Bi-Partisan, page 12
“Well, that’s the thing,” Casey starts. “That was the plan before you got a boyfriend.”
I glance around before dropping my voice to a murmur. “A fake boyfriend,” I correct him.
“Yes, but your parents don’t know that, do they?” he points out.
I bite the inside of my cheek. He’s right. They don’t know that what I have with Jamie isn’t real. I hate that I’m lying to them, but when we discussed ground rules, we thought that the fewer people that know the truth, the better. And since my best freinds already knew, I decided my parents didn’t need to. Now, that decision seems to bite me in the ass, though, because I can already see where he is going with this.
“So we thought maybe we could make a proper party out of it and invite Jamie,” he continues.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Casey says, grinning while he nudges me with an elbow.
“It’ll just be at your apartment, so nothing fancy. Don’t worry,” Sophie adds.
Too late. Although, to be fair, I’m not worried about the location of the party as much as I am the fact that, a) there’s a party at all, and b) that I’d be introducing someone to my parents for the first time, and it’s not even a real relationship.
“You know your parents are going to ask why your boyfriend isn’t celebrating your birthday with you,” he says.
It’s times like these when I’m not always thankful for Casey’s uncanny ability to tell exactly what I’m thinking. “I’ll just tell them he had to be back in his district,” I say.
“To which they will probably wonder what kind of man their son is dating that he can’t even set aside time to celebrate his boyfriend’s birthday,” he counters.
“He’s right,” Sophie says. “Besides, we want to meet him.”
“But why?”
“He’s going to be in your life until at least December. So, are you going to invite him, or do I have to?” Casey asks.
“How would you even get in contact with him?” I ask.
“Social media. Or, it’s not like I don’t know where he works, so I could just call his office—”
“No,” I interrupt. “You will not bother Riley to invite her boss to a birthday party. I’ll do it.”
“Who’s Riley?” Sophie asks. “Is that his friend that was at the bar with him?”
“No, that was Mina, his press secretary. Riley is his office assistant. I met her when I went to his office,” I explain.
“Oh, well, you should also invite Mina,” she says. “From what you’ve said, she sounds awesome, and we could use more female energy in this friend group.”
I open my mouth to argue that I’m perfectly content with the size of our existing friend group, but the bell above the front door rings, putting an end to our conversation. I turn toward the door and smile when I see Kelly, from District Pets Rescue, the rescue I’ve been volunteering with for the last two years.
“Hey Kelly, I didn’t know you were coming in.” I look down and notice the shaggy brown dog on a leash next to her. “And who is this?”
“This is Pumpernickel,” she answers. “He’s a little skittish, but I think he’ll be a real sweetheart once he’s in a proper home. I called about half an hour ago and talked to someone named Sophie who said to come on in.”
“Oh, shoot, that’s me. Sorry Adrian,” she says with a grimace. “I took the call just as I was taking over for Carol so she could take lunch. I knew you had a gap in your schedule and meant to tell you, but then my attention got pulled elsewhere.”
She’s being purposefully vague since a patient is here, but I can guess with almost certainty that Casey is the reason for the distraction.
I give her a reassuring smile, knowing she’s probably going to beat herself up about the miscommunication. “Don’t worry about it, Soph. I have—” I glance down at my watch — “about a half an hour until my next appointment so I can fit Pumpernickel in. Did you do any intake over the phone when Kelly called?”
“Yes, I remembered to do that. I even printed it out. Hold on,” she says.
While she searches the desk for the file, I crouch down and slowly hold out a hand for Pumpernickel to approach in his own time. Kelly seemed accurate in her assessment of his skittishness because once I crouch down, he hides slightly behind her leg. But after a few seconds of sizing me up, he takes a few tentative steps toward me and sniffs my hand.
“Hey, there. That’s a good boy,” I murmur to the dog when he presses his wet nose against my knuckles. Slowly, I open my hand and scratch beneath his chin, earning a soft whine. “So where did he come from?” I ask Kelly.
“A shelter in Virginia. There was some serious overcrowding, and I think some of the other dogs were bullying him. I didn’t notice any injuries when I picked him up, but he looks a little underweight to me, so either the staff wasn’t feeding him properly or the other dogs were bullying him off the food,” she explains.
“Oh, poor baby,” Sophie says, slowly rounding the counter.
Pumpernickel’s eyes immediately dart to her, but he doesn’t hide, which is a good sign. I stand, and she approaches slowly, handing the file to me. Then she drops to a similar crouch and smiles at the dog.
A lot quicker than he warmed up to me, Pumpernickel pads over to her and rests his head on her knee.
“He seems to prefer women over men,” Kelly says.
“Hi sweet boy. Aren’t you handsome? Yes, you are,” she coos. Then she looks up at me. “Do you want me to take him back and weigh him?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”
She nods, then stands and holds her hand out to Kelly for the leash. “Come on, Pumpernickel. Let’s go on an adventure. Case, I’ll text you later. Thanks for the coffee!”
