When Love Calls (6 page)

She closed her eyes and considered the evening, far different than what she had imagined. Then she smiled, remembering the kiss. It was nice, really nice—full and passionate. His tongue had slipped inside her mouth. She licked her lips, hoping some remnant of him remained, but her mint toothpaste had washed him away.

So what was she supposed to make of the senator—a lecher lusting after whatever he wanted, a liar professing his integrity or just a man succumbing to impulse? She sighed, considering each, then decided to think about it tomorrow.

Randolph talked and joked easily with the police officers as he unconsciously toyed with the laminated name tag. After Alyssa and her friend left, he nodded to Kent, who moved to his side and suggested they retire for the evening. Randolph agreed. Then after shaking a few more hands, he said a few parting words and left. Once outside he started thinking about the last few hours. It was definitely not what he had expected.

“Interesting evening,” Randolph said to himself when he got into the back of his car.

“Excuse me?” Kent said, following him inside.

Randolph looked up, realizing he’d spoken aloud. “Nothing, I just said that it was an interesting evening.”

“Indeed it was. Shall we escort the ladies home?”

“Ah, just as far as the office, I think. Stalking is still a crime.”

Kent smiled. “Of course.” He turned and nodded to the driver, then loosened his tie and opened a small valise still on the seat beside him containing a small laptop computer.

The driver took off, following the car in front at a respectable distance. Randolph glanced out the window and smiled. It was an interesting evening. It was the first time in his life he’d been escorted to a police station. And even though he had presented his credentials as soon as he stepped outside and the police profusely apologized for inconveniencing him, he still insisted on going to the station to help with any paperwork.

It was a ruse of course. He wanted to go along to be with Adia again. He smiled, knowing now that that wasn’t her name, but by now, it had already stuck and she was his Adia, his gift from God.

“I’m detailing an advanced press release. Is there anything you’d like to add about this evening’s events?”

“No names,” he said.

“Of course,” Kent said.

“Just stick to the basics,” he added.

“Of course.”

Randolph nodded, realizing that it was completely unnecessary to mention that. Kent had been with him for years. Fifteen years his senior, he had come to Randolph six years ago with a troubled past, asking for a chance. He gave him that chance and they’d been loyal friends ever since. Kent, now his personal assistant, took care of the press releases, the itineraries and small inconveniences while also running his senatorial office.

“Personal memento?” Kent asked of the name tag still in Randolph’s hand.

Randolph looked down, obviously unaware that he still held it. He turned it around to read the professionally scripted writing, positioned crookedly within the plastic tag holder. He tilted his head. “Sundari Adia Nomalanga, a very interesting lady.”

Kent smiled, recallig the very passionate kiss he had witnessed earlier. “She is indeed, not the typical D.C. lobbyist.”

“Definitely not,” Randolph readily agreed. “I can’t believe this evening. First the martini on the tie, then the jerk comment, the name tag, the breaking and entering and finally the police station. What was I thinking?”

“That she was an attractive, intelligent, amusing and accomplished woman.”

“You know me too well.”

“Basically a calamity with charm, sort of a Halle Berry meets Lucille Ball.” Kent smiled, amused with himself.

“Halle Berry meets Lucille Ball?” Randolph questioned.

Kent chuckled. “Okay, it’s late, bad analogy, but you get the picture. Beauty and comedy. When’s the last time you hung out in a police station at one in the morning and enjoyed it? When’s the last time you purposely changed your plans because of a business card and a chance meeting?”

“Good point.” Randolph nodded. “Very interesting.”

“Indeed.” Kent turned the screen around to face him. “Alyssa Adia Wingate.” He pushed a button and a beep sounded on Randolph’s PDA. An e-mail and file had been transferred. “Name, phone number, cell number, address, Social-Security number—”

“What? I’m disappointed, no tax-return information,” Randolph joked.

“—parents’ information, grandparents’ information, tax-return duplicates for the last three years—”

“Okay, thanks, I get it. You found her.”

“Actually, I’d wager she found you, bogus name and all.”

Randolph’s easily suspicious nature was piqued. “You think this evening was planned, a setup?”

