Chapter 7 #3
They all turned to see Jo Sessego leaning in the doorway, sipping a mug of coffee, looking effortlessly perfect in faded jeans and a dark green blazer.
She was average height, but people always mistook her for tall—she had that energy.
She had long black hair streaked with gray, olive skin, and a bright, easy smile.
She wasn’t beautiful, exactly; she was something better. She was magnetic.
“Good morning, Congresswoman,” Kira said. “To be honest, I think we’ve all been guilty of a little vibe murder today.”
“How Orient Express of you.” Jo stepped into the room and pulled up a chair next to Simone. “Catch me up. What’s going on?”
“Preethi got you an interview with Brent Hogan,” Gabe told her. “He wants to do it Thursday.”
“Excellent!” Jo beamed. “But I’m in DC for votes on Thursday. Can he do next week?”
“Congresswoman, we think it may be a good thing to keep you out of DC,” Kira said delicately.
“Who thinks that?” Jo asked, her tone inquisitive, not accusatory. “All of you?”
“No.” Anya clasped her hands under the table. “Not all of us.”
Anya didn’t like to break ranks, but part of her job was stating her opinion to the candidate. She wouldn’t belabor the matter, but she wouldn’t stay silent either.
“Okay, talk me through it,” Jo said. “Why is skipping the vote a good idea? Because the electorate is to my right on immigration, and showing up for the vote only reminds them of that, which is a pointless exercise since the bill won’t pass anyway?”
“More or less.” Gabe nodded.
“And Anya thinks I should go to DC”—Jo turned to Anya—“because if I skip the vote to go on some center-right podcast, our progressive supporters will call me a hypocrite and small-donor money will dry up?”
“Also because it’s the right thing to do,” Anya said quietly.
Jo turned to Gabe and grinned. “It’s cute how she always brings that up, isn’t it?”
“She’s very consistent.” Gabe’s gaze flicked over to Anya for half a second, but then he looked back at Jo.
“You’re both smart, but you’re both wrong,” Jo said.
“Ma’am?” Anya frowned.
“I need to go to DC to vote on Thursday because it’s my job,” she said. “My constituents don’t skip work because it’s politically expedient and neither do I. But I understand that leaves us with a communications problem. Gabe, have you drafted my speech for the picket line tomorrow?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Culinary 226 has helped thousands of immigrants become citizens—it’s one of their proudest accomplishments as a union.
” Jo tilted her head, thinking. “So let’s focus the remarks there, okay?
The economic impact of immigration reform, but also the deeper calling of the labor movement, the right of all people to live and work with dignity.
Hit it hard. I can’t bring voters around to my way of thinking unless I make a full-throated case.
And I’d be thrilled to talk with Brent Hogan about that topic or any other on any day except Thursday. Sound good?”
There was a chorus of “yes, ma’ams,” and Jo left to go take one of her million meetings of the morning before she had to leave for her afternoon event in Crystal Springs.
“She’s gonna be president someday,” Anya sighed.
“Are you kidding?” Simone snorted. “No way is this country good enough for her.”
“Okay, I think we’re all set here.” Kira wrapped up the meeting. “Anya, Gabe, can you hang back a minute? I want to check in on email approvals.”
Anya glanced at Simone, who pointedly looked down as she sped out of the conference room; everyone else seemed to be in a hurry too. Ugh, was it that obvious that Anya and Gabe were about to get in trouble? Dale closed the door behind him, and Kira sat back down at the head of the table.
“I think you both know we can’t keep going like this,” Kira said quietly. She was usually so chill and affable; it made Anya feel awful to see her in distress.
“I agree,” Gabe said brusquely. “I want Shawn to take over email approvals.”
Anya gave him a withering look. “You think that’s actually what this meeting is about?”
Gabe peered at Kira. “Wait. What’s this about?”
“It’s about us.” Anya sniffed. “Obviously.”
“Us?” Gabe looked incredulous. “I’m not the one who can’t let anyone have fun—”
“I’m not the one taking credit for other people’s ideas in the press!” Anya’s voice came out higher pitched than she’d intended.
“That’s what this is about?” Gabe laughed meanly. “Okay, Anya, I’ll call Politico and ask them to print a retraction. We wouldn’t have a campaign without some Reddit AMA, it’s your work of genius and the people yearn to know about it. I’m the problem here.”
“You’re both the problem!” Kira snapped. “This childishness has to stop. You don’t like each other? Who cares! I need you to do your jobs, have a good attitude at work, and stop distracting your colleagues and each other. Is that too much to ask?”
“No,” Gabe mumbled. He looked like a child who’d been scolded.
“I’m sorry, Kira.” Anya sat up straight and kept her tone calm and professional. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Kira smiled—she looked immensely relieved. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it. “I need to take this. Can you guys work out the email stuff without me?”
They both nodded and Kira headed out, leaving Anya and Gabe alone in uncomfortable silence.
“I really do need approval on this round of fundraising emails,” Anya finally said. “Simone needed the numbers yesterday, and we haven’t even sent the emails out yet.”
“Which is why I want Shawn to take point on approvals,” Gabe said. “I don’t want to hold you up, and it’s his job to handle things when I can’t.”
Anya rolled her eyes. “I know you’re so busy and important—”
“It’s not that,” Gabe cut her off.
Anya peered at him. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Jo.” Gabe ran his hand through his too-long hair—annoying, but he did look genuinely stressed.
“What about her?” Anya asked, unable to keep a note of suspicion out of her voice.
“I don’t get her like you do,” he said.
“What, the immigration vote?” Anya asked. “That was nothing. Everyone in the meeting agreed with you.”
“Yeah, but Jo agreed with you.” Gabe exhaled. “When I have to write speeches for her, it’s not that I don’t want to look at emails for you, or call a reporter for Preethi, or do whatever anyone needs from me. But I can’t. Because I have to focus on getting her remarks right.”
“This is the first time you’ve really cared what a candidate thought of you,” Anya murmured, a little amazed.
“She’s incredible,” Gabe said quietly.
“At least we can agree on that,” Anya joked, and Gabe laughed a little.
“So, the emails?” he asked.
“Shawn can approve them,” Anya agreed. “But he can not give my team writing feedback.”
“He won’t!” Gabe put up his hands. “I’ll tell him he can raise a message flag if he sees one, but it’s up to you how to rework it. Okay?”
Anya paused, then nodded. “Deal.”
“Good.”
Gabe reached out his hand, and Anya shook it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she touched him—probably not since that night in Vieques?
Her cheeks warmed, and he held her hand for longer than necessary, looking at her the whole time.
There was something charged in his gaze—why wasn’t he letting go of her hand?
“Anya…” he said.
“Just don’t.” She looked down and jerked her hand back.
“Don’t what?” He looked puzzled.
“Whatever you were going to say—all this confusing shit between us, all this unresolved whatever this is—can we not? It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”
He smiled and leaned toward her.
“But I think you really, really want to know what I have to say.”
She hated that her breath got heavier, that he could probably tell, that he was close enough that she could smell him, that he smelled really good.
“I don’t,” she said softly.
“It’s okay, Anya,” he said, his voice low. “I was just going to tell you that your shirt is unbuttoned.”
He glanced down at Anya’s green silk shirt and smiled.
Fuck, he was right. She’d been in such a rush to get to the office after she had sex with Zeke that she hadn’t bothered to check a mirror, and she’d missed a button right over her bra.
She folded her arms across the offending gap, her face flushed with humiliation.
“Guess you really did sleep late.” He smirked, then got up and walked out of the room.