Parties in Congress (8 page)

“Okay,” Bijal said with a shrug. Why did the thought of Colleen and Sue together bother her so much? Was she stupid enough to want a little fling with her opponent? As she watched Colleen open the bottles and pour three small shots for Sue and three for her, with eyes strikingly green and hands strong and capable-looking, Bijal decided that yes, she was indeed that stupid—perhaps even more so.

“All right, ladies,” Colleen said. “Before we start, there are three aspects of tasting to consider. The first is the nose, or aroma of the liquor. Before it ever hits your lips, don’t just sniff it for the overall scent. Rather, close your eyes and try to pick out different fragrances. You might smell things like different spices, herbs, or fruits.”

Bijal and Sue each reached for the glass on her far left and brought it near enough to investigate its scent.

“Shit!” Sue coughed. “I think I burned my nostrils!”

Colleen chuckled. “Don’t inhale it, Sue. Just breathe in.”

“I smell petroleum,” Bijal said. “And asphalt,” she added before setting it down.

“Hmm,” Colleen murmured. “Okay. So the next thing is the palate, which is what you get when you initially take a sip. After that, you get the finish—the flavor that comes after you’ve swallowed, like a second, smaller taste. Go ahead and take small sips of the one you’ve smelled.”

They both drank and paused before Sue said, “Varnish with sort of an old tube-sock finish.”

Bijal slammed her empty shot glass on the bar dramatically. “I second the varnish, but to me, the finish was more like airplane glue.”

“Nice,” Colleen said. “That was your trusty well liquor, Sue.”

“Oh.”

“Now try the glass in the middle. That’s Arc of Orion’s Single Barrel Ten-Year-Old Bourbon.”

As they had before, Sue and Bijal closed their eyes and inhaled. But Colleen had been right that this was a far more complex smell.

“Um, caramel?” Bijal asked.

“Very good,” Colleen replied. “What else do you smell?”

“There’s kind of a fruity scent,” Sue added.

Colleen nodded. “Yup, some say apricot. You may also get leather and spice.”

“Yeah, I get the spice,” Bijal said. “Can we taste?” Colleen nodded, so they both sampled the bourbon. The disparity from the last glass of swill went well beyond the nose, that was certain. “Wow, I got sort of a nutmeg and wood flavor.”

“That’s the oak casks it’s aged in,” Colleen said.

“Yeah, exactly,” Sue said. “And a finish that was like a sort of vanilla heat.”

“Right,” Bijal said excitedly.

Colleen appeared pleased with their responses. “The last one is our small batch reserve. We call it Betelgeuse.”

“After that weird movie with Michael Keaton?” Sue asked, breathing in her final sample.

Bijal laughed, perhaps louder than she should have. “It’s probably named after the
star
Betelgeuse, which, if memory serves, is in the constellation Orion, right?”

“Correct,” Colleen replied. “You get bonus points.”

“Wait,” Sue said mockingly. “Don’t I get any points for knowing the movie starred Michael Keaton?”

“Only if you can somehow tie it in with bourbon or some other whiskey product,” Colleen said with a cocked eyebrow.

Sue stopped and thought for a second. “Well, that movie made me want to drink,” she explained weakly.

Colleen and Bijal looked at each other and laughed. “Sorry,” Colleen said. “Nice try, though. So what do you get on the nose of this one?”

“I get apple and vanilla,” Bijal said.

“Totally,” Sue said. “But oaky.”

“You guys are getting really good at this.”

After tasting the final whiskey, Bijal found she liked this one the best by far. “Ooh, there’s clove.”

“And something kind of sweet,” Sue said. “Like molasses or honey.”

Bijal nodded. “And the finish is like a toasted…nutty flavor.” She finished it off. “This stuff kicks ass.”

“So am I hearing that you’ll carry more top-shelf brands?” Colleen asked.

“All right, all right.” Sue sighed. “I’ll carry your snobby, highbrow, artsy-ass booze.”

“Good,” Bijal replied. “Then can I have some more of the Winona Ryder reserve?” She extended her glass, and Colleen filled it generously.

Sue cleared away the remaining empty glasses. “So, Bijal, do you work on Capitol Hill?”

“No, I’m a campaign worker.”

“Yeah? Whose campaign? Anyone I might know?”

Bijal noticed that Colleen was now fiddling with her cell phone, blatantly disengaged from the conversation. “Mayor Denton,” she replied softly.

Sue moved closer. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Mayor Denton.”

Sue immediately fell into hysterics. “Shut your cheeky muffin hole!”

“I should go,” Bijal said, feeling instantly self-conscious again. She slammed back her whiskey and set the glass on the bar.

Colleen set her hand on top of Bijal’s before she could push away from the bar. “I’m not here to chase you out, so how about this? Let’s just not talk about anything remotely strategic—nothing about the campaign that could even be interpreted as sensitive.”

“Okay,” Bijal replied skeptically.

“And if one of us says something unintentionally, the other will politely stop the conversation and disregard whatever it was.”

“You think we can do that?”

Colleen smiled. “Well, if not, I’ll have to stop talking to you. And, so far, I was kind of having fun.”

“I suppose I’m willing to try if you are.”

Sue was still softly chuckling to herself. “This is going to be awesome,” she said before crossing to the other side of the bar to take someone’s order.

“So, may I?” Bijal asked, pointing to her empty glass.

“Certainly.” Colleen pushed the bottle over to her. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Bijal filled the shot glass again. “If I get to ask you one too.”

“That’s fair, I suppose. Are you out at work?”

“That depends on if you’re one of those gays who thinks it’s her duty to out everyone.”

Colleen shook her head. “Nope, this is all off the record.”

