Off the Record (Record #1)(62)
Author: K.A. Linde

Liz followed Chris to an empty table and he smiled at a few people he knew. She was really surprised by how many faces she recognized. Like the governor…wasn’t he from a different party? And two basketball celebrities…had they played with Brady in college? And a news reporter from the Washington Post and another one that Liz followed from the New York Times. She knew that no press was allowed in the event, and they weren’t wearing badges or carrying equipment. Were they supporters?

Liz knew she shouldn’t be in reporter mode, but she couldn’t help it. It was who she was. Ingrained in her now. This event wasn’t open to the press, but her fingers were itching for the voice recorder and notebook she normally carried with her. She only had a deep red satin clutch with her, at Victoria’s insistence.

The day after she met Chris, she had gone shopping with Victoria at the mall and some of the local boutiques. Liz had been ready to call it quits and wear what she had, but Victoria had urged her into a few more shops. A few more shops had actually been closer to a dozen, in true Victoria style.

It had been worth it though when they had found the dress. Liz hadn’t been sure about it until Victoria had forced her to try it on. The champagne-colored silk hugged her figure seamlessly, falling to the floor, the train trailing out ever so slightly behind her. It had a square bustier top with a small V dipping between her br**sts. The beaded straps crossed her back and held up the backless ensemble, which was ruched at the base of her spine.

Miraculously, after she matched it with dark red pumps, it didn’t need any alterations. Victoria had piled Liz’s thick, blond hair up off her neck and into curls. The only jewelry on her whole body was a thin gold necklace and gold-knotted earrings.

“Champagne?” the waitress asked as she passed.

Chris glanced at Liz. “You?”

“Sure,” she said, taking a drink from the waitress.

Chris held up his hand and she moved on. “I think I’ll head to the bar and get something else. I prefer beer. Did you want something?”

Liz took a sip of her champagne and then set it down. She couldn’t get sloshed. She needed to take it easy. “I think I’m good with the champagne.”

“All right,” he said with a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Hey,” Liz said, reaching out and touching his arm. “When will Brady get here?”

Brady had told her that he wouldn’t be there when the event started, but he would make an appearance once the room started filling up. She just didn’t know when to expect him. She was already excited to see him.

“I’m sure he’ll be late to his own gig.” He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Probably in the next twenty to thirty minutes if we’re lucky. The sooner he gets here, the sooner we leave.”

Liz giggled and shook her head. “What? Afraid of getting pawned off to someone’s son again?”

“Don’t get me started. I’ll tell you that story later, and then you won’t be laughing!” he said before turning and walking toward the bar.

Liz took another drink of her champagne and went back to people watching. Brady would be here in the next twenty minutes or so, which meant she had a little bit of time to size up the crowd.

She figured she was the youngest person in the room besides Savannah, whom she picked out in an Anne Boleyn green dress across the room. Most of the donors in the room who contributed to Brady’s campaign were up-and-comers riding the bandwagon of success. There were a sizable number of older individuals, women primarily, who all seemed to know one another. She was pretty sure she recognized some of them from her table at the Jefferson-Jackson event.

“Find what you’re looking for?” a voice drawled softly into her ear.

She turned around slowly and looked up into an oddly familiar face, but not the one she had been expecting. Where had she seen this person before? He had short blond hair, beautiful blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks. So familiar…yet she couldn’t place him.

“I wasn’t looking for anything,” she covered quickly, flushing.

“For you,” he said, offering her a glass half-full of dark liquid.

Some guy was bringing her a drink…out of nowhere. That felt oddly familiar as well.

“Um…thanks,” she said, taking it out of his hand.

He chuckled, those cute dimples returning. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Busted! “No, sorry. You do look really familiar…”

“We met on the Fourth of July,” he offered. “You were having a medical emergency. Claustrophobic, if I remember correctly. How are you handling this event?” he asked amicably.

“Oh my God, that’s right! So sorry! I was kind of having a moment,” she said.

If only he knew what kind of moment…

“You seem all right now,” he drawled.

“Much better.”

He smiled down at her, and she noticed how handsome he was. “So, what do you think about the party? A bit different from the Fourth of July atmosphere.”

“It’s classy. I’m just glad it’s not red-white-and-blue,” she said.

“Ah, how exceptionally unpatriotic,” he teased.

“Well, what do you think about it, then?” Liz demanded, taking a sip of the drink he had brought over to her. She smiled as the whiskey slid down her throat.

“Hmm…the truth?” he asked with a devilish grin.

“Of course.”

“I think the decorations are a bit overdone, the crowd is a bit stiff, and the candidate is a pompous ass**le. But hey, we don’t vote on character, do we?”

Liz nearly choked on her drink. Had he really just called Brady a pompous ass**le? She would have laughed, since it was something she would have thought two months ago, but she didn’t think that anymore. She knew Brady too well to think that was true.

“Good to see you think so highly of your representative,” she said, biting back a smile.

“Don’t believe all of that. They don’t represent us. They represent themselves and business and some of the people in this room who give them a lot of money,” he told her as a matter of fact.

“What a jaded view of the political process,” Liz said. She’d had similar thoughts before, but that was why she was in journalism and not politics. She couldn’t deal with the insincerity and duplicity herself. She would rather report on it.

“Only honest one you’ll get in here tonight, and don’t forget it,” he said, gesturing to the crowd.