Chapter 16. Lennix
LENNIX
“Your dad or your boyfriend?” Kimba asks, dipping a trio of French fries into a dollop of mayo nestled in the red-and-white-checkered paper cone.
I glance at my phone.
“Maxim’s not my boyfriend,” I answer, giving her half my attention and the remainder to the call. “And it’s not him or Daddy. It’s Mena. Better see what she needs.”
“If you say so, Miss I Popped My Cherry by Spending the Night with a Stranger.” Vivienne laughs and takes a sip of her ginger beer. “We’ll just be here eating our weight in fries and rubbing our feet.”
We visited the Anne Frank House today and did a walking tour of the major sites. We’re sucking this city dry of every experience possible.
I leave them and their ribbing at the sidewalk café and walk toward a low wall a few yards away.
“Hey, Auntie,” I greet Mena. “How goes it?”
“Fine,” she returns, a smile in her voice. “Enjoying Amsterdam?”
“Very much.” An unrepentant grin spreads across my face. I’ll share all the details with her when I get back. “Everything okay? Did my father put you up to this? I’ve got him down to one call a day, but if he—”
“No, I haven’t spoken to Rand, but it doesn’t surprise me he’s calling so much. You know how hard it is for him when you’re away.”
“I know. I get it, but what happened to Mama…” Mama’s disappearance and presumed death form a broken circle that never closes, and I know those question marks are like scythes chopping into my dad’s sanity some days. The least I can do is take his calls and reassure him I’m okay.
“I get it,” I finish lamely after a moment. “So if you aren’t calling for Dad, what’s up?”
“Remember when we talked by the river right before you left?”
“Of course.”
“Has your path been made clear yet?”
I hesitate before answering. I want to tell her yes, but the three options I have still sit there, none of them compelling me to take a step. “Not really.”
“Okay. I have something that may interest you while you decide. Maybe. No pressure. I don’t want to influence your choices, but this just seemed—”
“Spit it out, Auntie.”
“I have a friend from college in Oklahoma, Jim Nighthorse,” she says, an eager note entering her voice. “Cherokee Nation on his mother’s side. He’s running for Congress.”
My mental antennae peak, and I go still. My fingertips tingle.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Tell me more.”
“He’s amazing, Lenn. He’s a lawyer and has represented several cases on behalf of the Cherokee Nation the last few years.”
“That all sounds incredible. What do you want? How could I help?”
“You could work on his campaign. I can email you his file, but don’t take a long time to decide. He’s setting up interviews now to outfit his staff. It’s gonna be a tough race. His opponent, the incumbent, supported a company’s bid for a pipeline in Oklahoma a few years ago.”
As soon as she says the words, something clicks and settles inside me like I was waiting to hear them.
I’ve heard so little about this man and this opportunity, but already it feels right.
That’s been happening to me a lot lately.
I felt certain about last night, about Maxim, and for some reason, I feel certain about this.
“And you think I can help?” I ask, even though I already believe I can.
“Yes. He needs someone bold and young but wise and wily.”
“And you think that’s me?” I ask with a huff of humor.
“Oh, I know it is.”
I straighten from the wall and start back toward the table where my best friends wait, still dipping fries in mayo.
“Send me the file.”