Parties in Congress (33 page)

Bijal held up the shopping bag she was holding. “Um, I lost a button.”

“That must be one massively critical button.”

“Or maybe it was six or seven,” Bijal added hastily, tossing the bag onto the floor. “But it turns out that riding the Metro without any buttons is largely frowned upon. The only ones who support it are the chronic masturbators and the pants-shitters.”

Fran crossed her arms and studied her for a moment. “If this was
Law and Order: SVU
, you know what I’d already know about you?”

“What?”

“That you went over to that woman’s house last night and fucked her until your bits were sore. Though, admittedly, if this were
SVU
, then you’d have killed her in a creepy way, like using a strap-on made of dynamite.”

None of this was making sense to Bijal. “Wouldn’t an exploding strap-on have killed me too?” She rubbed her eyes in fatigue.

“You think I didn’t think of that? It was a murder/suicide, you sick bitch. I told you to get help.” Fran walked into the kitchen and grabbed some bottled water out of the fridge.

“Sometimes I think you’re completely insane,” Bijal replied, sagging into the sofa.

“I’m right about that first part, though, aren’t I? Are your bits sore?”

“Maybe a little, but that’s not why I went over there, Fran.”

Fran took a long sip of water. “Of course not. I’m sure you just popped by to talk to her about why you two shouldn’t be talking.”

“Well…”

Fran sat beside Bijal and raised an eyebrow. “You jumped her, didn’t you?”

“Like she was a goddamn hurdle, yeah. It was incredible.”

“Did you get her out of your system?”

Bijal grinned wickedly. “No, but I sure tried like hell.”

Fran appeared unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”

“Over and over,” Bijal said. “And let me tell you, pretty speeches aren’t the only thing that mouth of hers is good for.”

“Jesus! You’ve finally snapped, Bij—like a dry piece of kindling. I knew you were stressed out and overworked, but I wasn’t prepared for your foray into the Congressional Penthouse Forum.”

“Sorry, I’m sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah, so I hear. Can I just ask a quick question?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bijal sat back and got comfortable. For Fran, a twenty-minute rebuttal often accompanied her quick questions.

“What the fuck do you intend to do now?”

Bijal shook her head. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit about that, actually, and you know what? I can do this, Fran. I can
totally
do this.”

“Do what?”

“I can do my job well and date Colleen at the same time.”

Fran was clearly skeptical. “You think so?”

“Well…yeah, I do. I’ve been agonizing over this for weeks, and now I realize I don’t
have
to choose. I haven’t shared any proprietary secrets. I came out to Janet at work. She knows how I feel about that anti-gay ad, as well as a host of other things I disagree with.”

“Does she also know you’re riding her opponent like a merry-go-round?”

Bijal tapped her forehead lightly in frustration. “A merry-go-round! That’s so much better than a parade float!”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Look, the point is that I took a stand with Janet and came clean with her. If she thinks I might compromise the campaign, then let her fire me.”

“Wow,” Fran said. “That must be some amazing pussy.”

“Oh, my God, it is. But it’s more than that. I mean, Colleen’s smart, principled, funny, and sexy. I think I…love her.”

“What?”

“I know! I haven’t even said those words out loud since the tenth grade—to Tim Crudup. Trust me when I say that the phrase ‘ended badly’ is a monumental understatement.”

“Was he the one who ditched you at lover’s lane and left you to walk home with only some of your clothes on?”

“Unfortunately. At any rate, this relationship feels right to me. I’m so—”

“Happy?” Fran suggested.

“Well, yeah.” Bijal marveled at how unexpected it felt.

“You know, I’ve given you a lot of shit over this, Bij, because I care about you and I worry. And maybe I was a tiny bit jealous that you selfishly nabbed the hottest piece of liberal ass in town, when you could have stayed on your own side and chosen someone from the pool of smokin’ conservatives…hmm, scratch that.”

Bijal laughed. “You’re such a partisan bitch.”

