by Carsen Taite
On the way to Julia’s, she stopped at a high-end liquor store. Wouldn’t do to show up empty-handed. Inside the store, she walked directly to the refrigerated bottles and scanned the shelves. She paused with her hand on the Dom, but decided that was too presumptuous. If she’d made the short list, that might have been a good idea. Of course, if she’d made the short list, she wouldn’t be meeting Julia at her apartment, toasting with champagne, or any of the other things she’d daydreamed about doing with Julia all afternoon, none of which Supreme Court nominees did with their handlers. Shaking her head, she opened the glass door and let the cold whoosh of air curb her heat. She chose a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and touched it to her cheek. The chill felt good, but she’d need more than that to cool off.
Back on the road, she let her GPS lead the way while she let her mind wander to something other than the feel of Julia against her, like the nomination, or rather the not nomination. She hadn’t thought she’d be disappointed, but she was. A little anyway. Not just for herself, but for the legacy of the court. Moderate judges were the only ones who could survive confirmation anymore, which meant the role of naming the next Supreme Court justice had essentially fallen to the Senate. The Democrats in the Senate may have held on to their majority, but with sticky procedural rules, they had to walk a fine line to get the big work done. Justice suffered because of it.
In addition to her concerns about the law, she wondered how long Julia planned to stick around. Her business was campaigning, which usually meant heavy travel. If the campaign was regional, it could even mean a temporary move to another part of the country. Now that a short list was on its way to the Senate, would Julia see the process through or would she move on to the next exciting project? Maybe she’d take her long awaited vacation to Tahiti?
For a brief moment, Addison pictured them both in lounge chairs on the beach, under a big umbrella. No papers to grade, no budgets to write. No emergency calls to handle campaign issues, no press conferences. Just white sand, stiff drinks, and—
“Your destination is on the right.”
Addison shook away the fantasy and turned off the GPS. She punched in the code to the gate, parked, and made her way to the front door. Julia answered on the first knock.
Addison held out the wrapped bottle of champagne. “My contribution to the celebration.”
Julia took the bottle and smiled. “Very thoughtful of you. Do you mind if I put this in the fridge? I already have a bottle open and ready for us.”
“Not at all.”
Julia led her through the foyer into a living area. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
Shelves lined the room from floor to ceiling, full of hardcover books. The rest of the room was a bit like a museum, and Addison wondered how many of the curios were the real thing. A beautiful antique champagne stand was situated near a bar in the corner of the room, and Addison wandered over. Waves of icy condensation floated off the bottle of Dom Perignon. Julia had apparently decided this little celebration was worthy of the best.
As if on cue, she appeared in the entry. “Let me pour you a glass.”
“Thanks. This is a beautiful room.” Addison meant it, but what she didn’t say was that it didn’t fit with her image of Julia at all. She pictured Julia as kind of a nomad and figured her apartment would be sparsely furnished.
“I have a good interior decorator. I told her, make it look like someone substantial lives here. She went a bit crazy.”
Addison rubbed her hand on the ice bucket stand. “She did a great job. This piece looks like it should be in the Smithsonian.”
“I like nice things.”
Addison looked up, but instead of looking at the bucket, Julia was staring directly at her. She met her stare and replied, “Me too.”
After a few beats of silence, Julia blinked first. She poured them each a glass of champagne and raised her glass in a toast. “To nice things. And to nice people.”
Addison made a silent vow not to let her residual disappointment ruin what could be a perfect evening. She touched Julia’s glass with her own. “I’ll drink to that.”
Julia drank down half a glass in an attempt to calm her nerves. This was the first time she’d had a woman over, and now she cursed her decision to book a table at the hottest place in town when all she wanted to do was finish this bottle of champagne with Addison and see where it led.
They talked about the various art pieces in the room while she finished the glass. She started to pour another for both of them, but Addison stopped her. “I shouldn’t. Not until I’ve had something to eat. I won’t be responsible for my actions, otherwise.”
Julia stopped with the bottle in mid-air and stared into Addison’s smoldering eyes. Unlike her trysts on the road, Addison had substance. She didn’t want their first time together to be the result of too much to drink. She placed the bottle back in the bucket and took Addison’s hand. “It’ll keep.”
On the drive to the restaurant, they covered a half dozen subjects ranging from foreign affairs to Capitol Hill gossip. Addison held her own no matter what the topic. No, she was nothing like the women she’d bedded on the road.
The restaurant was chaotically busy, but Julia’s recent success secured them a secluded table. Once they’d ordered, Addison turned the subject to personal things. “What are you doing for the holidays?”
“Holidays?”
“You know, Thanksgiving, Christmas or Hanukkah, whatever you celebrate.”
“Oh, you mean the high holy times of shopping? I haven’t given it much thought. If I’m not working, I usually get out of town to avoid all the tourists who want to see lights in the capital. This year, I’ll probably just hole up in my townhouse and order Chinese.”
