It wasn’t.
As soon as I’d realized I couldn’t take the stairs, I should have gone back for my phone. I’d left it in my bag with security so I could quickly slip through the metal detectors and reclaim the umbrella I’d forgotten. The late summer downpour outside had made it impossible to leave the building without it unless I intended to show up at the bar looking like a cat in a bath.
That was not an option. The staff waiting to say goodbye to me was pretentious and backstabbing enough without me giving them extra fodder. The rumors rumbling through The State Building at my departure were already weighing the senator down. It was the reason I was a bag of both regret and relief on my last day.
I pushed my shaking legs into action and stumbled down the hall. As I ducked my head in and grabbed the umbrella, the sound of my name halted me.
“I can’t believe Dani actually left.” It was Gary. He was fairly new, and fairly clueless, but likable in a guileless way.
“It should have happened long before now.” That was Charles. Obnoxious, conceited, and perfect for The Hill, Charles.
“What? Why?”
“It’s hard to trust her after the whole Fenway debacle,” Charles’s voice dripped with condescension.
“What do you mean?” Gary asked.
Charles lowered his voice as he told the story to the newbie. I leaned in to catch the words. “I heard it was a setup. The entire event was orchestrated by Dani to get Fenway kicked out of office.”
My heart stopped and started again, anger flooding the blood vessels which were barely recovering from the panic moments before. I was so tired of this conversation. I was tired of the gossip. Nothing in my life had been the same since that night.
“You’re talking about the guy who attacked her?” Gary’s voice was awash with surprise. “That wasn’t real?”
I could almost see in my mind Charles’s shrug, appearing casual but actually calculated.
“I can’t say either way,” Charles said carefully. He didn’t want to be caught in an outright lie he couldn’t take back. “I’m just telling you why it was hard to trust her. You don’t want to be the one she goes after next with some ‘me too’ bullshit.”
Before last year, I wouldn’t have lost my cool. I probably would have just walked away and gotten my revenge by piling him with so much administrative work he’d be begging me to take it away. But I didn’t have that option anymore.
I stepped into the room, my umbrella swinging back and forth.
“Let me give both you boys a bit of advice,” I said—my turn to drip sarcasm. Gary had the decency to blush and look away, but Charles just straightened his shoulders and met my gaze defiantly. “If you’re going to talk about someone, do it in one of the soundproof rooms after you’ve checked for bugs. Otherwise, every word you utter here is going to come back at you tenfold.”
I turned, got to the door, and then looked back. “And Charles, I can guarantee you a spot on the list the women of The Hill keep. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”
His eyes widened. He knew exactly what I was talking about: the confidential list shared amongst the staffers who worked for the decent and the dirtbags of Washington. It told people who to stay away from if you didn’t want to be a victim. Being on that list could make both his personal and professional life hell.
“That’s bullshit,” Charles said, stepping toward me.
I raised my umbrella, the point a few inches from his chest. “Consider it my parting gift. One last lesson, just for you.”
I swiveled around and left. I wouldn’t really put him on the list, because it was sacred, but it would at least make him sweat for a while.
Outside, I stood, looking up through the calming blue of the umbrella as the rain showered down around me. The humidity and heat worsening instead of lessening with the downpour made it harder to breathe. As if the weight of everything else wasn’t already crushing me.
Twelve years. I’d worked my ass off for twelve years on The Hill with Senator Matherton and, before that, Senator Ashley. I’d followed my grandad. I’d gathered intel, made deals, and pushed off the worst of the creepers. I’d protected both senators and kept their image positive. It had been incredibly challenging in a world still all about who you knew rather than what you knew. In a world still dominated by the Good Ol’ Boy network. I couldn’t help but wonder if it all would have been different if I’d been a man.
That night in the elevator certainly would have been different. Even with all my workouts and Dad’s trainings, I hadn’t been able to stop one determined weasel from laying his hands on me.
I shoved those thoughts aside and did what I always did these days. I took a step, and then another, and before long, I was stepping into the modern bar full of steel and glass where a crowd of staffers waited. Every single one of them was vying to be my replacement. They didn’t know I’d already given my recommendations to Guy and Granddad weeks ago.
Maddy, one of the least obnoxious of the group, waved at me, shouting out, “I saved you a seat.”
I threaded my way through the crowd, returning comments, congratulations, and good lucks before I ended up perched on a high-top metal stool next to her at a small table. The only thing in the room that wasn’t a neutral gray were the mosaic tabletops and the bottles of liquor streaming with hidden lights behind the bar.
“I can’t believe you’re really leaving,” Maddy said over the rim of her scotch and soda. I could see her trying to hold back the grimace as she took a sip, her perfectly manicured nails clutching the glass tightly. She put it back down, smoothed out the lines of
