bridge and talk politely about politics? These people had credentials and a reason to be here! They werent insecure nobodies, and honestly, if Tom wasnt blocking her exit, shed turn and run out the door.
But she was stuck right where she stood, feeling ridiculous with her little tiara-in-the purse routine, until a small woman with short, magenta-streaked hair, army-surplus cargo pants, and a T-shirt that said Keep Austin Weird stood up and asked, Tom, did you want to order pizza?
Yes, please, Angie! Rebecca, Id like you to meet Gilbert, Pat, and Angie, my paid campaign staff, he said (Rebecca couldnt help noticing the one with the helmet-hair, Pat, rolled her eyes at that). And you met Matt, he
added. So we thought wed have a late-afternoon powwow. Angie, see what everyone wants on their pizza, will you? he asked, shrugging out of his coat. Just have a seat there, Rebecca, he said as he pointed to a chair at the conference table.
Unable to gracefully extract herself now, Rebecca sat like the good little girl that she was, but caught a glimpse of the Big Shot, who, having recovered from his shock that she wasnt really after him, but merely a former beauty queen playing at politics, was looking at her now like she was some sort of freak. Tom ... a word please? he said low, and grabbed Tom by the elbow and dragged him to the corner of the room for a little tete-a-tete.
Uh-huh, she could just imagine what that was about. It was obvious to her that the states best litigator was busy making sure Tom understood that not only was she a fraud and had no business being here, but had probably thrown in a couple of terms like stalker and lunatic for good measure. She stole a glimpse at him again. Wow. He was really giving Tom an earful. In spite of having spent one entire evening reading Face Value: The Art of Reading Friends and Strangers, whose author would undoubtedly insist that Matt had something more important to speak to Tom about than her, that most people went around thinking about themselves and not her, and that what looked like a heated discussion really had nothing to do with her, Rebecca was pretty sure that it did. Call it womans intuition (which Our Bodies, Our Minds, Our Hearts would say was a much more accurate perception), but Rebecca was pretty sure their conversation had everything to do with her.
Anchovies?
What? she asked, startled by the question suddenly put to her.
Do you want anchovies?
It was Gilbert, a guy with bed-head that looked 100 percent natural instead of affected, trying to gag her with anchovies. I, ah ... whatever the group wants, she said, pasting a smile on her face.
Gilbert plopped down next to her. They all want
anchovies. Angies already ordered it. So no shit, you were Miss Texas?
No shit. Yes, she said politely.
Cool, he said, nodding. Like, way cool.
Rebecca didnt know anymore if it was cool or not. She chalked that title up to something else Bud had made her do, as if the title of Miss Texas made her worthy to be his wife. What a stupid girl she had been then, her stupidity eclipsed only by her stupidity now. Stupid, stupid. . .
Hey, ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work? Tom called to everyone.
Apparently, Tom and Matt had finished their little talk, because Tom was sauntering back to the table. He winked at Rebecca, fell onto a plush leather chair sporting a giant seal of the State of Texas, and grinned at his little group. Ready to talk campaigns? he asked, to which they all nodded. Rebecca? You ready?
Oh suuure, she was ready! She did this all the time! Of course, she said as Matt seated himself directly across the table from her. She could feel his gaze burning a hole right through her as Tom turned his attention to the others, and thought he could definitely lighten up. She knew she didnt belong here, but it wasnt exactly the end of the world, and she returned his intense gaze with a small smile and the lifting of her chin.
Okay, people, Tom called. Lets get
But she was stuck right where she stood, feeling ridiculous with her little tiara-in-the purse routine, until a small woman with short, magenta-streaked hair, army-surplus cargo pants, and a T-shirt that said Keep Austin Weird stood up and asked, Tom, did you want to order pizza?
Yes, please, Angie! Rebecca, Id like you to meet Gilbert, Pat, and Angie, my paid campaign staff, he said (Rebecca couldnt help noticing the one with the helmet-hair, Pat, rolled her eyes at that). And you met Matt, he
added. So we thought wed have a late-afternoon powwow. Angie, see what everyone wants on their pizza, will you? he asked, shrugging out of his coat. Just have a seat there, Rebecca, he said as he pointed to a chair at the conference table.
Unable to gracefully extract herself now, Rebecca sat like the good little girl that she was, but caught a glimpse of the Big Shot, who, having recovered from his shock that she wasnt really after him, but merely a former beauty queen playing at politics, was looking at her now like she was some sort of freak. Tom ... a word please? he said low, and grabbed Tom by the elbow and dragged him to the corner of the room for a little tete-a-tete.
Uh-huh, she could just imagine what that was about. It was obvious to her that the states best litigator was busy making sure Tom understood that not only was she a fraud and had no business being here, but had probably thrown in a couple of terms like stalker and lunatic for good measure. She stole a glimpse at him again. Wow. He was really giving Tom an earful. In spite of having spent one entire evening reading Face Value: The Art of Reading Friends and Strangers, whose author would undoubtedly insist that Matt had something more important to speak to Tom about than her, that most people went around thinking about themselves and not her, and that what looked like a heated discussion really had nothing to do with her, Rebecca was pretty sure that it did. Call it womans intuition (which Our Bodies, Our Minds, Our Hearts would say was a much more accurate perception), but Rebecca was pretty sure their conversation had everything to do with her.
Anchovies?
What? she asked, startled by the question suddenly put to her.
Do you want anchovies?
It was Gilbert, a guy with bed-head that looked 100 percent natural instead of affected, trying to gag her with anchovies. I, ah ... whatever the group wants, she said, pasting a smile on her face.
Gilbert plopped down next to her. They all want
anchovies. Angies already ordered it. So no shit, you were Miss Texas?
No shit. Yes, she said politely.
Cool, he said, nodding. Like, way cool.
Rebecca didnt know anymore if it was cool or not. She chalked that title up to something else Bud had made her do, as if the title of Miss Texas made her worthy to be his wife. What a stupid girl she had been then, her stupidity eclipsed only by her stupidity now. Stupid, stupid. . .
Hey, ready to roll up your sleeves and get to work? Tom called to everyone.
Apparently, Tom and Matt had finished their little talk, because Tom was sauntering back to the table. He winked at Rebecca, fell onto a plush leather chair sporting a giant seal of the State of Texas, and grinned at his little group. Ready to talk campaigns? he asked, to which they all nodded. Rebecca? You ready?
Oh suuure, she was ready! She did this all the time! Of course, she said as Matt seated himself directly across the table from her. She could feel his gaze burning a hole right through her as Tom turned his attention to the others, and thought he could definitely lighten up. She knew she didnt belong here, but it wasnt exactly the end of the world, and she returned his intense gaze with a small smile and the lifting of her chin.
Okay, people, Tom called. Lets get
Similar Books