“Sounds very Currier and Ives.”
“You’re funny. How about you? Do you have big plans?”
“My father wants me to come home for Thanksgiving. My brother, Jack, is scheduled in for a visit.”
“He’s on his second tour, right?”
Addison cocked her head. “So, you really did do some research on me.”
“Just the basics. I know you graduated from high school at sixteen. You had an undergraduate degree in poli-sci from Berkeley by the age of nineteen, and you are one of the youngest to ever matriculate from Yale Law School at the ripe old age of twenty-two.”
“Wow, I’m impressed. And you, what’s your growing up story?”
Julia dodged the question. “I’m still growing up. Do you think your brother will get his leave?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. The military is a fickle master.”
“I sense a bit of bitterness.”
“I fully support the military. I’m just not sure how long we can keep supporting this war when it’s no longer a real war, to the extent it ever was.”
“Garrett ran on a campaign to bring our troops home.”
“I hope he keeps his promises.”
Julia didn’t want to talk about Garrett or politics of any kind. She raised her glass and offered a toast. “To all this evening promises.”
“You’re pretty good at this toasting thing.”
“I might be good at other things too.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ll let you be the judge.”
She cringed at her choice of words, but Addison laughed and said, “Do you think they’ll bring our dinner soon?”
“Giving up so soon?”
“We could have them wrap it up and we could go back to your place. Finish that bottle of champagne and…”
Julia grinned. “That’s a perfect idea.” She looked around. “Hold that thought.” She placed her napkin on the table, leaned over and kissed Addison on the cheek, and went in search of their waiter.
A few minutes later, having found the waiter and given instructions for their meal to be wrapped to-go, she walked back to the table, not even trying to hide her swagger. When she got close, she froze in her tracks.
Connie Armstrong
was in her chair, chatting with Addison.
Julia watched for a minute. Their conversation seemed lively, but friendly. No sign of trouble. She’d sent Garrett’s short list over to the Judiciary Committee’s chief of staff just this afternoon. She supposed there was a chance that Armstrong hadn’t seen it yet. She took a deep breath and strode over to the table.
“Senator Armstrong, how good to see you.”
Armstrong stood, turned slowly toward her, and fixed her with steely eyes. She knew and she was pissed. But seriously, what had she expected? Neither Sally Gibbons nor Addison Riley was moderate enough to survive confirmation. Armstrong overestimated the extent of her influence.
“Julia. I was just talking to Addison about the holidays. I had no idea who her dinner companion was, but now that I do, I must say I’m very surprised.”
“Okay.” Julia wanted to duel, but she wasn’t going to do it in front of Addison. The names on the list were good names. Respected jurists who could win, would win, approval from the Senate without creating a battle the newly re-elected president didn’t need.
“You care to explain what you’re doing?”
“Having dinner with a friend.”
“A friend? That’s rich.”
Before Julia could reply, Addison piped in. “What’s up with you two? I thought you were both on the same side.”
Julia looked down at Addison, who was genuinely perplexed. “We are.” She offered a half-hearted smile. “Senator Armstrong, I hope you have a nice evening.” She sat down and prayed this would be the end of it.
But the powerful senator refused to be so easily dismissed. “So, she’s good enough to share a meal with, but not worthy of consideration?”
“I’m right here. If you’re talking about me, please have the courtesy to recognize I’m in the room.” Addison looked between them. “One of you care to tell me what’s going on?”
Julia considered her options. Addison already knew she hadn’t made the short list. She’d known Armstrong would be pissed off, not just because Addison’s name was missing, but because there wasn’t a single woman on the list, but it wasn’t her job to affect the judicial makeup of the court. It was her job to get what her guy wanted. She wasn’t a policy maker. She was a play maker. The play the president wanted was Landry, and she’d been hired to make that happen. Addison’s name on the list would have been a distraction, and that’s why she’d advised the president not to even meet with her.
“I guess Julia didn’t mention I put your name in to replace Weir on the court.”
“Matter of fact, she did. Connie. I appreciate you going to bat for me, but you and I both know I’m not Supreme Court material.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re smart enough. You’re savvy enough. And hell knows you’re so young, you’d outlast all those right-wing assholes who threaten to take away our rights at every turn.”
Julia watched their conversation for a minute before jumping in. “You’re right, but you don’t have the votes to get someone like Addison confirmed.”
“Too bad, we’ll never even get a chance to test your theory.” Armstrong turned to Addison. “Did she tell you that she advised the president not to even bother meeting you? That it would be a waste of time?”
Julia felt each word punch her gut, and it took every ounce of strength she had to face Addison. When she did, she was met with a calm stare that seemed to last forever but was really only a couple of seconds. Then Addison turned to Armstrong.
“Connie, I appreciate your concern, but Julia tells me everything she thinks I need to know. Speaking of which, we were just discussing a private matter and I’d like to get back to it. Can I give you a call next week?”
