Chapter 9
——Forwarded Message——
FROM: Sessego for Senate Finance Team
TO: VIP Donor List
SUBJECT: INVITATION: Jeff Rooney Reception
You are cordially invited
to the home of Jeff Rooney
in Beverly Hills
for a reception and seated dinner
in support of Josefina Sessego for Senate
Cocktail attire suggested
Click here for pricing information.
Text message transcript: Preethi Mishra and Anya Katz
Preethi [2:08pm]: Heyyyyyyy
Preethi [2:08pm]: Can you do me a huge favor??
Preethi [2:08pm]: I was supposed to grab Gabe at his hotel in Santa Monica and drive him to Rooney’s house, but I’m caught up with all this drama about the other side calling us “Hollywood elites” because of this fundraiser
Anya [2:10pm]: Oh my god, can they PLEASE get a less boring line of attack
Preethi [2:10pm]: I know right lol
Preethi [2:11pm]: Anyway I know you and Gabe aren’t exactly besties rn, but you have a rental car, right? Would you mind getting him for me?
Anya [2:11pm]: No problem
Anya [2:11pm]: Why is he at a hotel?? Shouldn’t he be in supporter housing with the rest of us?
Preethi [2:12pm]: Seeing his gf
Preethi [2:12pm]: Thank you Anya!!!
Anya could think of few things that sounded less appealing than chauffeuring Gabe from Santa Monica to Beverly Hills, but she really liked Preethi, so she was happy to do her a favor. It was just unfortunate that said favor involved sitting in traffic with Gabe.
Anya scowled as she pulled into the entry to Gabe’s hotel.
It was gorgeous, of course. Not really Anya’s style, super obvious luxury, but undeniably beautiful.
Anya glanced at her phone, it was almost 4:15.
She wasn’t sure why she needed to be here so early; her call time at Rooney’s house wasn’t until 6:30, and she certainly hoped the drive wouldn’t take two hours.
But this was when Preethi said to show up, so here she was.
She texted Gabe that she was downstairs and waited to see him walk through the lobby doors.
Since that night at Chandelier Bar (and, more accurately, since the unbelievably condescending string of text messages he’d sent her afterward), Anya and Gabe had settled into a chilly and distant manner of coexistence, which suited Anya fine.
They spoke about work when necessary, but nothing else.
They avoided each other socially. Even Kira and Simone admitted this was the easiest things had ever been with them, and Anya very much agreed.
They could sit through one awkward car ride.
He’d probably be on his phone the whole time anyway, and when it was over, they’d be at Jeff Rooney’s house.
Jeff Rooney. Hollywood leading man, progressive activist, and one of Anya’s personal favorite movie stars, who was going to film a video for Jo, from a script that Anya wrote (based on some bland, inoffensive message frame that Gabe had insisted on, but still).
Best of all, they were filming at Rooney’s home (!!
!), where he was hosting a fundraiser for Jo filled with glitzy LA people.
Anya had fussed for days about what to wear before finally settling on a simple black sheath dress, a black cardigan with some beading details, and classic black pumps.
She wasn’t going to win any fashion awards, but a party dress didn’t make sense—she was there to work, not pal around with celebrities.
(Though she very much hoped she might get to do a bit of both; after all, they were filming the video before the fundraiser began.)
Anya looked at her phone again. It was 4:23, she’d been here nearly ten minutes already. Where the hell was Gabe?
“Hey.” He knocked on the passenger window, startling her. “Can you pop the trunk?”
Anya looked for the lever to pull, but it wasn’t beside her seat, and she didn’t see the button on the dash. She got out of the car to unlock it manually.
Which was when she saw Tallulah Del Rosario standing beside Gabe, wheeling a Louis Vuitton roller bag, wearing a baby pink yoga set and looking like she’d just stepped out of a Victoria’s Secret spread about sexy loungewear.
Anya had only ever seen Tallulah in her videos—it didn’t seem possible that she could be even more beautiful in person, and yet.
She was Filipina Australian and nearly as tall as Gabe, with a figure that was somehow both willowy and curvy.
She had wide eyes, full lips, and thick dark hair that fell halfway down her back.
Anya instinctively touched her own hair, which was in a bun, as usual.
“Oh, hi,” Anya sputtered, hating how stupid she sounded. “Um, are you coming to the fundraiser?”
Gabe peered at her. “Did Preethi not mention about LAX?”
“What about it?” Anya frowned.
“Lu has a flight at eight,” Gabe explained. “Preethi and I were going to drop her off at the airport and then grab In-N-Out on the way to Rooney’s.”
“Right.” Anya swallowed. “That makes sense.”
“Is it a problem? I can get an Uber.” Tallulah touched Gabe’s arm. Her Australian accent was absolutely adorable—of course.