“To a certain degree, yes, of course. The reception was planned and she was obviously there to meet you. But as to the events of the past few hours, hardly. What are the chances that you’d go to her office and she’d call the police, thinking you were a burglar?” He chuckled to himself.

“Still, you said it yourself, beauty and comedy.”

“The odds are a million to one, I’d wager,” he said, having been down the dark gambling road before.

“Still,” Randolph repeated, mulling over the possibility that the whole situation was planned for his benefit and that he had been set up or even worse that he was being manipulated. He continued considering the possibility when the car stopped a half block away and the two men watched as Alyssa got out of one car and hurried to another. Both women drove off in opposite directions.

“Shall I follow?” the driver asked, looking up in the rearview mirror.

“No, let’s call it a night. What does my day look like tomorrow?” Randolph asked.

Kent typed, bringing up the daily calendar for both of them to see. “You have an early breakfast meeting with Senator Ross at eight o’clock. Then you’re back in the office until twelve. After that a meeting with Senator Bailey on the Hill, then several conference calls coming in at two o’clock. After that—”

“That’s enough, Kent. Why don’t you take the morning off? And, James—” the driver looked up in the mirror again “—sleep in late, I’ll drive myself in tomorrow morning.”

He nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

“You okay?” Kent asked, seeing Randolph’s pensive expression.

“Yeah, just tired. I guess I could use a vacation. I guess we all could.”

“I’ll add that to my list.” Kent pressed a button and darkened the screen. “One more thing about Miss Wingate, do you trust her?”

“I don’t know her,” Randolph said, “but I think I’d like to.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

James drove off slowly as soon as Alyssa got into her car and pulled away. The three men sat in silence as James drove out of town toward Virginia.

They arrived at Randolph’s house a few moments later. He said good-night, got out and went inside. As soon as the lights went on in the foyer, James drove away, taking Kent home and then going home himself.

Randolph placed his briefcase on the first step, took his jacket off and loosened his tie. It was a long day and long night, but oddly enough, shorter than his last few. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water and two fried chicken legs left by his housekeeper. She always prepared a small snack for him when she knew he’d be out late.

Since he made it a point not to eat at receptions, he and Kent usually grabbed whatever they could catch on the run. Usually something James picked up for both of them between events.

He took a bite of the cold chicken leg and debated heating it up in the microwave, but it tasted so good cold he decided not to bother. A few seconds later, he tossed the bare bone in the trash, wrapped up his goodie snack in a dinner napkin, grabbed his water bottle, jacket and briefcase, then went upstairs to bed.

Chapter 5

M
orning came way too soon as Alyssa crawled out of bed, stubbed her baby toe on her too-large bed in her too-small bedroom, then hopped into the bathroom to get ready for work. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, grabbed a shower and pulled out the annoying curlers. Limp and weak, her hair sagged, meaning she had to take the time to use her curling iron even though she’d suffered through the pain and torture of sleeping in curlers all night. She had a sneaky suspicion that the rest of the day was going to be just as torturous.

Dressed and out the door in record time, she’d opted against using the curling iron and instead maneuvered her long hairstyle into a French twist. She’d dressed casually in slacks, knit top and short jacket, then hurried to her car to begin her day.

As usual, traffic into the city wasn’t as accommodating as it could have been and it seemed that Fridays were always the worst, and to add to that it was her turn to pick up doughnuts and bagels for their weekly meeting. That meant a fifteen-minute detour to the bakery to stand in line to get doughnuts that would be consumed ten minutes into the meeting.

After gathering the pastries, she rushed into the storefront office to begin her day.

“Morning, all. Sorry I’m late,” she announced to the small group assembled around the makeshift conference table in the side room. She dumped the three boxes of doughnuts, pastries and bagels in the center of the table, then sat down, deciding not to remove her jacket. Normally she would, but obviously Ursula Rogers was having another personal heat wave, because, even though it was warm outside for early May, she had the office air conditioner blasting full force.

“Anybody freezing in here?” Nina wrapped her arms around her body, shivering. Wearing a sleeveless low-cut top, she reached over and touched Alyssa’s hand, who jumped slightly.

