“I hadn’t slept in two days,” Jimmy said. “I was exhausted.”
The waitress came then with our bottle of wine and Jimmy tasted it and nodded and shortly after that, our food started arriving. It was funny how Jimmy had taken control of our table and how happy we were to let him — he ordered a few more dishes and none of us suggested anything else.
It was hard to explain what it was about Jimmy that was so appealing. He wasn’t the loudest person in the room — he certainly wasn’t quiet, but he didn’t have that obnoxious slapstick personality that some attention seekers have, when they’re desperate to have all the eyes in the room on them. He did talk the most that night, but it didn’t feel like he was dominating the conversation, or at least not in a way that was annoying. There was a pull about him, and I remember thinking that first night that he was magnetic, which wasn’t a word I’d ever used to describe someone before. When Matt told me later that Jimmy (like him) wanted to run for office someday, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. It seemed almost obvious, really.
Jimmy had done advance for the most recent campaign and for Kerry in 2004 and Gore in 2000. “Let me tell you,” he said, “you think you know what depressing is, but there’s nothing like working on a campaign that ends like that.” I didn’t know what advance was, and Jimmy explained that he traveled ahead of the President, made sure that everything was set up in the venue, from the lighting to the stage. “Down to the location of the flag,” he said. “I’m basically a traveling wedding planner.” He said this in a self-deprecating way that I knew was an act, but after months of listening to people brag about their jobs, I found it refreshing.
“Did you always know you wanted to do this?” I asked.
“I fell into it by accident,” he said. “I met some advance people right after college, some people my dad knew, and I thought it sounded fun. And once I started, I didn’t want to stop. I was supposed to start law school in the fall of ’07. I was enrolled at UT, all set to go. My dad told me that enough was enough, that it was time to stop jumping on campaigns and settle into something more serious. But then I did a couple trips that summer for the Obama campaign, and I knew right away this was different. I knew as soon as I met him that I wasn’t going to go to law school. My dad was so pissed.”
“But now you’re working at the White House,” Matt said. “He must be pretty happy about that.”
Jimmy shrugged, and then said lightly, “Actually, I think he’d rather have me be a lawyer.”
I didn’t know at the time who Jimmy’s dad was, and you wouldn’t have known he was anyone special from the way Jimmy talked about him. Matt told me later that Jimmy’s dad was one of the most well-known lawyers in Texas. “Probably the most well known. Famous, really,” Matt said. He was also a huge Democratic supporter, and hosted lots of fund-raisers. When Jimmy talked about the advance people his dad knew, it was campaign staff who had been at his house during fund-raisers in 2000.
When we left the restaurant, we were already making plans for the four of us to go out to dinner the next week. Ash took my number and told me she was going to call me the next day. “I mean it,” she said. “Don’t be surprised when I call you first thing tomorrow. I am in desperate need of some girl time.”
Walking home from Fourteenth Street that night, I felt hopeful. It was warm, but not sticky, and there was a nice breeze. It felt good to walk off all the drinks we’d had, and Matt and I were silent for the first few blocks. “I like them,” I finally said. And I remember so clearly, how he put his arm around my shoulders, pulled me toward him, and kissed the side of my head. I could feel him smiling as he said, “I’m so glad there’s something in this city that you like.”
Chapter 6
True to her word, Ash called me the next day, and while I wasn’t totally surprised (she had, after all, been insistent that she was going to do just that), I was pleased. After so many awkward encounters with Alan and the rest of the White House crew, it was a relief to feel like someone actually found me to be pleasant company. I’d started to doubt myself. Sometimes I think if Ash hadn’t called me, hadn’t pursued a friendship, I would’ve stopped trying to make new DC friends altogether.
The Dillons had a membership to the pool at the Hilton across the street from us, and Ash and I made plans to meet there the following Monday. I couldn’t help but smile as I hung up and relayed the conversation to Matt.
“You have a date,” he said, laughing just a little. But I could tell he was happy for me, that maybe he’d also been worried I wouldn’t make any friends in this city.
“I know. Thank God, right?” And then I started laughing, mostly from relief, I guess.
“Just remember,” Matt said, grinning. “Be yourself and don’t put out on the first date.”
—
I was ready early on Monday, and stood on the corner of Florida and T, waiting for Ash, who had texted to tell me she was on her way. It was hot and I could feel sweat sliding down my back as I stood in the sun holding my canvas bag filled with magazines, sunscreen, and a book. I wiped my upper lip, which was already wet with sweat just from standing there. I didn’t understand how anyone got used to this humidity, ever.
When I finally saw Ash walking down Florida, I felt suddenly shy and held up my hand in an awkward wave, but she bounced across the street and threw her arms around my neck, giving a little squeal as she did. “I’m so glad you were free,” she said. “Isn’t this the most perfect day to go to the pool?”
“It is,” I said. “Because it’s about a hundred and twenty degrees out.”
Ash just laughed. “You forget, I grew up in Houston,” she said. “This is nothing to me.”
We found lounge chairs and unpacked our things, laying out our towels and getting settled. The pool wasn’t all that crowded — it was Monday, after all — just a few moms with young children who all seemed to know each other, and a random hotel guest or two.
Ash took a dip in the pool right away, piling her hair on top of her head and only going up to her shoulders. I did the same, and then we repositioned ourselves in the sun, the water evaporating off of our bodies almost immediately. We each took out a magazine and began paging through, chatting a little as we did.
Everything was pleasant, but it was hard for me to completely relax — I’d gone back for a third interview at DCLOVE and had a fourth the next day. It was driving me crazy the way they were dragging this out, and even though I’d been ambivalent about the job in the beginning, I now wanted it badly. (Which sometimes I thought was their whole strategy.) It felt funny to be hanging out by a pool on a day that everyone else was in an office, like it was wrong somehow. I said as much to Ash, and she made a sympathetic noise, but it was clear she didn’t share my anxiety about it. She mentioned vaguely that she’d probably start looking for a job soon, but I got the feeling that money wasn’t a worry, and when I pressed her as to what sort of job she might be looking for, she didn’t really answer, just said that she didn’t want to take a job unless it was the right fit and then changed the subject.
When I rambled on a little bit about how many résumés I’d sent out, how I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I wasn’t hired at DCLOVE, she laughed and waved her hand in front of her, like she thought I was being ridiculous. “Girl, you’re too stressed out,” she said. “Enjoy this. You’ll be fine.” Then she waved down an attendant and ordered us two glasses of white wine. “That’ll help,” she said, lying back in her chair and adjusting her sunglasses.
—
Our conversation was all over the place, but in a good way. We talked about our husbands and moving to DC, our families, college, The Bachelor, and buying swimsuits. But when I mentioned something about Alan’s party, Ash snorted. “He is one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met,” she said, and I burst out laughing. “Seriously,” she continued. “The first time I met him he told me what the President’s favorite snacks were, and what he prefers to eat for lunch. There is something not quite right in that boy’s head.”