Buffalo West Wing (9 page)

Her bright blue eyes flashed with anger, but she spoke kindly. “To end this siege with the safe release of all the hostages, of course,” she said. “Why are
you
here?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned away again and made it into the beige trailer without another comment.

“I like her,” I said.

“Do you think she’ll do any good?”

I thought about the laundry ladies—my friends—SueJean, Lisa, and the others who probably had no idea of what was going on outside the hospital. Those people were probably doing their best just to stay alive right now. “Let’s hope so.”

CHAPTER 8

THAT EVENING, CYAN AND I RELAXED AT THE upscale bar, Fizz, just across Lafayette Park. Set in the basement of one of D.C.’s premier hotels, it was the perfect place to have a private conversation without fear of distraction. With expensive drinks and a hard-to-find location, this particular bar eschewed easy popularity, preferring to lure patrons in with its traditional décor and old-fashioned class. With heavy furnishings, an ornately carved ceiling, and soft instrumental background music, Fizz hadn’t changed much from its original design. Except for Wi-Fi capabilities and the flat-screen TV above the bar, patrons might have felt magically transported back to the 1920s.

Billy, the bartender, waved hello and indicated for us to take any open table. I chose one near the center of the room and across from the bar, because the tables immediately flanking it were empty. I sensed Cyan wanted as much privacy as possible. I scooched into the booth side with my back to the red-cushioned wall. Cyan took the matching wing chair facing me. A moment later, Billy appeared at our table. Bald, tall, and quick with a smile, he placed cocktail napkins on the table before us. “I haven’t seen you two for a while. Busy with the new boss, I’ll bet. You heard anything else about your people being held hostage?”

“Nothing but what they’re showing on TV,” I said.

He knew we couldn’t share any privileged information, but I appreciated his attempts to make conversation nonetheless. “How’s business?” I asked.

Billy grinned. “Hopping,” he said. And indeed it was. The bar was busier than I’d seen it before, filled with recognizable movers and shakers interspersed with tourists who could afford this exclusive hotel’s rates. We made a little small talk, and placed our drink orders.

While he was gone, Cyan took a slow look around the room and commented on a couple of senators having a quiet but heated discussion in the corner. “Wonder what’s up with them.”

“I’m wondering what’s up with you,” I said.

She met my gaze, then let hers fall to the table, where she made little circles with her finger on the glossy wood. “I can’t believe I made such a stupid mistake,” she said finally.

“Let’s not dwell on it,” I said. “The situation is in good hands, and for now at least, your job is safe.”

“For now,” she repeated.

“You’ve got more on your mind, haven’t you?”

Cyan’s eyes teared up. She glanced from side to side and hunched her shoulders. Her voice cracked, but she tried to smile. “Good thing I have my back to the room, huh?” She shook her head. “What is wrong with me? It seems all I ever do these days is cry.”

Billy returned with my gewürztraminer and Cyan’s merlot. He started to chitchat. “You ladies have been through a lot these past few days. Tonight’s on me. Order something from the kitchen. I know our chef would appreciate the opportunity to test some of his new creations on you two.” At that point, Billy noticed Cyan’s face and took a step back. “Like I said, everything is on the house tonight. Just signal if you need me.”

I thanked him and promised we would and he left us. “What’s going on, Cyan? Is it Rafe?”

She nodded, then shook her head. Taking a moment to compose herself, she said, “I know Saturday is your day off, but can I trade with you? I’ve got ...”

Her composure crumbled.

I reached across to squeeze her hand. “What’s wrong?”

She squeezed back, then pulled away to cover her face. “This is so embarrassing,” she whispered. “Is anyone looking at me?”

Worry bubbled up inside me. “You know this place. Nobody pays attention to anyone else.” She seemed unconvinced, so I added, “Nobody is looking.”

She bit her lip, then began to talk. “I told you about my mom the other day,” she said. “What I didn’t tell you was how bad it really is. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s—over a year ago—and she’s not safe by herself anymore. I’ve had to hire people to come stay with her while I’m at work, but even so, she came close to starting a fire in the kitchen. She just doesn’t understand things anymore.”

“I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. I mean, you never come in and share any problems you’re facing, unless it has something to do with the White House. Neither does Bucky. I didn’t want to bring my family problems into the kitchen. I didn’t want you to think I might make mistakes because my mind was elsewhere. But it looks like that’s exactly what I did.”

As much as I wanted to disagree, I couldn’t.

“I’ve been dealing with my mom for a while now. It’s getting to be too much for me to handle on my own.”

I waited.

“I found a nursing home that will take her. It’s wildly expensive, but comes highly recommended. I’m supposed to bring her there on Saturday. That’s why I can’t work.”

“I understand. No problem. I don’t have any plans that day. You take as much time as you need for your mom.”

She sniffed. “Thanks, Ollie. I knew you’d understand.”

I waited. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

It took her another long moment to answer and when she finally did, her words came out fast and breathless as though she’d harbored so much for so long and was finally able to release. “I keep thinking about Rafe and how much fun he’s having in New York. I mean, he’s getting all sorts of exposure in newspapers and magazines. Maybe he made the right move.” Her face was tight with misery. “Maybe it’s stupid for me to stay here. What if they let me go? Wouldn’t it be better for me to leave before they fire me? Maybe Rafe could get me in at his hotel.” Her eyes brightened slightly, then immediately dimmed. “But I can’t leave my mom.”

I decided to tread carefully. “I thought you said things had changed between you and Rafe now that he’s getting so much press. Didn’t you tell me he’s not even returning your texts anymore?”

“He asked me to go with him when he first got offered the job.”