“Your hands are frozen,” Alyssa said, moving away.

“See? Told you, I’m frozen. It’s cold in here.”

“You need some iron in your blood, Nina. I’m just now getting comfortable,” Ursula said, fanning herself with a file folder.

Ursula’s claim to fame was that in the early 1970s, she’d been a fashion model,
Playboy
cover and centerfold model, then married the governor of Maryland and become the toast of D.C. They divorced soon after, but she kept her political ties and later married a congressman who was now a political adviser. Still very attractive, she knew just about everybody there was to know and heard every speck of D.C gossip before anyone else.

Everybody looked around to their neighbor and smiled, knowing that they’d all just deal with it for the time being. Ursula, who’d be out of the office as soon as the meeting was over, was by far the most aggressive lobbyist on the staff. She arrived early every day and pretty much controlled the office environmental system and everyone just let her have it. That was, until after she left, then all bets were off and so was the air conditioner.

“Sleep well?” Nina asked Alyssa, smirking openly.

“Yes, very. And yourself?” she said, refusing to be goaded by Nina’s comment.

“Like a log, until a slight interruption.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Alyssa said, staring directly at her friend, daring her to mention last night. “What was the interruption?”

Nina chuckled, knowing she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Crank call at midnight,” Nina lied easily.

“They can be the worst,” Alyssa agreed.

“Ain’t that the truth?” Ursula chimed in. “My heart always jumps when the phone rings late at night. I just know it’s some accident or tragedy, but then when it’s some fool asking for some other fool I just want to reach through the phone line and strangle them, especially if I am sleeping soundly. And don’t get me started if it wakes up my husband, Morgan.”

Alyssa and Nina smiled as soon as Ursula brought up the subject. Morgan was Ursula’s second husband and she took great pleasure in bringing his name up as often as possible—while, of course, singing his praises both politically and socially.

After that, the conversation around the table continued in the usual cycle. First crank calls, then phone bills, then cable bills, then what happened to the Buffalo Bills football team. After that, they discussed buffalo, pheasant and other types of meat you don’t hear about anymore.

“Okay, people, we have a busy day ahead, let’s get started,” Pete Lambert said as he came dashing into the conference room, hurried as he usually was. He walked fast, talked fast and never took the time to slow down and enjoy anything. He always said, “Life is a game of musical chairs and you have to be fast and cagey to get the last seat.” No one had any idea what that meant, but his pearls of wisdom always sounded particularly intriguing and thought provoking.

Pete wasn’t your typical boss; he was a relic, a hippy flower child of the sixties who knew the lyrics to every folk and country song John Denver ever sang. He had played backup to Hendrix at Woodstock. He prided himself on being in Folsum Prison the day his one brush with another hero, Johnny Cash, sang. He was a died-in-the-wool rebel and quite often insisted on charging into every situation with guns blazing. He was Jesse James, James Dean, Frederick Douglass, and Malcolm X all rolled into one.

Admired by many, he was the bane of existence for others. When he got his teeth into a cause, look out. He was in for the long haul and not just for a few battles. And heaven help those who opposed him. His passion was unwavering and his idea of relaxation was changing the world in any way possible.

He quickly passed out a few papers, then sat at the head of the table and began the meeting. Thankfully these were always quick. “Okay, first of all, kudos to our planning committee for initiating and refining our recommendations for the current legislative session. It’s been an exciting ride, but we’re not home yet. Congress doesn’t recess for another month, so let’s see what arms we can twist in that time.

“We have three more proposals on the table. As of two days ago our Medicare and heath-care-reform request sailed through without a hitch with help from Alyssa and Nina. Thank you, ladies, for your diligent efforts.”

Everyone began clapping. Nina stood and gracefully waved as Alyssa just nodded and smiled, then blushed and laughed at her friend.

“Okay, okay, not done yet, folks. Nursing homes, age discrimination, health care are all tops on our agenda this session. Also, we’re contacting several pharmaceutical companies regarding their overcharging for prescription drugs. We’re investigating how to get the medication where it needs to be without it costing exorbitant amounts. How are we doing with antifraud?” he asked.