“It’s fine!” Anya forced a smile. “We don’t have to be at Rooney’s for another two hours, so if I didn’t take you, we’d just be sitting here.”
Anya hit the button for the trunk on the key fob—ugh, that’s where it was—and it popped right open.
“Thanks, Anya,” Gabe said as he loaded in their luggage.
“No way!” Tallulah broke into a wide smile. “You’re the Anya?”
Anya felt suddenly nervous. “Why, what have you heard about me?”
“You’re like Gabe’s nemesis!” Tallulah laughed—this bright, happy laugh—and reached out to shake Anya’s hand. “I’m Tallulah. It’s an honor.”
“Nemesis? Not sure what I did to earn that dubious distinction.”
“Please, he’s so intimidated by you. And you’re so tiny! It’s perfect, I’m obsessed.”
“Is he really?” Anya glanced over at Gabe, who seemed very focused on loading the bags into the trunk. “You know, he did say something like that to me once. But that was years ago.”
Gabe looked up and caught Anya’s eye, but she couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t quite anger; there was something else there too. Tallulah didn’t seem to notice.
“Babe, you okay if I take the front?” she asked.
“Of course,” Gabe said warmly.
“I get carsick,” Tallulah explained to Anya. “Plus, this way us birds get to gab.”
“A travel blogger with motion sickness?” Anya smiled.
“Right?! As if being someone who takes holidays for money weren’t ridiculous enough.
” Tallulah chuckled again. It was charming, Anya had to admit, how readily she laughed, how obviously fun she was.
It was easy to see why Gabe liked her, even aside from her startling beauty.
Well, good. Like he’d said in his stupid text, she was happy, he was happy. They were both happy.
“Which terminal is it?” Anya asked Tallulah as she plugged in directions to the car’s GPS.
“I can tell you how to go. It’s like three turns from here,” Gabe said from the back seat. He sounded slightly on edge, which gave Anya a small twist of pleasure.
“I prefer to see it on the map,” Anya replied. “If that’s okay.”
“It’s Bradley terminal. I’ll put it in,” Tallulah said kindly.
Anya flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror.
Gabe was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.
He looked utterly perfect yet strategically rumpled, like he was Indiana Jones rushing back from a hidden temple to be on time for the party.
He was typing furiously on his phone, as usual.
“Beginning route to Los Angeles International Airport,” the GPS chirped, and Anya started driving.
“So, Tallulah, how did you get into travel blogging?” Anya asked.
“Oh, bit lucky really—I was early on it. I was doing a big Europe trip after uni in ’07, and my dad got me a handheld video camera, this little Sony?
My dad loves movies, total film geek, so I started filming things and uploading them to YouTube for him, my mum, my sisters.
And they’re all jerks, so any time I’d film like, Big Ben or the Eiffel Tower, they’d be like, ‘Boo, you boring tourist.’ Totally right, by the way.
” Tallulah grinned. “Anyway, I started looking for more interesting things to film, little markets and cafés, out-of-the-way places, and people started sharing the videos. Never really meant to make a career of it, but I love it. It is a bit nonstop though—be nice to have a break if I go to Maryland with Gabe.”
“Maryland?” Anya asked. “For what?”
“Nothing,” Gabe said quickly.
“Sorry, was I not meant to say?” Tallulah turned around to face Gabe. “It’s good news!”
“What’s good news?” Anya pressed.
“Just tell her!” Tallulah urged him.
Gabe sighed. “It’s not any news, yet. I have a job interview to manage Andrew Wheeler’s Senate race next cycle.”
“Wheeler?!” Anya’s jaw dropped. Wheeler was easily the worst Democrat in the Senate, a corporate lackey who’d screwed over progressives any number of times. “Seriously?”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” Gabe’s lips went thin.
“What am I missing?” Tallulah looked at Anya. “Campaign manager is a good thing, right? It’s what Gabe’s been working toward. It’s a really big deal for his career!”
“I’m sure he’ll have a ball helping the worst stooge in the Senate on his cakewalk back to Congress.” Anya’s tone was so sarcastic she hated herself a little, but she was too pissed at Gabe to care.
“That’s a lot of alliteration for anxious anchors,” Gabe quipped, and Anya gasped.
“Don’t you quote my favorite movie back at me!” Anya had picked Broadcast News when it was her turn to choose for staff movie night.
“Why does it matter, Anya?” Gabe asked. “Honestly, why do you care who I work for?”
“Because I thought you’d changed,” Anya exclaimed, her voice coming out more hurt than she’d intended. “I thought you cared what Jo thought of you because…But whatever, that was dumb of me. You’re here because she’s famous.”
“I’m here because Kira asked me to be,” Gabe insisted.