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Authors: Colette Moody

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BOOK: Parties in Congress
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“Good,” Donna said. “Go grab the video camera and make sure you have charged batteries and plenty of blank DVDs. You can head out now. Then you can follow her straight from her campaign office.”

“So I’m working all night?”

A muscle in Donna’s cheek twitched. “You can stop when you get something good.”

“What if nothing good happens tonight?”

“Then sleep in and start again tomorrow night. This is more valuable than any work you could be doing in the office.”

Bijal was both insulted and disgusted. “So now I’ll be like the paparazzi?”

Donna cleared her throat. “No, you can’t be that overt.”

“What if last night was just some random hookup?” Bijal asked.

“Then she’ll no doubt do it again,” Donna replied. “She’ll give in to her wanton cravings and you’ll be there for it.”

Bijal pondered that thought. “With any luck.” Had she just said that out loud?

Kristin rapped on the office door before timidly poking her head inside. “Donna, sorry to interrupt, but you wanted an update on the protesters outside.”

“Have they finally dispersed?” Donna asked.

Kristin’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Um, no. There are more of them now.”

Donna’s eyes took on a crazed glassiness that scared Bijal. “What? Why? I sent the mayor to an NRA rally in Hereford and told the press she wouldn’t be here today.”

“It seems that Congresswoman O’Bannon made a statement to the press about the protest and sent a catering truck full of free food. It’s out there now serving everyone. People are coming from all over for a free lunch,” Kristin said sheepishly.

Donna leapt to her feet. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” Kristin whispered, her voice apparently frightened away.

“All right, we need to get these bastards off the premises.” Donna was clearly losing her grip. “Call the cops. Someone needs to pepper-spray those fuckers!”

“But we don’t own this property,” Bijal said.

“So what? We pay rent,” Donna shouted.

“If they’re not obstructing anything, and they’re peaceful, then you need to get the landlord to ask them to leave. Do we even know who that is?”

A silence fell over the room as they all looked at each other expectantly.

“Roo,” Donna said. “Find out who it is.”

“I don’t know. That kind of research might cut into my ‘hiding in the shrubbery’ time.”

Donna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just not a team player, are you?”

Bijal was rapidly becoming worn out. “Look, why don’t you have the mayor address the crowd and give them what they want? Let her condemn the violence of that assault.”

“And risk alienating her conservative base? Are you crazy?”

Bijal bristled. “The conservatives aren’t going anywhere. Don’t you think most people would agree with denouncing an unprovoked assault?”

Another awkward silence followed that question as Donna seemed to mull something over.

“Kristin, find out who owns this building.”

Chapter Eight

Bijal sat in her Subaru across the street from Colleen’s house and pressed the Zoom button on the camcorder to try to see anyone through the living-room window. She was thankful Colleen lived in a rural area, since that reduced the risk of any vigilant neighbors noticing her voyeurism.

When her cell phone rang, Bijal set down the camera only long enough to put the call on speaker. “Hello?”

“Bijal,” Fran said, “I just wanted to let you know that the lab results came in today. They confirm that you’re completely fucking crazy for keeping that shit-ass job.”

“Thank God,” Bijal replied, picking up her lukewarm fast food. “When you said ‘lab results,’ I was afraid you’d say that you picked up crabs from one of your late-night bar trysts.”

“Ooh, someone’s a testy little stalker, I see. Are you outside her place right now?”

Bijal sighed. “Yes.”

“Is your hand down your pants?”

“No, it’s holding my quesadilla.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

Bijal was rapidly losing her sense of humor. “Fran, did you just call to give me shit, or did you have a real reason?”

“Well, personally I think that giving you shit is a real reason, but I wanted to ask if you’d seen the latest polls on your girl.”

“Yes,” Bijal replied, taking another bite. This food would have been so much better if she’d eaten within the first thirty minutes of purchase.

“So you know that y’all have dropped another three percentage points since Adolph McHatespeech’s little ‘hetero über alles’ tirade?”

“Unfortunately.”

Fran continued, undeterred. “Couple that with the embarrassment of Mayor Denton being snubbed at an NRA rally—”

“They didn’t know she was coming.”

“And having them, instead, introduce a performer who made balloon animals.”

“He was on the posted schedule,” Bijal explained lamely.

“But Pigglestink the Clown isn’t running for office, Bij.”

“Well, I hear he went over great with the kids.” Bijal set down her rather unappetizing food and looked through the camera.

“Uh-huh, I’m starting to think your candidate couldn’t beat O’Bannon in a dick-sucking contest.”

Bijal couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “Only because her husband would first declare it immoral. Then she’d probably show up on the wrong day.”

“Or she’d show up at a preschool, by mistake. So what’s your campaign’s plan to recover those voters?”

“I wish I knew, Fran. I’ve been out of the office for the last three days following Colleen around like some kind of international spy.”

“Or someone on that scuzzy TV show
Cheaters
.”

“Jesus, can’t you let me have
anything
? Not even the delusion of mystique around this demoralizing fucking job?”

Fran’s tone seemed to take on a hint of concern. “Do you think Donna just wants you out of her hair?”

“You know, I’ve considered that. I haven’t ruled it out yet.”

“So how much longer do you plan to waste your nights sitting in your car with your fingers smeared with quesadilla…juice?”

“First of all, quesadillas don’t have juice.”

“When they’re euphemisms, they do.”

“I call Donna every morning and tell her that all Colleen did the day before was work and go home. Although someone’s at her place with her right now.”

