Dead Politician Society

Chapter 48: Clare

Clare toyed with her lit cigarette. She kept her eye on the creature in the mirror—the girl who stared back at her, dubious, in her new blue dress.

It fit well—which was part of the problem. Clare usually hid her small curves under loose T-shirts, and this dress clung like slinky film, making her B-cup bosom look far more ample than it was. The lady at the consignment shop had assured her it was black tie appropriate. But was it too slutty? Too cheap? Too clear that she didn’t have a clue how to mingle with high society?

Or maybe that was okay for her cover role. Maybe it was good she’d told Jessica she’d grown up in a trailer park.

Garth Brooks was in her CD player, but even “Friends in Low Places” couldn’t make her feel comfortable about tonight’s party.

Her phone rang.

“Clare? It’s Matthew.”

“Um.” She drew a blank. “Oh right. Dr. Easton.”

“I think you’re all right to use my first name.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m distracted.” She frowned at the mirror. The girl inside frowned back.

“Did I reach you at a bad time?”

“No,” Clare said. “I’m trying on a dress for tonight. Jessica Dunne invited me to this fancy party. She said to wear black tie. So I went to buy a black tie and thank god I asked the lady in the shop for some help, because she said that’s just code for ‘wear something dressy.’”

He coughed. Was he laughing at her? “She’s right.”

“Why don’t they just say ‘dress formally’ then?”

“Very good question. And you’ve already answered mine. I was calling to see if you wanted a catering job tonight. It’s probably the same event you’re getting dressed for. Jessica mentioned she was going to the environmental fundraiser at St. Lawrence Hall tonight with her family.”

“Same event.” Clare wished she’d had the invitations in reverse. “If Jessica’s family hates me, I’ll duck into the kitchen and ask for an extra uniform.”

He laughed outright this time. “You don’t need to be this nervous. It’s only dinner and they’re only people. If they hate you because you sip from the wrong side of the glass, they’re the ones with the flaw.”

“Thanks.” Clare smiled. Her reflection gave her a small smile back. “Wait—there’s a right side and a wrong side of a wine glass?”

“I was being facetious,” Matthew said. “Hey, how about we hook up later? I can calm your nerves with a full body massage.”

“You mean after the event?” Clare shivered with the memory of his hands on her hips while he thrusted from behind, pushing her against his desk. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“You want to meet at my office?”

“On a Saturday?” Was there a reason he didn’t want her at his house?

“My roommate’s cooking dinner for his girlfriend. I’m giving him some space, grading papers in my ivory tower.”

“Sounds fun. See you tonight.”