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Authors: James W. Huston
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noticed. He caught the scent of her perfume and thought it might be a good sign, since she rarely wore a scent. He also knew that he would have to maintain the appearance of perpetual nonchalance.
They went way back—Dillon, Molly, and Bobby Nichols, who came in a few minutes after Molly. They had gone to law school together at the University of Virginia and had been in the same study group, commonly known as Dillon’s Study Group.
He and Bobby had been close friends, sharing dreams and fears. They had played basketball and taken classes together during the last two years of law school. There wasn’t any ambiguity or conflict about their friendship. When Dillon moved to Washington, reuniting three fourths of their study group—the fourth, Erin, had gone to New York—he had reestablished his friendship with Bobby. He frequently walked across the street from the
Capitol building to the Supreme Court where Bobby was the Chief Justice’s clerk. Bobby and Dillon would play basketball in the Supreme Court gym.
But with Molly it had been different. They had been rivals: intellectual, political, and academic. Even though they were very close and had feelings for each other that were often confusing, those feelings had for the most part gone unexpressed. They had dated a few times, and Dillon had found her not only stunningly beautiful but also challenging. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. But for a reason he couldn’t identify he wouldn’t let her get close to him. After three years of ambiguity and unexpressed feelings, they had graduated and gone their separate ways, each knowing that they could become more than friends if they made the effort, but neither wanting to be first. That was four years ago. Now they were back in Washington on opposite sides of everything.
“Y’all mind if we turn on the damned game?” Bobby asked as he took off his jacket and threw it in the corner. “Got any food?” He turned on the television and changed the channel. The noise from the fans filled the room. “I’m starved,” he said as he sat down on the couch beside Molly and Dillon. “Got any brew?”
Dillon looked at him, “Why, I’m fine. Thank you. Nice of you to ask. Yeah, I’ve got brew. Get it yourself.”
Bobby smiled enthusiastically and got up. As he walked into the kitchen, he yelled over his shoulder, “Hey, what about Indonesia? What is that ?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about that,” Dillon replied as he reached out to turn down the television. “It doesn’t look like the usual terrorist game at all.”
“People are pretty uptight at the White House,” Molly added. “I just can’t imagine what they hope to accomplish by taking an American ship.”
“Notoriety, I guess. I just hope they’re able to get the Americans off the ship without anybody getting hurt. What do you think will come of it?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “I’m not even sure what happened.”
“How are things at the White House?” Bobby asked Molly as he returned and sat in the overstuffed chair next to the couch, placing three beers in front of them. Although the Chief Justice of the United States, for whom Bobby worked, had been appointed by President Manchester and was therefore automatically expected to be liberal, Bobby wasn’t.
People’s politics were important but not critical to Molly. She was more interested in their integrity and honesty. “Fine. How are things at the Big Court?”
“Fine.”
“Okay. We got that out of the way,” she said.
They watched the second half of the game between the University of Virginia and North Carolina and tried not to think about the hijacking that dominated the thoughts of each of them, particularly how each might be involved.
Dillon went into the kitchen to get some snacks.
“You dating anyone?” Molly asked Bobby.
“Not a soul. You’d think that in Washington, D.C., capital of the country and the world headquarters for professional black
They went way back—Dillon, Molly, and Bobby Nichols, who came in a few minutes after Molly. They had gone to law school together at the University of Virginia and had been in the same study group, commonly known as Dillon’s Study Group.
He and Bobby had been close friends, sharing dreams and fears. They had played basketball and taken classes together during the last two years of law school. There wasn’t any ambiguity or conflict about their friendship. When Dillon moved to Washington, reuniting three fourths of their study group—the fourth, Erin, had gone to New York—he had reestablished his friendship with Bobby. He frequently walked across the street from the
Capitol building to the Supreme Court where Bobby was the Chief Justice’s clerk. Bobby and Dillon would play basketball in the Supreme Court gym.
But with Molly it had been different. They had been rivals: intellectual, political, and academic. Even though they were very close and had feelings for each other that were often confusing, those feelings had for the most part gone unexpressed. They had dated a few times, and Dillon had found her not only stunningly beautiful but also challenging. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman. But for a reason he couldn’t identify he wouldn’t let her get close to him. After three years of ambiguity and unexpressed feelings, they had graduated and gone their separate ways, each knowing that they could become more than friends if they made the effort, but neither wanting to be first. That was four years ago. Now they were back in Washington on opposite sides of everything.
“Y’all mind if we turn on the damned game?” Bobby asked as he took off his jacket and threw it in the corner. “Got any food?” He turned on the television and changed the channel. The noise from the fans filled the room. “I’m starved,” he said as he sat down on the couch beside Molly and Dillon. “Got any brew?”
Dillon looked at him, “Why, I’m fine. Thank you. Nice of you to ask. Yeah, I’ve got brew. Get it yourself.”
Bobby smiled enthusiastically and got up. As he walked into the kitchen, he yelled over his shoulder, “Hey, what about Indonesia? What is that ?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about that,” Dillon replied as he reached out to turn down the television. “It doesn’t look like the usual terrorist game at all.”
“People are pretty uptight at the White House,” Molly added. “I just can’t imagine what they hope to accomplish by taking an American ship.”
“Notoriety, I guess. I just hope they’re able to get the Americans off the ship without anybody getting hurt. What do you think will come of it?”
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “I’m not even sure what happened.”
“How are things at the White House?” Bobby asked Molly as he returned and sat in the overstuffed chair next to the couch, placing three beers in front of them. Although the Chief Justice of the United States, for whom Bobby worked, had been appointed by President Manchester and was therefore automatically expected to be liberal, Bobby wasn’t.
People’s politics were important but not critical to Molly. She was more interested in their integrity and honesty. “Fine. How are things at the Big Court?”
“Fine.”
“Okay. We got that out of the way,” she said.
They watched the second half of the game between the University of Virginia and North Carolina and tried not to think about the hijacking that dominated the thoughts of each of them, particularly how each might be involved.
Dillon went into the kitchen to get some snacks.
“You dating anyone?” Molly asked Bobby.
“Not a soul. You’d think that in Washington, D.C., capital of the country and the world headquarters for professional black
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