have a clear view of the narrow pathway and marble railing that run along the west front of the building. The morning sun’s beating down on the copper roof, but it pales to the heat I’m feeling right now. I wipe a puddle of sweat from the back of my neck and unbutton the top of my shirt. The suit and tie were enough to get me back in the building without a second glance, but if I don’t get some answers soon…
“Sorry,” Gary says. “They’re not coming up.”
“Whattya mean, they’re not coming up? I thought every lobbyist had to disclose their clients…”
“They do. But this time of year… we’re barely halfway through the pile.”
“What pile?”
“The disclosure forms — that the lobbyists fill out. We get over seventeen thousand forms each registration period. Know how long that takes to scan in and update our database?”
“Weeks?”
“Months. The deadline was just a few weeks ago in August, so we’ve still got a ton that aren’t in.”
“So it’s possible there’s a lobbyist working on their issue…”
“This is Congress, sir. Anything’s possible.”
I roll my tongue inside my cheek. I hate government humor.
“They add about seven hundred names to the database each day,” Gary continues. “Best bet is to just give us a call back later in the week, and we can check if it’s in there.”
I remember that this is the second year Wendell Mining made the request. “What about last year?” I ask.
“Like I said, nothing came up — which means they either didn’t have someone, or that person didn’t register.”
That part actually makes sense. When it comes to getting earmarks, the smaller companies try to do it by themselves. Then, when they fail, they get smart and cough up the beans for a pro. If Wendell had someone pulling for them, the name’ll eventually show up in this database. “Listen, I appreciate th-”
There’s a loud knock on the door. I go silent.
“Sir, are you there?” Gary asks through the receiver.
The person knocks again. This time to the tune of
“It’s me, you shut-in!” Viv calls out. “Open up!”
I leap for the door and undo the lock. The phone cord is pulled so far, it knocks over the stack of keyboards, which go crashing to the floor as the door swings open.
“Mission accomplished, Mr. Bond. What’s next?” Viv sings, cradling the two notebooks as if she were still in high school. That’s when it hits me. She
Gary’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Sir, are you-?”
“I’m here… sorry,” I say, turning back to the phone. “Thanks for the help — I’ll give you a call next week.”
As I hang up, Viv dumps the notebooks across the desk. I was wrong before. I thought she was the girl who sits silently in the back of the class — and while that part’s true, I’m quickly starting to realize that she’s also the girl who, when she gets around people she knows, never shuts up.
“I guess you didn’t have any problems,” I say.
“You should’ve seen it! I was unstoppable — I’m telling you, it was like being in the
The jokes are coming too fast. I know a defense mechanism when I see one. She’s afraid. Even if she doesn’t know it.
“Viv…”
“You woulda been proud of me, Harris…”
“Did Dinah say anything?”
“You kidding? She was blinder than the blind guy…”
“The blind guy?”
“All I need now is a code name…”
“Barry was there?”
“… something cool, too — like Senate Grrl…”
“Viv…”
“… or Black Cat…”
“… or… or Sweet Mocha. Howbout that? Sweet Mocha. Ooh, yeah, let’s get down to Viv-ness!”
She stops midsyllable.
“You sure it was Barry?” I ask.
“I don’t know his name. He’s a blind guy with a cane and cloudy eyes…”
“What’d he say?”
“Nothing — though he kept following me as I walked. I can’t… he was slightly off… but it’s like he was trying to prove — not that it matters — but trying to prove he wasn’t that blind, y’know?”
I lunge for the phone and dial his cell. No. I hang up and start again. Go through the operator. Especially now.
Five digits later, the Capitol operator transfers me to Matthew’s old office.
“Interior,” Roxanne answers.
“Hey, Roxanne, it’s Harris.”
“Harris… how are you?”
“Fine. Can you-”
“Y’know you’re in my prayers, sweetie. Everything with Matthew…”
“No… of course. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but it’s kind of an emergency. Is Barry still floating around back there?”
Viv waves for my attention, slowly moving toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers. “Just one more stop…”
“Wait,” I call out.
She doesn’t listen. She’s having too much fun to sit around for a scolding.
“Viv!”
The door slams, and she’s gone.
“Harris?” a voice asks in my ear. I’d know it anywhere. Barry.
24
“How are you? You okay?” Barry asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I shoot back.
“With Matthew… I just figured… Where’re you calling from anyway?”
It’s the third question out of his mouth. I’m surprised it wasn’t the first.
“I’m home,” I tell him. “I just needed some time to — I just wanted to take some time.”
“I left you four messages.”
“I know… and I appreciate it — I just needed the time.”
“No, I completely understand.”
He doesn’t buy it for a second. But not because of what I said.
A few years back, some coworkers threw a surprise birthday party for Ilana Berger, press secretary for Senator Conroy. As old friends of Ilana from college, Matthew, Barry, and I were all invited, along with everyone in the Senator’s office, and seemingly everyone else on the Hill. Ilana’s friends wanted an