“No problem,” he says, giving her a smile that turns slightly wistful as she turns her back and heads toward one of the exam rooms.
“So, how is the operations center opening going?” I ask.
Kelly’s shoulders slump. “It’s looking like it won’t happen anytime soon. The city rejected our grant proposal.”
“But I thought it was basically a done deal.”
“So did we. The worst part is that the grants office isn’t returning our calls, so we don’t even know why the proposal was rejected.” She sighs. “And without the grant, we’d have to raise the money ourselves, which will take years.”
I frown. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Do you have an in with the DC mayor’s office?” she asks sarcastically.
“No, unfortunately I don’t,” I say with a frown.
“He is dating a congressman, though,” Casey offers with a grin.
I shoot him a narrowed look.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Kelly exclaims. “And a congressman—wait, you wouldn’t happen to be talking about that congressman from North Carolina, would you? Oh, shoot, what’s his name? I was just reading the interview he did with District Buzz.”
“Jamie Montgomery,” I supply. Then, before she even has the chance to bring up the photos or anything else about our news scandal, I continue on. “I’m not sure how much help he’ll be with DC funding, but perhaps he knows someone who could help.”
Kelly sighs in relief. “Honestly, even if he just knows someone who knows someone, that would be an enormous help. Otherwise, I’m afraid this intake center will never get off the ground.”
“I’ll ask him,” I promise.
“Thank you,” she says sincerely, then she looks at her watch. “Okay, well, unfortunately, I have to run to meet up with the fosters taking Pumpernickel. Will you be able to hold him until I can come back with them?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Great, thank you!” She gives me a wave, then quickly turns and rushes out the door.
Once she’s gone, I glare at Casey.
He simply grins and takes a sip of his sugar coma beverage. “What? Jamie said that he owes you a favor. Oh, and now you can kill two birds with one stone—ask for his help with the rescue intake center and invite him to your birthday.”
“Okay, you know what? I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go back to work,” I say as I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Yeah, I probably should, too,” he says, pushing off the counter. “Enjoy your coffee.”
“Thanks,” I grumble. With Pumpernickel’s file tucked under my arm, I grab the coffee off the counter, then reach around to grab Sophie’s, too, so I can put it in the fridge for her. Once I’m in the break room, I take a moment to drain the last of my coffee, then pull my phone out of my scrub pocket to draft a quick text to Jamie before heading to the exam room to look at Pumpernickel.
Chapter 13
Jamie
Song: Stay With Me – Sam Smith
When I get through my apartment door, I drop my keys on the dining room table and throw my coat over the back of a chair. I glance at the couch, the heavily worn but comfortable cushions calling my name after being in a train seat for most of the day. But I know if I sit down, I probably won’t get up again, and I still have things to do. After my conversation with Adrian last night, I realized that I have been doing a terrible job of taking care of myself. Mina’s been telling me that for the past month, but the assessment hits a little differently coming from a person who barely knows me. If Adrian noticed, then it must be bad. So I need a reset, starting with getting my messy apartment under control.
But first, I should probably check in with him. I got a text from him earlier while I was on the train, but Ben, Mina, and I were deep in a strategy session, so I didn’t have time to see what it was about. I dig through my laptop bag to find my personal phone, then grab my suitcase and head back toward my bedroom as I open my messages.
Adrian Wilks
Mar 16, 10:53 AM
Hey so I remember you said that if there was anything you could do for me in return for helping you all I had to do was ask. Is that offer still on the table?
I let go of the suitcase handle and leave it in the middle of the room to respond.
Mar 16, 6:40 PM
Hey sorry I was on the train almost all day today and haven’t had a lot of time to check my personal phone.
Of course the offer is still on the table. What do you need?
Actually can I call?
Yeah, sure
After dialing, I wedge the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can lug my suitcase onto the bed. The line rings three times before he picks up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, darlin’,” I say, letting the pet name roll off my tongue because I can’t help myself. I know it affects him, even if I’m not there to see it. It makes me feel better about the fact that the moment I hear his voice, it’s like a slight weight lifts off my chest. I’m beginning to think he possesses some sort of magic because every time I’ve either seen or talked to him since That Night, as I’ve come to think of it, my reaction has basically been the same. Maybe six weeks worth of video and phone calls aren’t enough of a sample size to draw a conclusion off of, but it’s not like this is a science experiment. Besides, I’m not even going to pretend that I was any good at science, even if it was one. But even when he texts me, I can’t help smiling a little, so I think it’s a pretty good theory.
Well, it’s a solid theory. I’m not sure whether my fake boyfriend having this kind of effect on me is a good thing. It probably means I’m getting too attached, but I can’t help it. My mom has always said I have a big heart. I’ve always made friends quickly, fallen in love a little too easily, which is why I’ve never been a one-night-stand person. But it’ll be fine. Probably.
As I predicted, he’s silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. “How was the train?”