I knew that. But I also knew that had been more than six months ago and from what I could tell, Rafe had moved on. “Cyan,” I began, “you had no interest in moving to New York until all this hit. You said you couldn’t be happy in that environment. Don’t you think you should ride out the storm and see what happens first?”

She wrinkled her nose, and I recognized it as her attempt to keep tears from starting up again. “It’s just that now, with all this going on at the White House and with my mom ... I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore.”

I understood. “You know I’ll do my best to keep you in the kitchen. I depend on you.”

“Oh, Ollie, of course I know that.” She tried to smile as she wiped her eyes. “Maybe I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself, huh?”

“Maybe you just need a break. And a shot of good news.”

“A shot of good news?” She took a sip of her merlot. “I guess I should have ordered that instead of this.”

“A couple of our new agents are kinda cute. We’ve got Bost ...”

She wrinkled her nose. “You mean Mister Stuck on Himself?”

“What about Gardez? That Spanish accent makes me weak in the knees.”

She laughed. “You? I thought you were sworn off men since you broke up with Tom.”

I held up a finger. “I’m not ready for a relationship,” I said, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice the cuties. And speaking of noticing, don’t think I missed you flirting with Gardez and Nourie.”

For the first time all night, Cyan’s mood lightened. “Aha! I knew it. You have your eye on one of them, don’t you?”

I laughed. “Not a chance. But they are both really good-looking. Any idea if they’re married?”

She shrugged. “Matthew isn’t. Alberto might be. Haven’t found out yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Matthew?” I asked. “Alberto?”

Cyan’s cheeks went pink and it wasn’t from the merlot. “Their first names. Alberto—that’s Gardez—is so sexy, but doesn’t even know I exist. I like Matthew—Agent Nourie—better. He at least seems willing to hold a conversation.”

I thought about Tom. He and I used to talk all the time before we started going out. Now, we barely spoke. “I envy you,” I said. “You’re open to a new romance and that’s fun. I just ... don’t have time for anything like that.”

“Only because you don’t want to.”

“My career is too important—”

“Careers aren’t everything,” she said. In her effort to help me with the problems she perceived I had, she had temporarily forgotten her own. “I don’t think it would hurt you to flirt a little.”

“With Nourie and Gardez?” I asked. “No thanks. I’ve had enough with Secret Service agents.”

She leaned close and lowered her voice. “How about with the guy sitting to your far right? He’s been watching you since we sat down.”

Instinctively, I glanced over to see a fortysomething man in a business suit looking right at me. Carrying about thirty extra pounds, he had bushier eyebrows and slightly bigger ears than his head warranted, but his dark hair and five o’clock shadow combined to form a handsome enough package. I would probably refer to him as cute.

Instead of averting his gaze, he smiled and lifted his glass in a silent toast. He was about three tables away, too far to start a conversation. I didn’t know what to do, so I lifted my glass of wine in response and turned back to Cyan, who was suddenly cheerful. “See?” she said. “I think he wants to meet you.”

I didn’t want to make it look as though we were talking about him, so I kept a smile on my face and said, “No way.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not about to introduce myself to a man in a bar, okay?”

“This is not your ordinary pick-up bar.”

That I knew. “Which is why I don’t think he’s being anything more than friendly.”

“You are so naïve.”

Cyan was younger than me by a couple of years. Having her tell me I was naïve made me laugh. In my peripheral vision I saw the mystery man stand up and make his way over to the bar, where he spoke with Billy. “He’s probably settling his bill and leaving, so we can just forget about him,” I said.

Just as I predicted, he left.

Billy came to our table a moment later with a tray of fresh drinks. “From an admirer,” he said, winking at me.

Cyan sat up. “The guy who just left?”

Billy nodded. “He knew who you two were, and asked me to extend his compliments to both chefs.”

“Who was he?” I asked.

Billy shook his head. “Never saw him before. But he seemed to be paying particular attention to you, Ollie.”

Cyan tapped my arm. “See, I bet he wanted to ask you out.”

Billy lowered his voice. “I’ve been a bartender for a long time,” he said. “No offense, Ollie, but I don’t think he was eyeing you for a date. He seemed interested in you in a completely different way.”

“Different how?”

“Don’t know. Just different. Like he was studying you.”

“Did he say anything unusual?”

“Just that he was a great fan of yours.”

“Wonderful,” I said, making light of it. “Instead of a suitor, I’ve got a stalker.”

Billy shrugged. “He seemed harmless enough. But if he comes back, I’ll try to find out more.”

“Is he staying at the hotel?”

“Don’t know. He didn’t charge anything to a room.”

“Thanks, Billy,” I said. “Nice to know you’re watching out for us.”

Cyan beamed as Billy left us to our fresh drinks and further conversation. “You really need to start thinking about getting out again,” she said. “If you don’t make some progress soon, I’m going to start setting you up.”

It was an empty threat, and we both knew it. But I was grateful to see Cyan cheerful again. I was about to ask who her first choice would be when a scene on the TV caught my eye. A bearded man struggled to break free from the four policemen holding him. Close-captioning allowed me to read his shouts: “This is not over! We will prevail!”

I recognized the background. Hurrying to the bar, I said, “Turn that up.”

“What is it?” Billy asked.

Cyan had followed me. “It’s the hospital,” she said.

Billy turned up the TV’s volume. A few other patrons came to stand next to us and watch.

A news reporter spoke solemnly. “Again, we repeat: The Lyman Hall Hospital standoff is over. The siege has ended and we are now waiting for word on the hostages’ condition. Updates should be coming very soon.”

An anchorwoman chimed in from offscreen. “Allen, do we know yet if this result is due to the efforts of Congresswoman Sechrest?”