Page 11 of Primary Season
That night around eleven fifteen, as I poured myself a drink from the minibar, I heard a knock on my hotel room door. When I opened it, I found Alex on the other side. She stepped backward in the hallway and sucked in a deep breath.
“Sorry to bother you and Kathryn,” she said as her cheeks grew pink. “But we need to chat.”
“That’s fine. You’re not bothering us. Besides, she’s already asleep in the other room,” I said, and glanced over my shoulder down the length of the suite. Kathryn’s door remained closed.Good.I turned back to Alex. “And I never go to bed this early.”
“Well, I was thinking about something on the agenda for tomorrow, and I didn’t think it should wait until the morning.”
“No problem,” I said, taking in the sight of her. “In fact, you’re just in time for a nightcap.” I held up the mini bottle of Maker’s Mark. “What do you say to a drink while we talk it over?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “All right.”
“You like bourbon, don’t you?”
“Sure do,” she said as she glided into the room, still wearing the black skirt and white oxford shirt from earlier. I shut the door behind us and focused on her round, tight ass as she walked to the couch on the far end of my suite.
Damn.
“How you do like it?” she said as she sat down. “Straight up or on the rocks?”
“Straight up.” I grinned, took another bottle from the minibar, handed it to her and took a seat in the burgundy armchair across from the sofa. “Bottoms up.” I raised the bottle and she tipped her back to me. She downed the alcohol in a smooth shot, and I followed her lead.
“Whew,” she said. “Not bad.”
“You seem like you have some experience with this kind of thing.”
She sank further into the couch. “You don’t get out of Tulane without learning how to drink.”
“Of course, I remember now. You told me about Tulane that night at Old Ebbit.” I paused. “I’m trying to think what I know about that school. Hmm. The students named the mascot Pecker, didn’t they?”
“Guilty as charged. Of course, they wouldn’t let us keep that name.” She sighed. “But Riptide the Pelican just doesn’t have the same…ring.”
I laughed. “Did you like it there?”
“I did. New Orleans is a whole different world compared to growing up in Omaha.”
“Good old Omaha.”
She frowned, but a smile pulled at her lips. “Don’t pretend you’ve ever been there. I know you haven’t. No one just ‘goes’ to Omaha because they feel like it…unless they’re playing in the baseball College World Series or trying to get Warren Buffet’s money.”
“Think he’ll give me some?”
She laughed.
“It’s true, I’ve never been to Omaha.” I put the empty bottle on the coffee table. “But if we get through the next couple of rounds, I guess I will.Wewill.”
“The breakfast was a good start, but I think your best moment was the town hall at the VFW in Mt. Pleasant. They were with you.”
“I hope so.”
“They better be, right? We aren’t working this hard just to drop out after South Carolina.”
“Nope.” I raised an eyebrow. “But the attack ads have already started. They’re coming at me hard. Saw one from the NRA about my gun-control votes.”
“We knew they’d spend. They want to dominate the voters. Scare them about you in case you’re the nominee. Everyone knows that.”
“And is that why you’re here tonight? You wanted to talk strategy about the NRA?”
She laughed once and looked away from me. “No. It’s not that.” Then her gaze met mine again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said this morning at the breakfast.”
