Page 2 of The Senator: Raphael

“I’m not going to fake a relationship for some bigots who think I should be married because I’m thirty-five.” I stand my ground. We have had this discussion a hundred times and I’m not giving in.

“It’s not some bigots. They’re your voters. They want stability, and a married man is the poster child for stability. Today they asked you for the umpteenth time if you’re gay, and it wasn’t some closed-minded old grandpa,” he points out.

“And I handled it well, didn’t I?” I start to simmer with anger.

I can’t understand losing voters because I’m not in a relationship. Would they prefer one of those fake marriages where everyone cheats and hides it under the rug? Or would they rather just be lied to and pretend everything is fine? It doesn’t make sense.

“They want commitment from you—if you want them to trust you with their lives. And a married man shows exactly that. You can learn to love whatever woman you choose, but you have to settle down at some point.” His voice softens along with his features and I’m glad the car stops in front of the Hunting Club, because it’s hard to swallow the lump growing in my throat.

“My answer will always be a no. I won’t fake a relationship for the sake of a bunch of votes,” I say before opening the door and getting out of the car.

I quicken my pace and walk to the desk where the young man we hired recently greets me with a smile. I sign in and walk around the counter toward the bar. Technically, this is a hunting club, hated by every environmentalist in Los Angeles because of what it represents. But in reality, no one here has ever hunted, at least not the people I know personally. It’s just a cover for a men’s club where the most powerful public figures in this city meet privately. It’s on an invitation-only basis, discrete, and we can relax and be ourselves without being under public scrutiny all the time. It’s a breath of fresh air when you need to vent your frustrations without ending up in the gossip magazines.

I walk to the bar and sit next to Harrison Bates, one of the people I consider a friend outside of this place. He’s a Hollywood star, an Oscar-winning, panties-dropping kind of guy, and right now he seems to need alcohol even more than I do.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

He briefly glances at me before turning his attention to the sparkling water in front of him. He’s currently filming a movie where ninety percent of the time he’s half-naked, so he’s on a forced diet: no alcohol or anything caloric for him. I have no idea how he endures that life.

“Not here.”

I look around and see people I would prefer to not have eavesdropping on our conversation. I stand up and beckon him to follow me.

After we change out of our clothes, we reach one of the small saunas and sit inside, towels knotted at our waist. Harrison sits in front of me, and I have to admit the hours he spends in the gym are not wasted. The guy is ripped.

“Are you done checking me out?” He smirks.

“Honestly, no. How can you look like that twenty-four seven?”

He chuckles. “It’s a nightmare, trust me. I can’t eat anything, drink only water and those protein shakes I hate, and I hit the gym seven days a week plus film the movie. I can’t wait for this torture to end.”

I shake my head, admiring his resilience in his job. “So, that’s why you’re wearing this face?” I prod.

“No, I have this face because I’m almost sure this movie will flop.” He smiles sadly, resignation showing in his eyes.

“Any particular reason or just a gut feeling?” He’s been in this industry long enough to know how far a movie will go even before it hits the theatres.

“The director is a freak, not in a good way, and the chemistry with Agatha, my love interest in the movie, is about the same as with a tree trunk.”

“Ouch.” I smile.

He shrugs. “She’s hot, I’m hot, but we don’t hit it off.”

“And humble too!” I bark out a laugh.

He smirks again. He is so damn confident, which is why he’s so successful in Hollywood. “You were the one checking me out a few minutes ago.”

“Well, I can’t deny that,” I admit. “Have you talked with Aaron about it? I know he’s not producing the movie, but maybe he has some suggestions.”

Aaron is a member of this club, a successful movie producer, and someone who dictates the rules in the Hollywood Hills. He’s also our friend and someone we can count on.

“No. I turned down one of his TV shows to film this movie. He’ll kick my ass and say, ‘Told you so,’” he grumbles.

I smile. There’s always been this dance between those two. One trying to convince the other to work on a project together, the other too busy to consider it. I think Harrison is scared that if the movie flops like this one it will ruin their relationship, and he doesn’t want to lose a friend.

“So, suck it up and make things with Agatha less awkward.”

“I can’t. I really can’t. She’s a diva, and I can’t deal with her attitude. And I can tell she doesn’t like mine because she can’t leave the set fast enough between takes.”

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