“As in, do they know that while my candidate’s husband is spewing hate speech about gays, I’m secretly hoping he’s struck by lightning? I don’t think they have a fucking clue.”

“That must be really challenging.”

“It is, in a way,” Bijal said. “But I’m not defined solely by my sexuality, just like I’m not defined by being a woman, or Indian, or a Capricorn.”

“Good point.”

“You know, I’ve never agreed with any candidate on a hundred percent of the issues.”

Colleen sipped her drink. “But isn’t equal rights a pretty major issue to compromise on?”

“
All
issues are important. I can’t cherry-pick. And it can’t be much easier for you. Being out in Washington makes you a very conspicuous target.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t have done it another way. I refused to run for office while trying to keep it a secret.”

“Too many people already knew?”

Colleen’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Well, that, but, more importantly, I would have been sending a message that I was ashamed of who I am. And I’m not. My entire campaign message was that no one deserves to be marginalized.”

Bijal watched Colleen’s middle finger as it lazily traced the rim of her glass. “So do I get my personal question now?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Sue…wait…let me reword that.”

“Just so you know, I’m not a genie. It doesn’t need to be worded in a precise way or something horrific will happen to you.”

Bijal thought back to Fran’s earlier question for the congress-woman. “Are you single?”

Colleen smiled as she held eye contact with Bijal. “I am, as a matter of fact. Sue and I are just old friends. We went to high school together.”

“That’s nice,” Bijal replied, the relief that this fascinating and sexy woman was unattached warring internally with her common sense.

“It is, yeah. She’s done a lot to organize the statewide LGBT community not to just be more politically active, but to work on both my campaigns. They’ve been very supportive, and their involvement has proved invaluable.”

“So, do you date?” Bijal asked, feeling emboldened by her deepening connection with Colleen. Heat surged through her, and while she wasn’t exactly sure just how much the alcohol had prompted, she was determined to do a little research on the issue.

“I date, I just haven’t recently.”

“Do you think your election could handle that?”

Colleen’s gaze traveled up to the ceiling for a moment. “Are you implying that I’m a more palatable lesbian when I’m single?”

“Exactly,” Bijal said, pouring herself another whiskey. “You’re kind of like an unloaded gun—an antique one with a fancy pearl handle.”

“Should I stop this simile before you start speculating on how I might feel in your hand?”

“No, I mean everyone knows how a gun works, what it does. And as long as there aren’t any bullets in it, even someone who doesn’t like guns can admire one without feeling threatened.”

“While that may be, I’m firmly opposed to pretending or hiding something to get votes. I’m more the open-book type.”

Bijal took another sip of her drink. “You must drive your campaign staff crazy.”

“I think they appreciate my frankness,” Colleen said, putting her chin in her hand.

“You don’t constantly decline their ideas and tactics?”

“My staff understands that I have a philosophy of no pandering. I’m not capable of it, even if I wanted to—which I don’t. So when you stop and look at it
that
way, I’m refreshingly reliable in my opinions. It makes strategy sessions much shorter and keeps the flip-flopping to a minimum.”

“Yeah, believe me, I know. I’ve dug through your record with a microscope.”

“See?” Colleen asked. “If I’m pissing y’all off, I must be doing something right. But we should probably stop talking about this.”

Bijal felt a small pang of guilt for crossing over the agreed-upon threshold of what they could discuss. “You know, it’s infuriating how likable you are.”

Colleen sipped on her straw. “Would it make it easier for you if I was a violent bitch?”

“I’m not sure. Would you leave the red handprint of love?” Bijal punctuated the question with her best attempt at a leer.

Colleen covered her mouth with her hand in what appeared to be a polite attempt to hide her amusement. “I hope you didn’t drive here. You took a cab, right?”

“No, I drove,” she replied, finishing her drink. “Why?”

“You may be just a
little
tipsy.”

“Yeah, I probably should have eaten more of my faggity-ass fries.” Just saying the words cracked Bijal up, and she giggled for several seconds while Colleen simply watched. “It’s all right. I’ll just call my roommate. She’ll come get me.”

Removing her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed her home number and was frustrated when she got their voice mail. “Hey, Fran. It’s Bijal, and I’m sitting here at the bar with none other than my opponent, who has been very commodious…um, wait. I don’t think that’s the right word. Anyway, I need a ride home, so spit out that snatch and come and get me.” With that, she closed her phone and slipped it back into her pocket.

“Well,” Colleen said with a smile. “How can she refuse a sweet, helpless request like that?”

Bijal continued laughing. “Was that rude of me?”

“Only if she actually listens to that voice mail while she’s servicing someone. In which case, I think she’d have you beat in the rudeness department.”

“Oh, good point.”

“Do you live nearby?” Colleen asked.

“No, I live in DC.”

“How about I give you a ride?”

Bijal considered the offer. “But I called Fran.”

“But you didn’t reach her. What if her phone is off? Or the battery is dead? Come on, I can’t leave you all the way out here. It’ll take her at least forty-five minutes just to drive out here, and just as long to get back.”

Bijal was warming to the thought of being alone with Colleen in a car for an hour or so. “Well, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. It’s partially my fault that you drank so much, so it’s only right.”

Bijal stared at her for a moment. “You’re so fucking fair, it’s just wrong.”

“Maybe I’ll make that my e-mail auto-signature,” Colleen said, standing and removing two twenty-dollar bills from her pocket and tossing them on the counter. “Hey, Sue, she needs to leave her car here, okay?”

Sue approached them slowly with a smirk. “Sure thing. What kind of car is it, sweetie?”

“A blue Subaru.” Bijal stood up and realized she was a little less sure on her feet than she’d expected. “Um, what do I owe?”

“It’s all taken care of,” Colleen replied.

“Wait, that’s not right. I can’t let you pay for me.”