by J J Arias
Before George could drag away her gaze, Mila turned to take a passing drink off a tray and caught sight of her. As soon as their eyes locked, George felt naked and undefended. It was a raw, uncomfortable thing, but she was powerless to stop it.
Full, red lips curled into a lopsided smile. It was a cataclysm on George’s nervous system. Mila lifted her glass and tipped it in her direction as if engaging in a toast from hundreds of feet away.
Of their own accord, maybe because on a subconscious level some rudimentary part of George wanted to spare her embarrassment, her hand lifted and tipped her glass in return. And then, the pink came into view.
Next to Mila was a stunning young woman. Her lithe body was in a pale pink dress that had been dyed to match her hair. Usually, George wouldn’t be a fan of unnatural hair colors, but the soft pink suited her. There was no doubt. Mila’s date was as gorgeous as she should’ve expected. The image of the two women standing side-by-side, happily talking with the other staffers their own age, shattered any delusions she may have been nursing in the back of her mind.
The dinner bell shepherded back in the noise and chaos of the room. Automatic pilot carried her through the motions of hosting as she led her guests into the dining room, stood by Nathan as they gave some official welcoming remarks, and then sat down to dinner.
She didn’t remember what anything had tasted like or what the topic of conversation at her table had been. Thankfully, Nathan and Josephine had done most of the talking. Both knew her well enough to sense something was wrong, but she couldn’t explain. She didn’t have words for the disquiet in her chest or the sickness in her stomach.
Of course she brought a date, and why shouldn’t she? George tried to shake the thoughts of Mila loose. Dancing will help. Just have to get through this part.
After dinner, the band played hits from across decades and genres as George and her guests covered the dance floor. Every few songs she saw Mila, but she wasn’t always dancing with her date. Sometimes, she was dancing with the tall staffer who’d been dressed as Colonel Sanders at the Halloween party. For a moment she wondered if maybe there was a connection between them, but Mila never touched him.
Other times, she was dancing with her date. They would sometimes touch, but George didn’t notice any deep, penetrating glances. When she started to feel a tingle of relief, the little party crasher in her head spoke up. Maybe they’ve only just started seeing each other. Or, maybe she isn’t going to engage in public displays of affection at a professional event. George hadn’t noticed any other drinks in her hand, maybe she was just careful about appearances. Her political aspirations were no secret and she was obviously not careless.
The few times their eyes met, George couldn’t control the partial paralysis that overcame her. It was like a venomous thing but with euphoric side effects. What the hell is happening to me, she wondered as she took long sips of water. Maybe it’s food poisoning, she decided after coming up with no reason for her out of body experiences.
“Five minutes to midnight,” the singer cried into the microphone.
A flurry of waiters, caterers, and other staff members descended on the ballroom to pass out little cups holding a dozen grapes.
George grabbed hers as she made her way to the stage. “For those of you joining us for the first time,” she explained into the microphone as her eyes drifted to Mila and then to a blank spot on the back wall. Eye contact was too much for the moment. “You should all have a cup with a dozen grapes. This is a very special tradition my parents brought with them to this country, and I am excited to share it with you tonight. As soon as the clock strikes midnight, you have a minute to eat all the grapes one-by-one, and that’s important. Don’t just chug the grapes. I don’t want to get sued if you choke,” she joked. “With each grape, make a wish you want to come true in the new year, alright?”
A surge of excitement tore through the crowd as people got in position, and then the wait was on. Nathan joined her on stage, and together, they counted down the last ten seconds of the year. As soon as the clock struck midnight, streamers and confetti erupted from the ceiling.
“Happy New Year!” George yelled, not needing the microphone for her voice to boom throughout the ballroom. Nathan planted a kiss on her cheek, and they raced to finish their grapes. As she rattled off her wishes, she looked for Mila. Did she kiss her date? She imagined a dramatic dip like a sailor going off to war, but the thick wall of festive bits of paper falling from the sky obstructed her view. By the time she found her, Mila and her little group were scarfing down grapes.
“I won!” Nathan exclaimed, his mouth still full. He always won. Despite her decades of explanation, he never grasped the concept of one at a time.
She chuckled and rolled her eyes. With two grapes left, she was afraid to make the real wish in her heart. Fuck it. She closed her eyes, popped them both in her mouth, and wished.
* * *
The confetti had been a new addition, and George hadn’t anticipated it sticking to her in the most undignified ways. As soon as Nathan whispered that the little bits of paper were floating into her dress through the plunging neckline, she excused herself and slipped away unnoticed through a service door and out to her refuge. The little powder room attached to her library would be the perfect place to freshen up and de-confetti herself.
The quiet of the hallway was a welcome respite from the loud music in the ballroom. It was a fun party, but the break was nice too. After getting herself together and touching up her makeup, she stepped back into the library.
“What are you doing in here?” she snapped, surprised at the hard edge in her own voice. She certainly hadn’t expected to be followed, or to find anyone standing in her library.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Mila replied, her raspy voice evidence that she’d spent the night talking loudly over music and ambient noise.