“Long and exhausting,” I say with a heavy sigh. “Travel days always feel that way, especially when I take the train instead of driving. But since Ben, Mina, and I had to come back to DC on a weekday, we opted to take the train so we could do some work, and the day wouldn’t be a waste.”
“Wait, did you just say driving was less exhausting than taking the train?” he asks.
I chuckle. “Yeah, that probably sounds backwards. But I love driving. It calms me. Anytime I’m behind the wheel, it forces me to take a break from the constant multi-tasking and hustling that my life normally consists of now.”
“I am the complete opposite. Driving stresses me out to no end. That’s partially why I moved back to DC after vet school—so I could get rid of my car.”
“Wait, you don’t have a car?” I ask as I unpack my suitcase and sort my clothes because the first task on my life reset is laundry—which I admit I haven’t properly done in well over two months.
“God, no,” he says, sounding almost flabbergasted. “Do you know how difficult parking is in this city? Well, I guess you do, since you have a car. But there’s also the almost predatory speed and red light cameras.”
“Predatory?” I ask, trying to cover my laugh.
“Yes, the streets here are basically designed so that unless you have the streets perfectly memorized, it’s almost impossible to get anywhere without getting some sort of ticket. Whether it’s for speeding because they speed limit changed but the sign was in a completely inconvenient spot, or accidentally running a red light because you can’t tell which fucking intersection the light is actually for.”
This time I can’t help the laugh that escapes.
“You’re laughing at me,” he deadpans, although there’s a hint of vulnerability behind it.
“No,” I say quickly, then amend it. “Okay, a little, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you rant about anything before, or curse, for that matter. You’re cute when you’re all worked up.”
“Oh,” he says.
And if I’m not mistaken, he sounds a little pleased, so I decide to push my luck. “Although, I think you’re cute most of the time, if I’m being honest.”
There’s a brief pause, then his voice comes out, almost like a warning. “Jamie—”
Okay, yeah, maybe that was too much. “Anyway, you said you had a favor for me?”
“Yeah.” Another pause. “So, there’s an animal rescue that I volunteer with—District Pets.”
Of course he volunteers with an animal rescue—because he couldn’t just be hot and smart. He has to have a heart of gold, too. I’m fake dating a damn Disney prince. To be fair, that was probably already evident by him agreeing to help me get through this scandal when he hardly knows me, but this just takes the cake.
“I adopted Joseph and Molly through them,” he continues. “They rescue animals from unfit homes and either overcrowded or high-kill shelters all over the DC, Maryland, and Virginia area, and sometimes even into West Virginia and North Carolina. They’re a non-profit and run almost exclusively on donations and through volunteers.”
“Like you,” I say as I gather the pile of dirty clothes I don’t need to have dry-cleaned and carry them into the hall where my laundry closet is. “What do you do for them? I assume you’re not a foster since you have two cats of your own.”
“No, I’m not. I know myself, and I would never have the heart to give a cat up once I bonded with them.” He chuckles.
A soft smile creeps onto my face. Yup, Disney prince. God, I think I’m fucked.
“I originally applied to volunteer as a record and invoice admin, but when they realized I’m a vet, we struck up a different deal where any foster families in the area can come to the clinic, and I would take on the responsibility of inputting the visit summary, invoices, and test results into the rescue’s system.”
“Is it hard seeing the animals when they’ve first been rescued?” I ask tentatively. It has nothing to do with the favor he has to ask me, but he’s being more forthcoming than usual and I’ll be damned if I’m not going take advantage of that and try to get him to open up to me a little more. “I imagine some of them might be in bad shape depending on where they came from.”
He hums. “Sometimes, but it’s also really fulfilling being able to help them. Usually I have Sophie assist me. She has this way of calming animals—if I believed in magic, that’s what I’d call it.”
“Well, you said she’s into crystals and stuff, right? So maybe it is magic,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says.
“So, what favor do you need for the shelter?” I ask when he falls silent.
“Well, the thing is, I’m not really sure if you even can help, but I said I’d ask just in case. So, the rescue has been trying to establish an intake and processing center—somewhere we can temporarily keep animals when we’ve picked them up, fosters can pick up new pets, and potential adopters can do a meet and greet with animals. We’ve been trying to raise money, but most of the donations we get go toward the animals. There was this grant with the city we were trying to get, but it got denied, so it looks like it might never happen.
“Like I said, I’m not sure if you can really do anything seeing as it’s not your district, but I was hoping you might know someone who could help. Maybe someone with the city. Or someone who knows someone with the city. Or even if there’s maybe some federal grant we could apply for. But if not, I understand.”
He says it all in a rush, and I can tell he’s nervous about asking—not that he has any reason to be. I told him I’d do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t violate the congressional code of ethics. When I offered it, I’d expected something a little more self-serving, like a tour of the White House, even though technically that would have to go through his own representative. His nervousness is endearing on its own, but him using his favor to do something completely selfless has my heart clenching.
