She hadn't given it much thought since, and yet here it was, resurrected and staring her in the face.
"This isn't really me, " she said.
"I'm sure it isn't." Blair touched her hand solicitously. "But we've got to do some brainstorming to assess our options if it reaches the senator's desk." She backed up an inch and his hand broke contact.
There it was again, we.
"What do you suggest? " "Oh, " he said so casually, "how about my place? Tonight. And wear something nice." Gin felt her hands close into fists. She wanted to ram one of them into his nose, and then yank out that wimpy mustache one hair at a time
"Sorry, " she said calmly, moving her jaw so she wouldn't be talking through gritted teeth. "I've got plans for tonight."
"Tomorrow night, then. We haven't much time" We have no time
She regarded him coolly, levelly. "Nope. Sorry. I'm busy. Tonight, tomorrow night, every night. ' He stared back at her, obviously confused. Then his eyes narrowed, but only for a second. He shrugged carelessly and turned away.
"Okay, " he said over his shoulder. "Your loss. But don't say I didn't offer to help."
"I won't, " she said softly as she stretched a trembling finger toward the DOWN button.
She dammed up the rage and humiliation as she waited. It wasn't supposed to be like this, wasn't supposed to work this way.
The car finally came, the doors closed behind her and the box began its slow fall. Alone, sealed off, she wanted to scream, wanted to sob.
She did neither. She wiped a single tear from her right eye and whispered one word.
"Damn." She found Gerry waiting for her in the atrium. She forced a smile and hoped her eyes weren't red.
"What are you doing here? " "Waiting for you. What else? " He looked good. Even at the end of a workday with a little five-o'clock shadow stippling his cheeks, he looked damn good. But the excitement Gin had felt the last couple of times they were together was missing today.
She didn't want to be with anyone now.
"But how did you know? " "You told me. Remember? On the phone?
Maybe five hours ago? " "Oh. Right." Her mind wasn't working too well at the moment.
"So how about a drink? " A polite demurral began in her throat but she held it back. She'd been injured and her instincts urged her to retreat to a corner and be alone.
But that was what Pasta would have done.
"Sure. I'd love one."
"Great. I know just the place. We'll take a shortcut." He took her arm and led her toward the rear of the Hart Building. "A celebratory drink, I hope."
"No, " she said slowly.
"I'm afraid not."
"You're kidding. Whar, ? ' "I"II tell you about it." * * * Gerry clenched and unclenched his fists under the table as Gin told her story.
They sat at an isolated table near the window. He'd broughr her to the Sommelier, a little wine bar on Mass, because he'd learned that she preferred wine to liquor, and had a fondness for Italian reds.
Gerry preferred Irish sipping whiskey, preferably Black Bush. But if wine was the only thing, he usually toughed it out with white zinfandel.
No wine snob he.
He could see Gin was hurt. She spoke softly, almost matter-offactly, over her glass of valpolicella, swirling then sipping it, swirling and sipping. Her voice was steady, as were her hands, she looked perfectly composed. But Gerry sensed the pain.
As his mood darkened, he wished he hadn't brought her here. The gleaming surfaces of the polished brass and chrome and marble of the Sommelier were too clean, too bright for the story she told. They should have been in a seedy cocktail lounge.
No. This was better. Clean and shiny suited her. Here it was only the third time they'd been together and already he was feeling protective.
And so attracted. He hadn't felt this way since college, when he and Karen had started dating and getting serious. A good, warm feeling.
Thoughts of Gin were beginning to intrude on his work. He'd find himself thinking about her at the most inconvenient times, wondering what she was doing, wondering if she was thinking about him.
And now he was sharing her anger, her anguish. She had expected better of a U. S. senator's office. She deserved better.
Sometimes he hated this goddamn town.
"That's the way it is here, " he told her after she finished. "Not just with you. With everything. It's a mindset."
"So I shouldn't take it personally? ' Her eyes flashed. "Is that what you're saying?
" . "Yes and no, " he said slowly. Had to choose his words carefully here. He didn't want to wind up a lightning rod for that anger. "You should be offended, angry, even feel humiliated, but realize too that Blair is simply doing what comes naturally on the Hill. He's just playing by the rules as he's learned them." '"Hill rat, " she said, shaking her head. "Boy, if ever a term fit someone. But aren't there laws, ? " "Yeah, probably written by the Hill rats themselves, and passed by their bosses. But for other people, for the constituents.
They don't apply up here on the Hill. You've entered an ethical Twilight Zone."
"You seem so casual about it." Was he? Was she right? Had he been investigating political corruption long enough to take it for granted?
Maybe. He didn't like that answer.
But he wasn't talking about blatant graft here. No, it was more of an atmosphere, an ambience. A different set of values.
"I can't be casual about you being hurt." She gave him a little smile. He loved the way her lips curled up at the corners. Her eyes said thank you.
He reached across and gripped her hand. She didn't pull away.
"Look, Gin, " he said. "If you want to be a part of the doings on the Hill, you're going to have to play by their rules. The people up here aren't going to change for you."
"I never expected them to, but, " "Think of yourself as having entered the world's largest bazaar, where everything is for sale but no prices are marked. The currency is influence, and the best hagglers walk away with the fullest shopping carts."
"That's pretty damn grim, Gerry."
"Gin, " he said, leaning forward, "I'm sure you see influence peddling in hospital politics, but that's penny-ante stuff. This is the major leagues. This Blair guy, he's got influence with his senator to get you something you want, you, in turn, have got something he wants.
Sounds as if he's experienced at the game, very circumspect in his hallway negotiation, and that's just what it was, a negotiation. And don't think that it occurred in an empty hallway by accident. No quid pro quo proposition, just a generous offer to help you deal with a possible hitch in your appointment. And no witnesses. Very smooth."
"You sound as if you almost admire him."
"I will admire my fist in his face if I ever meet up with him, " he said.
Gerry was rewarded with another smile, this one big enough to reveal the glistening white of Gin's teeth.
"Don't get yourself in trouble on my account."
"It's a good account.
" "Does that mean I can make a professional request? " " Professional?
" "Yes. Police-type stuff. I'm trying to find out about Duncan Lathram's daughter." Gerry felt his insides tighten as they always did at mention of Lathram's name, but he remained impassive. Obviously she was tired of talking about Joe Blair.
"What about her? She in trouble? " "No. She died in an accident five years ago." "What kind of accident? " "A fall at home."