“You didn’t.” There was no more softness in her tone than there had been at the start.
“Were you looking to get the confetti out?” she asked, pulling little bits off her own bare shoulders.
George’s eyes followed her elegant fingers to the bare flesh left exposed by her dress. Mila moved slower than necessary as she ran her fingers over her own skin. Or maybe George was just having a stroke and it was affecting her sense of time. There was no way to be sure.
“You throw an unexpectedly swinging New Year’s Eve party,” she said, undeterred by George having forgotten to answer her question.
Rooted to her spot as Mila floated toward her like she had in that damn dream, George met her gaze. There was something about her eyes that gave new meaning to the concept of captivating.
“I especially liked that grape thing,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ve never heard of a tradition like that.” Her voice was barely audible as she battled her raw throat for every word.
George couldn’t speak and she couldn’t find the will to try. She had been on a hamster wheel running away from the exact feelings this moment was forcing her to experience. She was too tired to fight it anymore. The spiderweb had bested her despite her valiant struggle.
Mila reached out and gently removed a little circle of pink paper stuck to her forearm. George’s eyes slipped closed as her touch grazed her sensitive skin. The result was immediate electricity as intense as the fireworks exploding around the city in that moment.
Mila lifted the bit of paper to her mouth and blew it away like it was a dandelion. Her gaze held her again. “What did you wish for?” she asked as if George hadn’t been standing mute for the previous inquiries.
“The usual,” George managed, her voice sounding sleepy. “Health, re-election, happiness.” She trailed off into nothing. The jackhammering of her heart as she stood inches away from the woman who’d been invading her thoughts for weeks made it impossible to think - much less speak.
“I,” Mila started, despite the fact that George hadn’t yet managed to ask her the same question in return, “wished for
the same thing twelve times,” she confessed, inching closer to her until there was hardly any space between them. “Is that allowed?”
George, as if entranced by a snake charmer, nodded. “It’s most definitely allowed.”
“Will it improve my chances of getting what I want?” she whispered.
What do you want? George screamed in her head. It was an unfamiliar voice, but that was not as unnerving as her confidence that she knew exactly what she’d wished for, because she’d wished for it too. Not twelve times, but with two very daring and risky grapes that made her feel like she was dangling her entire future over the side of a cliff.
“I hope your wish comes true,” George said as she forced her feet to carry her away before their absence was noticed by any of the hundreds of eyes in attendance. Self-preservation was strong in her, and in the back of her mind she knew that some risks were even riskier than others. They could not be seen together like that, and the chances they’d be caught were astronomical.
With a trembling body, George tore herself away. The new year would start with serious insomnia and anguished curiosity over what Mila wanted so much she wished for it twelve times.
* * *
Left alone in the darkness, Mila let her body drop into an armchair near the unlit fireplace. Her body buzzed with the unexpended desire to kiss her. One more moment and she would have tasted her lips, of that she was sure. Mila closed her eyes before leaning against the backrest.
What are you thinking? She would give anything to know whether the other woman’s skin was tingling too. Whether her stomach was tied in knots.
I’m not imagining things, she decided. They hadn’t just been caught up in some moment. It had been a still, private exchange. It had been sincere. Genuine.
Mila shut her eyes tighter as her body relived the electricity coursing between them. I should have kissed her, she admonished herself for the hesitation. She would have kissed me back. Despite her certainty that her interest was not one-sided, Amanda’s words chipped away at her confidence. She knew that objectively a romantic spark between them was next to impossible, but it was there nonetheless. The laundry list of reasons why they shouldn’t be drawn to each other was meaningless in the face of their obvious attraction.
“Miss Dortch?” a woman’s voice called from beyond the partially open door leading to the hall. “Are you alright? Why are you in here?” Her tone was more accusatory than concerned.
Clearing her throat as she stood, Mila apologized. “I’m sorry, I—”
The irate woman didn’t let her finish. “It’s fine,” she snapped even though clearly it wasn’t. “Governor Fernandez does not allow guests or anyone else in this room unattended. Please return to the party.” She wielded the word guests like a sword.
“Of course,” she tipped her head as she past the woman waiting at the door to make sure she left, “I was just leaving.”
Chapter Seventeen
Miami, and the county it sat in, had always been a key to George’s political success. A week’s worth of events was packed tightly between the nonstop job of running the state. Incumbency had its advantages, but campaigning and governing were two full time jobs that had to be performed simultaneously. She would have to thank caffeine in her acceptance speech.
“When you win again, I’m taking a month off to live in a spa,” Josephine decided as she stretched her back before climbing into the SUV for the third time that morning.
George, on a scheduled phone call, nodded in complete agreement as she filed in behind her. A few minutes later, they were racing toward their next stop.
“How’d it go?”
“They want support for a highway toll increase,” George replied with a shrug.
“Oh that’s a popular issue for re-election,” she replied sarcastically.
George closed her eyes and reclined in her seat. They rode in silence for a while, but she could sense Josephine’s eyes burning holes in her. For the last couple of days, she knew in her bones that her longtime friend and trusted advisor wanted to say something. It wasn’t like her to hold her tongue, and it made her uneasy.
