Parties in Congress (22 page)

B,

You look beautiful tonight—breathtaking, really. So forgive my reckless impatience, but I’d love nothing more than to have dinner with you. If you’re busy, or if, unlike me, you have your wits about you, just tear this up. Believe me, I’ll more than understand.

But if you’re either hungry, craving a diversion, looking for company, feeling gutsy, or any combination of the above, call me on my cell phone at the number below.

Spyxie

P.S. Did I mention how beautiful you look?

Bijal stared at the phone number before reading the note again. If she’d been chilled by the night air before she’d picked this up, she felt no sign of it now. She folded the paper and got in the car and shut the door.

She read it a third time before setting it in the passenger seat. Should she call? Everything inside her wanted to. Everything except the tiny sliver of her brain that handled propriety and conflicts of interest, that is. And that part was rapidly coming around as well.

“Well, just because I call her doesn’t mean I’ll actually
meet
her,” she said, hoping that hearing the words out loud would make them more credible.

She picked up the note, before setting it back down again and putting her key in the ignition. She had nearly turned the engine over before she snatched the note and her phone and rapidly dialed the number. Sometimes she hated her lack of willpower.

“Hello?” Colleen’s voice sounded warm and alluring.

“Um…hi. It’s Bijal.”

“You called.”

Bijal was starting to feel foolish. “I did, yes.”

“Sorry, I tend to state the obvious when I’m nervous. I’d already convinced myself that you weren’t going to.”

“Did you say you’re nervous?”

“Maybe a little.”

“About what?” Bijal asked.

“About approaching you—asking you out while we’re still in the middle of this…”

“Steaming bucket of feces?”

Colleen laughed. “You’re such a smooth talker. I suppose I should be congratulating you.”

“For what?”

“For your victory tonight. I heard your new campaign manager declaring to reporters that y’all won.”

Bijal sighed in exasperation. “Do you have no mercy? I was just starting to forget about all that.”

“Were you?”

“Well, yeah. See, I got this note from an incredibly hot woman who told me I was beautiful.”

“Twice,” Colleen added.

“And even though I know that I shouldn’t be socializing with her, I can’t get past the fact that I really want to see her.”

“That’s mutual. I’ve missed having you tail me.”

Bijal was giddy at the admission. “So meet me at the K and K.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea now that I’ve been on both national and local television. If someone were to recognize me, we’d have a real problem.”

“Then doesn’t that kind of rule out going somewhere for dinner?”

Colleen mumbled something unintelligible. “I have an idea if you’re game. Do you like sushi?”

“I love it, and I haven’t had it in months.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking your body could probably use a meal that’s not fried. I’m on my way to pick up Callisto right now.”

Bijal wasn’t really sure where this was going. “Where is she?”

“With Hepburn.”

“I thought Hepburn was dead.”

Colleen chucked softly. “Katharine is, sadly. Hepburn is a husky mix that lives down the road from me. When I work long hours my retired neighbor is good enough to take Callisto to her place to play with Hepburn.”

“A nice arrangement.”

“Definitely. So what I’m proposing is this. Are you still at the college?”

“You mean the scene of the crime? Yes.”

“Good. There’s a great sushi place not too far from you. I’ll call ahead and order take-out, and I’ll pay over the phone. They know me there. I’m a regular. You stop by and pick it up, then meet me at my place for dinner.”

“At your house?”

“Is that too forward of me? I just thought we’d have a little more privacy. But if you feel like it’s crossing a line—”

“No, it’s fine,” Bijal said.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel coerced or anything.”

“I won’t, as long as we agree to keep things nonsexual.”

After a pause, Colleen replied. “Well, I can certainly agree to do my best.”

“That sounds a little noncommittal.”

“It does, doesn’t it? My head has no problem consenting to that arrangement, but I keep picturing you in that snug tweed suit and I start to experience conflict. You didn’t change out of it, did you?”

“No.” Bijal felt the blush that must have been spreading across her neck and cheeks.

“Outstanding. Look, we’ll compromise. You wear that suit, and you have my word that I’ll only ogle you from afar.”

“That sounds agreeable.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Do you like spicy tuna?”

“Even more than I like spicy shrimp,” Bijal replied blithely.

“Then you’ll love this place. If you’ve got a pen, I’ll give you directions from where you are.”

“Hang on.” For a moment Bijal nearly flipped Colleen’s note over to write on it, but didn’t want to ruin it. In her glove compartment she found a beige Taco Rojo napkin and a pen. “Okay, fire away.”

Colleen stared at her reflection. She undid the second button on her blouse and then reassessed. “Hmm…too much?” Did it say rosy-breasted maiden? Or scab-ridden whore?

She scowled and suddenly felt ridiculous. What the hell was wrong with her? She was acting like a silly schoolgirl. Next she’d start doodling Bijal’s name on her notebook in cursive and writing gothic poetry about unrequited love and the agony of getting her period on prom night.

Callisto started clawing at the back storm door, so Colleen hurried to let her in, glancing at her watch. Based on how busy Sunomono was, Bijal could arrive any moment. And the more time that elapsed after they had agreed to meet at her house, the more uneasy Colleen was becoming. Was this a horrible mistake? Her conscience was certainly telling her that it was.

As Colleen let the dog in, she noticed the dark smears Callisto was leaving on the kitchen floor.

“What the hell?” Colleen knelt down quickly to verify the nature of the filth. “Callisto, what
is
this?” A cursory sniff confirmed that it was fresh mud—only a minor relief.

The dog shook violently, sending speckles of sludge everywhere. Colleen grabbed her by the collar in an all-too-late attempt to minimize the defilement. Callisto had dirt all over her, particularly her muzzle and paws. “Girl, what did you
do
?”