Julia sighed with relief as she watched Armstrong give Addison a quick hug and make her way out of the restaurant. Addison stared after the senator, and Julia followed her lead by remaining silent. When Armstrong was out of sight, she looked at Addison. “Sorry about that.”
“I want to leave.”
“What?”
“I want to get the check, pay the bill, and I want you to drive me back to your house so I can get my car and go home.”
“You had me at drive you back to my house, but the rest of it? Come on, Addison. Are you really angry at me?”
“Angry? No, that doesn’t describe how I feel.”
“I told you about the short list.”
“What exactly did you tell Garrett about me?”
“The president wants a moderate.”
Addison stood. “I’ll find the waiter.”
Julia grabbed her hand. “Don’t. Please sit. Let me explain.”
Addison looked around and resumed her seat. Julia cleared her throat. “He wants Landry, and it’s my job to make that happen. If he interviewed you, it would distract from the goal. His entire short list needs to be controversy free.”
She paused to see if that was enough, but she could tell it wasn’t. She didn’t know what Addison wanted, but she plunged on, giving every detail, hoping one would satisfy and they could resume their date. “He knows you’re qualified. He asked why you weren’t on the short list and I told him what I just told you. He asked if he should meet with you and I said no. I may have said it would be a waste of time, but only because he wants to get this wrapped up quickly, before the holidays, so the Senate can vote on it right after the break.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. I’m ready to go now.”
“But…” Julia didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t accustomed to begging, and that’s exactly what she felt like she was doing. “I don’t know what I did wrong here. Why are you mad at me?”
“I suppose you might have told me the advice you gave the president instead of letting me find out from a friend, but I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re something.”
“You’re right. I’m disappointed.”
Julia was used to being not available, too busy, even infuriating at times, but disappointing? That’s one she tried to avoid at all costs.
*
The short drive home took forever. When Addison finally reached her building, she sat in the car, not ready to face the loneliness of her apartment.
She didn’t have to be lonely. She could call Eva and fall back into their relationship limbo.
No, Eva would just be another reminder of someone who was more concerned about appearances than substance. Eva wanted her, but only if it didn’t affect how the world saw her. Julia would always view things in terms of what whoever had hired her wanted. As much as she wanted someone to love and to love her, she cared more about not giving up who she was to be with someone.
She poured a glass of whiskey and curled up on the couch, noticing the difference between her place and Julia’s. Instead of expensive artwork, her walls were decorated with family photos. She’d kicked off her shoes and left them in the foyer and she might not pick them up for a day or two. She thought about Julia, in her perfect home with its fake personal touches. Was she so desperate for affection that she was attracted to the illusion that Julia projected?
Julia. She probably still didn’t get why Addison had abandoned their date. If she’d just been honest and told her that she’d advised Garrett not to consider her.
What? Would you have said, “That’s cool. I didn’t really want it anyway”? Right. So much for being honest.
She had wanted it, and why not? A federal judgeship was the pinnacle of a law career, and a place on the Supreme Court would be the achievement of a lifetime. But even if it wasn’t for her, she was mad they weren’t even considering someone with any backbone for the job.
She was mad at Julia for that. Julia should push for someone who would retain the integrity of the court, not let it backslide. If she cared…
But that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Julia’s job to push an agenda. It was the president’s. He’s the one who didn’t have a backbone. At any point, he could’ve told Julia h
e would put his force behind a real contender, not a spineless jurist like George Landry. But Landry was his pick, and Julia had been hired to make it so. Addison knew it was irrational for her to be angry with Julia for doing her job, but the disappointment lingered.
They were both better off. She’d probably just been a fling to Julia until the next project came around. A substitute for the beaches of Tahiti while she was stuck doing winter in the capital.
Addison reached for her phone, carefully considering the call she was about to make. Finally deciding what she needed, she pulled up a number and hit dial, hoping it wasn’t too late to call.
“Addison?”
“It’s me, Dad. Set an extra plate, I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Are we going to be here much longer?”
Julia looked up from the stack of papers in front of her. The members of her committee were gathered around the conference table, and they all looked like they had one leg out the door.
“What’s the problem?” The edge in her tone was designed to dare them to respond.
“Nothing.”
“They have plans for Thanksgiving,” Gordon said.
“Thanksgiving?”
“It’s tomorrow. You know, turkey, dressing, family?”
“I know what Thanksgiving is.” She contemplated what to do. They’d worked hard over the past two weeks, but the Senate would start informal interviews with the potential nominees next week, and they still had a lot to do to get them prepared. Of course, the nominees would probably want to enjoy the holiday too, so they could probably knock off for a day without sending the entire schedule onto the skids.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was after five. She’d keep working, but they could go. She told them as much and then gathered up her work. She may as well work in her office if she was going to be by herself.
She stood and found Gordon and Cindy still standing in the room. “What’s up? Don’t you both have somewhere to rush off to?”
Gordon spoke first. “I do, and you should too. You could take a day off every now and then.”