Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(39)

CHAPTER THIRTY

SAL

Meghan walks fast. I know everyone here does, and maybe it’s a city thing, but I can barely keep up with her as she flies down the halls, her heels clacking with each step. We’re both dressed up a little more than usual today—her in a short black dress and thick makeup, me in my charcoal gray suit jacket and emerald green bow tie.

My feet hurt. I’m not used to wearing dress shoes for multiple days a week, and my smartwatch says I’ve walked an average of five miles a day—and that’s just up and down the halls of the Capitol. My job feels important: I’m taking constituents on Capitol tours, I’m making sure the chief of staff gets to his meetings on time, and usually as I’m walking, I’m calling airlines to change the senator’s flights on a second professional iPhone I have on lease from the Capitol.

It’s only been a week, and I already have his birth date and passport number memorized.

But I do have a problem. Well, two: Josh and April.

They hate their job. All they do is answer phones and get yelled at all day, and even though they get to leave work right at five, they seem to be spending most of the day in agony. There are times I really do want to swap places with them, to be the one talking to constituents, to try to figure out what’s making them tick and find the root of the problem, and maybe that’s how they started too. But now it’s just a short greeting, a quick tally of whether the caller supports whatever they’re calling about, and a rushed goodbye. I’m starting to feel their resentment every time I enter the room, and the worst thing about it is I don’t blame them at all.

“A Lyft is waiting for us,” Meghan says. “We’ll get to the Decatur House a little early, but that should be fine. I always like to get the lay of the land before the senator gets there. Are you excited to meet him?”

“Yeah, definitely,” I say. “I wish the others could meet him too.”

“The other interns? They will, eventually. You know how it is.”

I nod, mostly because it seems like the right thing to do. I don’t really know how anything goes here, but from what I can tell, the senator doesn’t get much time in the office, and the other interns don’t get much time outside the office.

We pull up next to Lafayette Park, beyond which I can see the White House. Tourists and protestors alike stand alongside the fence, but something about this hits differently. I’m walking by the White House not as a tourist, like I did on my first day here. I’m doing it as someone who lives here, even if it’s temporary. I’m doing it as someone who works here. And I could get used to this.

Meghan and I put on our shades, and she leads me toward the Decatur House, which is this somewhat unassuming historic brick building at the corner of the park that sits outside the White House. She walks confidently, and I mirror her gait, trying to fit in but also trying on this new DC life. This could be me in a matter of years. Even though it’s only week one, I can see that. And I’ve been so mixed up, I almost forget why I ever hesitated.

But then I remember Gabriel. And the boys. And how I really haven’t dipped into the group chat at all this week.

We step inside the building, though, and it wipes my mind clean of all regrets. It’s such a beautiful, historic building, and suddenly I know what I’m doing is important and lucky, and my friends will just have to understand.

“This is … so cool,” I say, wishing I could describe my feelings in a slightly more mature way.

“Never gets old,” Meghan replies. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I get extremely burnt out. But every time I get overwhelmed with my job, I try to take in these experiences.”

We’re some of the first ones to arrive, and Meghan talks with the event manager for a minute, confirming schedules and seats and whether the senator’s gluten-free meal is still being provided.

“We’re all good,” the event manager says, his voice calming and confident. “We’ll even be placing a gluten-free roll at his seat.”

“You’re the best!” Meghan gives him a quick one-arm hug. They start walking down the hall, and she gestures for me to follow them. “Can I see the seating chart?”

“I figured you’d ask that,” he says while pulling a folded paper out of his breast pocket. “We shouldn’t have any problems—I know Senator Wright’s seating preferences by now, but let me know if you have any questions.”

“You start to get to know the events people really well in this job,” Meghan says with a laugh after he leaves. We take a turn past an old grand piano, and she leads me to a door that opens to a shaded, tented outdoor area. “Sorry, next time I’ll introduce you. Okay, the boss is at table one. You and I will be in the back with some of the other congressional staff.”

“What is this event, again?” I ask with a hint of embarrassment. “I know you told me, but all the events are starting to run together.”

“You should have gotten a calendar invite about it, but the luncheon is for the senators on the”—she pauses to think—“Housing, Transportation, and Community Development subcommittee, along with some of the nonprofit political organizations here. It’s meant to be some open dialogue between the subcommittee and lobbyists from those groups.”

“Got it,” I say, though I don’t know what any of this means. I’ll figure it out.