My pulse is starting to race. “I don’t understand.”
“You sell sandwiches? Fine. It’s a respectable job. Except you pretended to be a reporter. You’re chasing this story and you’re not supposed to be. Please don’t get pissed at me for saying this, but you don’t seem like the type to do anything backwards.”
“I have to use the ladies room,” I blurt, disengaging myself from Gabe on the dancefloor. A lot of guests are watching us with avid interest, so I pull him down for a kiss. One. Two of them. “I’ll be right back.”
“Elise…” Gabe curses under his breath. “I pushed too soon.”
“I’ll be back,” I say again, throat dry. And then I’m weaving through a sea of tuxedos with a smile tacked onto my face. Tobias and Banks frown at my departure, pushing off the bar as if to follow me, but I shake my head at them, mouthing the word “bathroom.” Still, they don’t settle, but there is nothing I can do to allay their worries right now.
I’m too busy having an identity crisis.
Men outnumber women ten to one at this party, so the upstairs ladies room is relatively empty. Two older women end their discussion when I walk inside and leave through the still-swinging door. I prop my hands on the sink and meet my own eyes in the mirror, Gabe’s voice echoing in my head. You don’t seem like the type to do anything backwards.
Funny, that’s exactly who I am. These days, anyway. Not always.
I wasn’t always like this.
Two voices reach me through the bathroom door and my chin snaps up, sending my troubling thoughts scattering like picnic goers in a rainstorm. I know those voices. Recognize them well. One of them belongs to Deputy Mayor Alexander. The other is Jameson Crouch. Gabe’s boss, to be specific. Of course, they’re both at this party, but meeting alone on a separate floor at the end of a dark hallway? To say people would find it suspicious is an understatement.
I’m here tonight for Gabe. Despite the reminder, though, I can’t deny the urge to follow those voices. It’s not technically safe. Karina wouldn’t like it, to say nothing of the men downstairs who already seem so protective of me. But I don’t owe anyone a single explanation about who I am or what motivates me, right? Not to Gabe, not Banks and certainly not Tobias. With that reassurance ringing in my head, I creep out of the bathroom and follow the voices.
“What are you doing?” I whisper to myself. “Something bad. This is bad.”
I swore to Karina I would drop this story. But not following these men would be neglectful. They’ve practically fallen into my lap, right? I was just minding my own business, then bam. Potential headline news walks by. Creeping on the balls of my feet to the end of the deserted corridor, I stop just before the turn and listen.
“Let’s make this quick before we’re missed,” Deputy Mayor Alexander clips. “Being caught gossiping like schoolgirls near the bathrooms would raise some eyebrows.”
“Jesus Christ,” drawls the union boss. “You’re in a fucking mood.”
“What did you not understand about ‘make this quick’？”
“Hey.” The union boss takes on a much sharper tone. “I’m suffering through this phony truce between me and the mayor to make sure he doesn’t suspect anything. I’m your ticket to becoming the mayor of this godforsaken city, in case you forgot.”
“I didn’t. That’s why I’m here,” growls Alexander. “You really want to do this? So far, you’ve been accepting the information I give you to take potshots at the mayor. But leaking documents and private correspondence to the press is a whole other animal.”
“We have no choice but to take this to the next level—they poked fun at the feud on frickin’ Saturday Night Live last week. No one is taking the debate seriously anymore. Now the mayor invites my union to this gala as some kind of peace offering? I’ll let him think I accept, but he’s dead wrong if he thinks I’m going to forget the way he’s shuffled aside the union too many times. You’re going to get in that office and change how things are done. In our favor.”
“All right. I hear you.” There’s a sound of metal slapping down on a palm and I hold my breath, listening. “These are emails the mayor sent me prior to the governor’s visit last month. He calls the governor a scheming reptile, among other select names. Not to mention what he says about his wife—those are going to be the nail in the coffin. The first family of New York is popular as hell in this town. Floating these emails out for public consumption isn’t going to help the mayor come election time. Once the writing is on the wall, that’s when I’ll reluctantly announce my intention to run.”