“Just come out with it, Jo,” she advised as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Did we get bad numbers?”
“You’re actually polling better than your first run. That kid they put up against you is going over only slightly better than a lead balloon with the independents. He’s hunkered down on very partisan politics and hoping his base and your opposition comes out strong,” she told her, rolling her eyes. “His campaign team should tell him that banking on anger for votes only works during an economic downturn or if you’ve got some alleged moral crusade to exploit. But jobs are up and even the people that don’t like you can’t complain that you cut some pork-barrel projects and saved the state millions in taxpayer dollars without cutting services.”
Josephine’s rambling forced her to sit up and open her eyes. Avoidant was not one of Jo’s traits. “What’s wrong?” The dry authority in her tone indicated she wasn’t really asking.
Josephine’s eyes darted around the backseat, sending a sickly cold sweat over George’s skin. She tightened her jaw and furrowed her brow. With a softness in her face that said, I’m so sorry, she glanced at the driver and the police officer sitting in the front seat.
George unclenched the fists she hadn’t known she’d balled up at her sides. As the blood rushed back to the digits, she tried to sit back and look normal, but she couldn’t. Her entire body was a kid’s windup toy twisted to capacity and held in place.
The SUV morphed into a suffocating prison. What George wouldn’t give to jump out onto the highway and run past the caravan of police escorts flanking her. Run until her quads split in two and she became nothing but dust released to the four corners of the earth, free from the misery of constraint.
Instead, she was trapped in a large metal cage inching along in never ending traffic. Externally, she remained calm, picking up her phone and using her travel time to answer emails. Internally, she was screaming. It’s not news about my father. She wouldn’t keep that from me, even in front of others. It has to be something that would hurt the campaign. It couldn’t be about Nathan because after the strip club thing he promised never to let me get blindsided again. Unless she intercepted something. Maybe his girlfriend is sick of their arrangement.
Her mind raced with possibilities during the eternal car ride. Everything seemed possible and catastrophic.
Arriving at their destination was no improvement. There was no private corner to hide in, or moments to steal away. Adding to her mounting dread was the queasy expression on Josephine’s face every time they made eye contact. Hours later, Josephine and George found privacy in her hotel room, and her burning curiosity could finally be sated.
“Well?” George asked expectantly before the door had closed all the way.
“By now you’ve probably worked this up to more than it actually—”
“Jo, I’ve spent all day imagining every possible thing it can be, so please just put me out of my misery and don’t sugarcoat anything. Just tell me.”
Josephine nodded and sat in the armchair in the suite’s foyer. George remained standing with her arms crossed over her chest and her gazed fixed on her.
“Brenda saw you and Mila in the library on New Year’s Eve,” she said in a soft, un-Josephine way.
Brenda. One of the newer members of the house staff. George was silent as she took the chair next to Josephine’s. Her mind was moving in too many directions at once.
“Nothing happened,” she said, starting with the most pertinent fact. “I went to the powder room and she followed me in. We talked for a moment. That was all.” George knew that wasn’t all, but everything else happened inside her own mind. As far as she knew, her thoughts were still safe.
“The NDA is airtight. She came to me just to let me know that discretion might be better employed, but I don’t think she’s going to say anything. If she did—”
�
��Hello, Earth to Josephine Peters. Calling Josephine Peters. I told you, absolutely nothing happened,” she repeated. “You don’t think I would have told you immediately if it had?”
George’s face was flushed with heat. There was no reason for Josephine not to believe her, and she couldn’t make sense of it. “What did she say?”
“She said the door was ajar and she was worried a guest had wandered in there. Since everyone knows it’s so important to you and off limits, she went to investigate. She says you and Mila were standing in the dark, very close to each other and whispering. Now, she wasn’t positive about the kiss, but thought—”
“Kiss?” She echoed, standing to better release the anger from her being. “We absolutely did not kiss!” she managed in a whisper that still sounded like a scream.
“But the rest of it?”
“Taken out of context!” she protested, her bare feet starting to move her in circles around the room.
“Okay,” Jo stated calmly like a negotiator talking someone off a literal ledge. “So, what were you doing in there? With her. In a room you don’t open to company. Just after midnight. In the dark. Alone.”
George stopped her pacing just long enough to glare with full force. She didn’t like Jo’s anxiety about this, but it was preferable to the smirk she knew was just dying to break onto her face.
“Nothing! I don’t know! Talking about grapes!” She knew she was ranting, but that train had left the station and wouldn’t be returning. Part of her was relieved that there was nothing truly damaging to hide, but she knew there almost had been. Relief, fear, anxiety, and regret took turns bombarding her nervous system.
“Grapes?” Josephine echoed, a single eyebrow raised in question.
“I was just telling her about the tradition,” she explained, plopping on the armchair like an open sack of fish.
The dreaded smirk arrived on a momentary delay. “You mean you talked about your wishes,” she corrected, leaning in with a hand under her chin like a girlfriend waiting for gossip.