“Anyway, let me say that I’m really glad for you. I kinda like this new bright-eyed, blissful Bijal.”

“Aw, thanks,” Bijal cooed, giving Fran a hug.

Fran rubbed Bijal’s back before releasing her. “So, you’re gonna give some details about last night, right?”

“I have one word for you—multiorgasmic.”

Bijal went over the raw polling data one more time. She couldn’t see any positive way to spin these numbers, and less than a month out from the election, they painted a very bleak picture.

In looking at likely voters, without factoring in political-party affiliations, Colleen was pulling 52 percent of the vote to Janet’s 29 percent, with 8 percent for Phillip Taylor and 11 percent still undecided. So even if Janet somehow secured
all
the undecided voters, she still didn’t have enough to win. Breaking it down further into partisan groups, according to these numbers, Colleen had the support of 88 percent of district Democrats, 64 percent of Independents, and 32 percent of Republicans.

Looking at the voter comments, she couldn’t deny that Colleen’s trip to Afghanistan had positively influenced her polling numbers. Many viewed just her presence in a volatile war zone as brave and admirable. Others saw her open exposure of the malfeasance and hypocrisy of a member of her own party as a sign of personal integrity, though a small number of Democrats criticized her for what they viewed as sabotaging the party’s chances of holding that seat in November.

For his part, Harlan Zeller had been spending the last week making speeches—insisting, at first, with his wife by his side, that his relationship with Ms. Staines had been “maliciously misrepresented” by those who, in his opinion, “by the nature of their own ungodly lifestyle, had an axe to grind with those openly in favor of the superiority of traditional families.”

Thankfully, the media had smelled enough blood in the water that they’d been encouraged to investigate. So when, less than twenty-four hours later, they discovered Cha Cha Staines was not only currently an employee of a DC strip club called Lickety Split’s, but was a headliner known for her participation in a three-woman dildo dance/performance known to regulars as the Red Rocket Rump Spectacular, Zeller walked back his accusations of moral authority and tearfully declared to the press that he’d “strayed from the path of Jesus.”

However, it was only when his wife called a separate press conference to announce that she was leaving Zeller and taking their two children with her because she couldn’t “look at his fat, lying, scheming, perverted face one more day” that Zeller resigned from office. Of course, his very public combustion had only boosted Colleen’s numbers further—the cherry on top, if you like.

Bijal’s cell phone vibrated beside her, startling her as she examined the text message she’d just received from Colleen.

Good news—the Saturday Amendment is officially dead. The bill just passed the House without it. :-D

Bijal felt genuine pride for Colleen’s success, and she admired the way Colleen had used her resources and noggin to show her party leaders that she was no ideological pushover. She said what she stood for, and she stood for what she said.

Congratulations, honey! Does this mean we’ll be celebrating tonight? ’Cause I’d love to see you if you’re not spending tonight schmoozing and fund-raising.

Bijal pressed Send and held the phone while she waited for a response. She had to admit that the last week or so had been more emotionally and sexually fulfilling than she had been prepared for—and certainly far more intense than any relationship she’d had in some time.

It was a bit maddening, really. She got butterflies in her stomach when the phone rang, the instant they were reunited, when Colleen would say her name…or when she saw a car that looked like hers. She sighed, feeling suddenly ridiculous. Was this what all those ’80s power ballads were about? Was this love? Could she take Colleen high enough? Did every rose really have its thorn?

Her hand vibrated.

I’d love to celebrate with you. I only have one obligation until tomorrow. I’ll be on Tank Guzman tonight talking about the passage of the bill, but I’d definitely rather be on you.

Bijal hurriedly tapped out a reply.

That makes two of us. Tell me what time to meet you, and I’ll make sure I wear something with snaps. ;-)

“Hey, Bijal. How’s it going?”

Bijal turned to see Kristin beside her, looking tired but affable. Bijal set down her phone in a manner that she hoped reeked of nonchalance. “Well, I’m doing fine. But these numbers totally suck.”

