, and soon the newly formed string quartet was playing as if they'd been together for years. Kayla forgot all about Jake Kelly as Mozart's "String Quartet in G Major" streamed from her instrument. As people filed into the room, they played pieces by Schubert and Brahms. When they put their instruments down to change their sheet music, Kayla realized the room was now full. There must've been at least sixty people gathered, and she wondered if Jess was there. It hit her that she'd been so busy practicing, she hadn't found time to call her friend to find out if she'd be there with Jake Kelly. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Marcus talking to a man in a dark suit, red tie, and ponytail.

  As agreed, they began playing a more modern fare, beginning with Kayla's personal favorite of the music they'd be playing that night. The hauntingly beautiful sounds of Jean Sibelius's violin concerto began flowing from her instrument, and a feeling of exhilaration filled her heart.

  Depending on the music, Kayla sometimes felt as th
ough she was soaring across the sky one moment, then dipping and gliding the next. Sometimes she felt as though she was flying fast and low. Tonight, the music was all about spiraling, and it felt both exciting and ominous.

  * * *

  Jake Kelly arrived to the sounds of stringed instruments and a marathon of whispered names and instructions by Marcus. No sooner was Marcus finished than people began taking turns to greet him and subtly press for time so they could, in turn, not-so-subtly press their issues. Because the activity was a fundraiser and the required donations were steep, attendees had to be well-to-do citizens. Not wanting to owe anyone favors he couldn't or wouldn't repay, Jake had hand-picked the attendees. All were outstanding leaders and citizens with no hidden agendas, only legitimate concerns. Jake carefully listened to and answered people's concerns and questions.

  He caught sight of his mother and her best friend, Regina White, the woman who was hosting the event. Both women came up to greet him with warm hugs and pride in their eyes. He chatted with them for a few minutes, and they introduced him to a few friends.

  Jake then joined a conversation about the local real estate market. A popular topic, a few more people soon joined in, expressing their concern over the effect tardy mortgages had on the local economy. A stuck-up old-money local banker Jake was sure he hadn't invited rocked back on his heels and puffed his chest out as if he was about to say something that would change the world. Instead, he made everyone around him aware of his self-importance and ignorance. Jake was about to speak up again, but someone in front of him shifted and gave him an unobstructed view of the string quartet. He was struck dumb in a way he was wholly unaccustomed to.

  Kayla was playing, and the soft emotions reflected in every one of her features drew him in and made him wonder. He must've stared at her a moment too long because Marcus cleared his throat meaningfully. Jake turned back to the small crowd, said his bit on the real estate market, and slipped away.

  He joined his mother and some of her friends again, positioning himself near the string quartet, trying to single out the sounds coming from Kayla's violin. Different feelings seemed to pour out of her instrument, and he felt strangely protective of her. The second the melody ended, she pinned with her gaze, her eyes questioning. He turned away, the people and sounds in the room coming into sharp focus again.