Off the Record (Record #1)(18)
“Yeah. My friends call me Lane. Do your friends call you Vickie?” he asked, dropping her hand after they shook.
“No,” she said plainly.
“Oh, well, I like it. Seems to fit you,” he said with that charming smile. Liz tried to hide her own behind her hand.
“It really doesn’t,” Victoria bit back, not finding it funny at all.
“Suit yourself,” he said, turning back to Liz. “Liz, I can’t believe how well this all went. After the reception of your work, would you be interested in covering the campaign division for the paper? You’re suited for it. I’d let you take it whatever direction you see fit. Consult me, but it’s yours. I’d want you to start this summer.”
Liz couldn’t hold back her shock this time. He was handing over the entire campaign division to her! If she had thought being on the front cover was a dream, it was nothing compared to running her own column, her own division.
“What are you doing Saturday night?” he asked.
Her mouth fell open but she recovered quickly. After all that awkwardness, he was actually going to ask her on a date?
“I’m pretty open,” she managed. She could feel Victoria’s eyes on her.
“Great. There’s this gala in Charlotte that I want you to go to. I have tickets, but my parents want me back in D.C. this weekend.”
“Oh.” Her heart sank. He wanted her to work. What was wrong with her? “Yeah, that’ll be great. Just shoot me an email with the information.”
“I will. I have to run, though. Reprint!” he said with so much enthusiasm.
Liz watched him jog into the Union and disappear from sight. As soon as he was gone, she threw her head down on the table and grumbled, “Could it get any more embarrassing?”
“He could start calling you Lizzie,” Victoria suggested.
Liz cracked up despite her frustration. “I just…I swear he was going to ask me out.”
“You’ve had the hots for that guy forever, right?”
“Yeah,” Liz admitted with a shrug.
“Why don’t you make the move? I bet he’d like that,” Victoria said, as if she knew.
“I shouldn’t have to,” Liz said stubbornly.
“At least you have gala tickets,” Victoria said.
Liz rolled her eyes. “Oh, who wants to go to a political gala anyway?”
“I don’t know. You’re asking the wrong person,” Victoria replied, leaning back on her elbows and staring out across the Pit. “Just find a hot guy there and forget about your Hayden Lane problems.”
If it was only that easy…
Chapter 7
JEFFERSON-JACKSON GALA
The Charlotte Convention Center was a modern-looking glass building set in the heart of downtown Charlotte. Nothing especially fancy, but large enough to hold bigger parties and conferences, and it even boasted a few high-end car shows. It was a staple for luxury political banquets for the state.
Liz kicked her flip-flops into the car and pulled out her pumps. It was a two-hour drive from Chapel Hill, and she wasn’t about to drive that far in four-and-a-half-inch heels, especially not black leather platforms. She slid the heels onto her feet and stepped out into the parking garage. Her black satin dress fell to her knees, clinging to her athletic shape with a lace V-cut that hung softly off her shoulders. A matching black belt cinched around her waist and tied in the back, accenting her waistline. Her blond hair was loosely French braided across the front of her head and pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and she had gone for neutral makeup.
Grabbing ahold of the small gold clutch where her voice recorder was stored, she shut her car door and walked out of the parking garage. It was a short walk to the convention center, and by the look of the people walking in with her, she was headed to the right place.
Liz walked into the convention center behind a middle-aged couple holding hands and speaking in whispers. The entranceway was all high arched ceilings, long white pillars, and a red-carpeted floor leading down an extended hallway. It was impressive enough, but could use a little work to keep up with the clientele it boasted. Liz wasn’t complaining, though. She still thought it was beautiful.
She followed the couple when they took a right down a hallway that opened up into a decent-sized ballroom. It was filled with several dozen white-clothed tables fit to seat eight. Each white-draped chair was tied around the middle with alternating red and blue ribbons. A bouquet of white flowers with faint red and blue accents rested in the center of each of the tables. A dance floor was completely open in the very center of the room, and a small stage was constructed directly opposite the entrance with an American flag banner across the back, two projection screens with the Jefferson-Jackson gala logo on display, and a large wooden podium. Chairs were already filling up as guests took their seats.
Liz wasn’t sure how Hayden had acquired the ticket, because she wasn’t seated in the back, where the reporters typically sat for press events. Not that she was working tonight. Well, not exactly. She wasn’t carrying around a camera, at least, and the voice recorder was only for extreme circumstances. She was there primarily to listen, make contacts, and gather information on where she should be the rest of the summer for her later articles, not to write anything specifically about the event.
Hayden had handed over the campaign to her. It was all a bit overwhelming, and she had spent all week plotting out her summer classes and the political appearances she would have to attend. Hayden had given her a list he had already compiled, but he had been planning to add to that after the JJ gala. Now that was her job.