Kristin scowled, making the bridge of her nose crinkle. “I was afraid of that.”

“Yeah, at this point, based on this data, I’d say that Colleen O’Bannon could be caught conspiring with terrorists to eat orphans and we still couldn’t pull within the margin of error.”

“Yikes! I mean, I knew it was bad, but I’ve still been holding out hope, you know?”

“I know, trust me. But it’s starting to seem insurmountable. Have you heard about the problems fund-raising?”

Kristin shook her head and sat on the edge of Bijal’s desk. “With Janet out making appearances all this week, I haven’t heard much about anything.”

“Let’s just say that the well is running dry.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t get me wrong, we still have some wealthy contributors who’re inspired to give even more because they see us struggling. But most folks are hesitant to bet on the horse bringing up the rear. It’s caused some challenges.”

“I did notice that we didn’t start back in with our ads like I thought we would after O’Bannon returned to the States. Is that a problem with funds, do you think?”

“Possibly, but I can’t say I’m sad to see that horrible commercial go.” Bijal’s phone vibrated alive again, and though common sense told her to ignore it, the giddy feeling that began in her chest and disappeared somewhere in her pants made that feat utterly impossible. She glanced at it quickly, trying to feign an air of quiet dispassion.

You and your snaps should be at my place at 9. Bring some champagne, and if you want a couple hours of my undivided attention, a marrow bone. More instructions to follow.

Bijal chuckled softly before remembering that Kristin was watching her. She fought to wipe any trace of amusement from her face as she slid the phone into her bag.

“So, you never did end up telling me about your date last week. Is that still going on?”

Well, so much for nonchalance. Clearly Bijal looked just as goofy on the outside as she felt on the inside. “Yeah, it’s still going on.”

Kristin’s tone took on the quality of a gossipy teen. “Is it hot and heavy?”

“Yeah, actually, it is.”

“What are you waiting for, then? Tell me all about it.”

“What do you want to know about her?” Bijal waited, watching Kristin’s expression change as she fully realized the weight of the chosen pronoun.

“Her? As in, your hot and heavy dates are with another woman?”

Bijal nodded, trying to gauge what was coming next. Somehow, this never really got easier. “That’s what I mean.”

“Wow,” Kristin said, seeming floored.

“And what does ‘wow’ mean exactly?”

“Um, just that…I’m surprised. I didn’t realize you’re—” Kristin looked around them conspiratorially. “Gay,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry, I’m totally oblivious, I guess. I just don’t know any gay people,” Kristin explained nervously.

Bijal stared at her for a moment. “Well, you know me.”

“Sure, I do,” Kristin replied, just a little bit too enthusiastically. “I mean I just didn’t pick up the signs.”

“Signs?”

Kristin nodded rapidly, obviously ill at ease with this topic. “My bad.”

“Well, it was probably my fault. Next time I’ll make sure I’m wearing flannel, sporting a mullet, blaring Melissa Etheridge music, and packing my strap-on underneath my tweed skirt. Are those the kinds of signs you’re looking for?”

Kristin’s eyes were wide and her pupils constricted. Distress was written all over her face as Bijal waited for a response.

Janet entered the office through the front door, walking to the center of the room and clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Excuse me, hello. If everybody could please give me just a moment.”

All activity ceased, and several dozen campaign workers hung on Janet’s next words expectantly.

Janet cleared her throat, then took a deep breath. “Thank you. I have a few announcements to make, and I want you all to hear everything at the same time—no multiple versions, no rumors. First, as of today, Eliot Jenkins is no longer affiliated with this campaign. He and I just had too many differences of opinion when it came to how this camp should operate, and, honestly, I let him have his way far too many times. Well, not that he had his
way
, but you know what I mean.” Janet looked directly at Bijal. “I let him dictate things that deliberately contradicted my stated values and positions, and that was a mistake—hopefully, my last, at least when it comes to this race.”