“Really?” Fran sounded intrigued. “Like a hot woman?”

“I’m not sure. I was starving so I went through a drive-thru on the way here.”

Fran laughed loudly. “You’re the shittiest international spy I know.”

“Well, so far Colleen has had a very boring, predictable routine. And I was really hungry.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, when I got here, there was an extra car in the driveway.”

“Is it a lesbian car?”

“What’s that?” Bijal asked.

“You know, does it have any classic lesbian iconography? Like a rainbow sticker that says Vagitarian or Indigo Girls…maybe a picture of a penis with a slash through it?”

Bijal zoomed in on the car. “No, it’s just a black four-door sedan. Wait, the bumper has a sticker that says Amnesty International. Damn it.”

“Yeah, those damn anti-torture, bleeding-heart bastards,” Fran said sarcastically.

“No, I just mean that it’s not very helpful.”

“Bij, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually bothered.”

“Maybe a little,” she said softly.

“And why is that?”

She blew her hair out of her eyes. “Well, partly because I think this whole thing is ridiculous. It shouldn’t matter who a candidate sees in his or her free time, unless it’s a prostitute, a drug dealer, or a minor.”

“Or maybe someone working for the opposition,” Fran added. “So what’s the other part?”

“Colleen told me she wasn’t seeing anyone. I’d be kind of sad if she lied to me.”

Fran scoffed. “Because politicians are renowned for being so honest and trustworthy.”

“I know, I know. But for some reason, I got a different kind of vibe from her. She seems somehow…authentic to me.”

“Hmm, and maybe you just really want her to be single.”

Bijal watched a smile slowly creep across her face in her sideview mirror. “Maybe.”

“Well, nothing impresses a woman with scruples and a rigid moral compass like spying on her from her rose garden. Just add stealing her credit cards to the mix and you’ll have her in your bed in a second.”

“As much as I’d love to listen to you berate me, Fran, it looks like someone’s moving around in there. I have to let you go.”

“All right, but be careful,” Fran said, exasperation evident in her voice. “I need you back as my wingman.”

“I’ll bet.”

“I’ll get your bail money ready. Call when you’re in custody.”

“Will do.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye.”

Bijal saw someone move past the window, though she couldn’t make out anything more than an adult of indeterminate gender. Colleen was tall enough that it might be her.

If only Bijal was looking into the window from the side yard, she’d have a much better view. She evaluated the possibility of getting out of her car. There wasn’t a street light nearby, and no fence to try to jump. She’d just need to hop over the drainage ditch and walk about twenty-five yards to have a perfect view into the house and see exactly who Colleen was entertaining…and how.

It seemed reasonable, so she quietly got out of the Subaru and began to creep across the street with her camcorder. She hadn’t factored in the recent heavy rain and the resulting mud. She carefully navigated the soft ground and got past the ditch before she stopped to zoom in on the window again.

Bijal could see two people embracing, and she felt like someone had just punched her in the gut. They quickly separated and moved out of her line of sight.

Suddenly the front door opened, and she panicked. A round bush large enough to shield her was directly behind her, and she lunged for it. Not taking the deep mud into account, she lost her balance as her foot slid backward, sending her into the drainage ditch, the cold water and thick mud cushioning her fall in what she imagined was probably the worst way possible.

She was motionless on her back as she heard Colleen say, “Okay, Max. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

A man’s voice (presumably this Max) answered with, “Right, have a good night,” followed by what sounded like Colleen going back into her house and shutting the door.

Bijal heard him start his car, back out of the driveway, and speed off into the distance.

This was easily her most humiliating moment, though, admittedly, there had been some real doozies. She sat up in the mud and tried to get to her feet without losing her footing again. How long would she need to wait before Colleen went to bed and she could leave? Had the mud ruined the camcorder? How the hell would she be able to get in her car without getting the interior completely filthy?

Could she make it home without wearing her pants? What were her odds of being pulled over while she was driving in nothing but her underwear? Would that help or hinder her chances of getting let off with just a warning?

She finally stood, but then heard the front door creak open again. She dove back into the ditch, this time face-down as she heard a jingling sound and rolling footsteps approaching. Apparently a wild animal was coming for her.

True to her terrible luck, she heard the animal stop near her and start barking. She looked up, and that’s when she saw the werewolf, or the coyote, or the hyena, or whatever the fuck it was. It clearly wanted to eviscerate her and then roll in her entrails.

She put her head back down in the futile hope that the beast would lose interest if it couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. It only continued to bark at her.

The door opened again.

“Callisto! What is it, girl?”

New, non-animal footsteps approached as the hellhound continued to bark.

“Did you find another possum, girl?”

Bijal recognized the voice as Colleen’s. She revised her previous assessment of her most humiliating moment as the beam from a flashlight came to rest on her as she lay in the ditch.

“Um, hello,” Bijal said, looking up. She silently prayed for a bolt of lightning to strike her and instantly turn her to a smoldering pile of cinders.

“What the hell?” Colleen asked. “Bijal? Is that you?”

“I’m sorry to say it is.”

“What are you doing in my front yard wallowing in mud?” Colleen scanned the area with the beam of her flashlight. “Ah, it’s all becoming clearer now. Is this your video camera?”

“Yes,” she answered dejectedly.

“I’m…I’m speechless. Are you hurt? Can you stand up?”

“I’d rather just lie here and continue to die a little inside.”

Colleen held her arm out. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

BOOK: Parties in Congress
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