Callisto, clearly startled by Colleen’s outburst, dropped what she had in her mouth—what appeared to be an old bone from possibly the Mesozoic era—and now looked suitably contrite.

“You dug this shit up
now
? You couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

Callisto tilted her head slightly to the left, which was all Colleen needed to forgive her utterly and immediately. “Why?” Colleen asked plaintively as she stood. “Don’t you move a muscle, sister.”

Colleen headed to the linen closet to get one of her least favorite towels to start scrubbing the filth both off the animal and the floor. She checked quickly over her shoulder that Callisto was still waiting patiently and not spitefully dragging her ass across the kitchen for good measure.

She was sitting, as good as gold. Or, perhaps more accurately, as good as grimy muck-caked gold that smelled strongly of mildew, grass, and, quite possibly, a freshly dead body.

Colleen returned with a towel and began the Herculean task of cleaning Callisto’s fur. “Is this some clever ploy on your part so you don’t have to share my attention? Is that it?” Colleen brushed her hair out of her eyes as she continued wiping goo off Callisto’s chest and stomach. “You
know
I don’t have time to give you a bath. That’s why you look so goddamn pleased with yourself, isn’t it?”

Callisto picked that moment to lick the side of Colleen’s face, undoubtedly based on her proximity. “Sure, suck up now.”

The doorbell rang, and both Colleen and Callisto froze.

“Shit,” Colleen hissed.

A quick examination of things confirmed her worst fear—the kitchen looked like a crime scene in brown. She gazed at Callisto and took a deep breath. “I’ll just explain to her that I don’t usually live with a layer of silt and clay in my house, and that it’s all your fault.”

Reasonably confident that the dog had no remaining mud on the pads of her paws for the smearing, Colleen flung the dirty towel into the laundry room and ran to the front hall. When she swung the door open, the sight of Bijal holding a large take-out bag instantly conjured butterflies in her stomach. “Hi.”

Bijal smiled broadly. “Hi.”

“Come on in,” Colleen said, holding the door open.

“You ordered what feels like thirty pounds of sushi,” Bijal remarked as she stepped inside. God, she smelled incredible.

“I ordered a variety. Thanks for picking it up.”

They stood for a moment in the foyer, staring at each other.

Bijal squinted. “Um, you have a little something on your cheek.” She pointed to her own face sympathetically.

Colleen approached the hall mirror and was mortified to see two separate streaks of mud on her face, one on her forehead and the other across her left cheek. It was as though she was moonlighting as a Jackson Pollock canvas. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Without even trying to wipe it off, Colleen sighed and turned, taking the food from Bijal. “Come on in. We might as well get this over with.”

“O…kay,” Bijal replied, her trepidation apparent.

Colleen led her into the kitchen, where the floor, walls, and cabinets were spattered with crud. “Here it is,” Colleen said in defeat. “I was hoping to get this cleaned up before you got here. It’s Callisto’s handiwork.”

Bijal gawked as she took it all in. “Is it…poo?”

“Oh, God, no! It’s just dirt! She was out digging in the yard,” Colleen blurted. “She came in covered with mud, and she shook.” She realized she was gesticulating like an insane person, so she folded her hands in front of her and took a deep breath.

The corner of Bijal’s mouth crept upward slowly. “Can we put the food in the fridge real quick?”

“Sure,” Colleen replied, taking the bag of food and stuffing it into the refrigerator.

“Okay, where’re your cleaning supplies?”

“Under the sink. But you can’t clean. You’re a guest.”

Bijal walked over to the sink and tore a paper towel off the roll, then dampened it under the faucet. “Uh-huh, come here.”

Colleen stepped toward her, and Bijal began to wipe the grime off her face. “Thanks for not just spitting on a tissue,” Colleen said, humiliated.

Bijal’s face was dangerously close to Colleen’s, and she looked especially amused. “That would be moving our relationship into a disturbing new stage, I think.”

“The tell-mama-all phase?”

“And without stopping at the really good phases that most people hit on the way to that one, yeah.”

Colleen swallowed loudly. “And cleaning my house doesn’t put us in roughly the same place?”

“Don’t get too excited. I’m not grouting your shower or anything,” Bijal said, throwing the paper towel in the trash can. “I was just going to help you tidy some of this up.”

“Thanks,” Colleen said softly.

“What can I use on the floor?”

Colleen retrieved a mop and ran it under the tap before handing it over. She then got herself a damp sponge to start scrubbing the wall.

Bijal pushed the mop in long strokes, until she unintentionally bumped a dirt-encrusted bone with the mop head, sending it skidding to the other side of the room. Bijal warily scrutinized it. “Is this the cause of all this mess?”

Colleen nodded, picking the offending item up. “So it would seem. I think it’s from a velociraptor.” She took the bone over to the sink to give it a thorough rinse, while Callisto watched in interest. After a cursory blot with a paper towel, Colleen handed the bone back to the dog, who trotted away with it merrily. “Bitch.”

“Yeah, I think that’s where the word originated, actually.”

“Good point,” Colleen said, letting her gaze linger on Bijal’s hips as she continued to mop. They swayed to and fro in a hypnotic way. “So, would it be completely skeevy if I took this opportunity to tell you about my hot-cleaning-woman-in-a-business-suit fantasy?”

Bijal stopped moving completely. “Well, if not skeevy, it would certainly seem calculated. You know, like you planned this.”

“Oh…well, I won’t tell you about it, then.” Colleen went back to cleaning the wall.

“Interesting logic.”

“It works in Congress. Can’t we just strike it from the record?”

“That depends,” Bijal said. “Can we strike tonight’s debate too and just say it never happened?”