Page 44 of The Press Secretary's Passion
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. We never heard anything more about Rachel’s kidnapping, but then again, we all thought Ashley was just a pawn and we always had. But what if it wasn’t that simple? I look back at Mark and see him watching Jake now. It makes me uncomfortable. And then he heads to the waiting limo, and I watch as he leaves.
The service is over. Thank God.
“We need to meet,” Jake says low as our group gathers for a word while the service breaks up. “The residence will do.”
“Willco,” Ryan says before we all depart on nods to meet at the White House residence.
I depart from the group, climb in my car, and head back toward the capitol after watching Gus herd Jake and Grace into their vehicle. Ryan gets in with them, as does Rick.
Cara is missing from our little funeral party, because she thought it was tacky to attend the funeral service of the person you accidentally killed in self-defense. She’s clearly not in politics… or the media for another thing. She’s not ruthless enough. My colleagues would take me out and dance at my funeral if it meant they got my job.
God, I love my job.
As I watch them all depart, it reminds me that I’m on the outside looking in. I belong, but I don’t. I wonder if I should attend the meeting at the residence or if I’m not important enough, when my phone sounds with a text alert.
RYAN: In case you’re wondering, Jake means you too.
ME: I wasn’t.
RYAN: You were.
ME: Was not. And also, you don’t know that he means me too. I’m not really involved in this.
RYAN: You’re involved.
ME: You don’t know that!
JAKE: Come to the meeting. You two are giving me gray hair.
Well, there you have it. I’m going to the meeting at the residence. I drive through to the capitol, wanting to stop for a burrito, but I know I don’t have time. It wouldn’t do to keep the president waiting when he needs a meeting. I’ll get one on the way home.
I pull into the secret parking for the residence and make my way through security. I’m the last to arrive, but not by much. Must be nice to have that D.C. Metro Police escort though.
I’m ushered into a parlor room with fancy sofas and armchairs all around a big fireplace. Everyone looks at me when I walk in the room. Well, that doesn’t feel awkward at all.
I walk over to the only empty seat in the room, and it’s on the sofa near Grace, thank God, but it’s also within touching distance of Ryan. I decide then and there that the only course of action is to completely pretend like he doesn’t exist.
“So what’s this party all about?” I ask.
“Black was passed a note during the service,” Jake responds. “The man identified himself only as the messenger, but the note is unfortunate.”
“What does it say?” I ask, when really what I want to ask is what does it have to do with me? I am 100 percent not cut out for all this cloak and dagger nonsense.
They pass a sheet of paper around the room before it gets to me so that everyone can see it. It’s tucked safely in a plastic zip bag, I guess to protect the evidence, but I’m not a cop or super-secret spy, so who knows?
I look at it and wonder if this is some kind of a joke. What the hell does this even mean? I hope it makes sense to everyone else, because I have no earthly idea.
The Old Ghost may rise, but the other will fall for him to take flight. The eagle and her mate are first to go.
I smile as nothing other than relief courses through my body. Thank God. This has nothing to do with me. This is fantastic!
“What could you be so happy about?” Ryan growls, making me jump a little in my seat. I look over my shoulder. I had forgotten he was so close.
“I’m not happy,” I reply. When he looks like he doesn’t believe me, I press on. “Really. I promise. I’m just relieved, because this doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because I have no idea what it means,” I admit. “If I don’t know what any of this is, then it can’t be about me.”
