8
Lolexis
The next morning I felt slick pulling into the last available spot in the parking lot and slipping in the campaign headquarters’ unmarked back door. Especially since I opened it right as Logan was passing by, and he jumped back in surprise, almost falling into the wall.
“Boo.”
“Shit, you’re here.” He shook himself and righted his tie. “I thought you’d come in the front.”
“I have been told I’m a bit wild,” I said, trying it on. “Unpredictable Alexis.” I’d woken up in a great mood—perhaps because I’d gone on a euphoric beverage bender after I’d called Nora to say yes and she’d asked me to come in bright and early to discuss logistics, which I’d arranged quickly with Muriel, who agreed to hold down the fort at the library. It was either the liquid courage, the idea that Zoey—an actual human woman in her twenties—wanted to be my friend, or the fact that Nora had agreed to my terms, just like Zoey predicted, that was causing this warm, fizzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. And it had positively bubbled over upon finding Logan, the exact person I’d been thinking of, delivered on a silver platter.
What was in those drinks? There was no way this feeling was legal.
“You were supposed to come in the front,” he repeated. He looked like he was going to keep harping on it, but I leaned in and dropped my eyes to his chest, and he abruptly stopped.
“Is that the same suit you were wearing yesterday? Don’t tell me you slept in your office.” Two staffers in rapid-fire conversation hurtled by, giving me wide-eyed looks. Come to think of it... I peered around the corner. The whole office seemed to be in a tizzy. There were people buzzing everywhere, some of them speaking into walkie-talkies. Was this a normal day?
Logan stepped out of the way as more staffers hurried past. “It’s a different suit,” he said curtly. “But also the same. I don’t have time to think about fashion, so Nora made me a uniform. I own five of the same suits.” He looked at me like he was waiting for me to give him hell.
“Huh. You should talk to my sister’s chief of staff, Ben Laderman. He’s very fashionable. He could give you tips.”
“I know,” Logan said bitterly. “Nora used him for something called inspo. Made a whole posterboard about it. Exceptionally annoying.” He tilted his head and gave me a suspicious once-over. “What’s got you in such a good mood? Did you look outside?”
“Did Nora tell you I asked for a blank check request? Anything I want?”
“Anything within our power,” he clarified, like the stickler for details I could tell, from Googling his policy proposals, he was. Logan shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I didn’t think you’d say yes,” he added in a quieter voice. “I didn’t let myself... I mean, I was surprised. So, thank you.”
I think it occurred to both of us at the same time, because all of a sudden I could feel my face heat, and Logan swallowed thickly and looked away. “I guess we’re technically...”
He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. But his body leaned incrementally in my direction. “Dating,” he finished. “I mean, as far as the world is concerned...” His eyes slid to mine. Such a warm brown. Such long lashes. The way he was looking at me was like the first night in the hotel lobby, that moment of magnetic possibility when I’d wondered if he would reach out and touch me—
“There you are!” Nora hustled through the hall at an impressive speed given her sky-high heels. Logan and I startled to attention, and he took a discreet step back. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought you were coming ten minutes ago, through the front!”
What was with this coming through the front business? “I was just talking to Logan—”
She whipped to him. “You told her?”
“Told me what?”
Nora shook her head, incredulous. “You didn’t—”
“I was going to!” Logan burst. “But then she...” He waved a hand. “Distracted me.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Save the romance for the cameras.”
“That wasn’t a line,” he protested. “I only mean whenever she starts talking, I lose my train of thought. I’m working on it.”
“Good. Because I need your A game.” Nora turned to me and looped an arm through mine. “Walk with me.”
Apparently, I didn’t have a choice, because she was already tugging me forward. “Here’s the thing. I know we were supposed to talk logistics this morning. But then we got wind that Governor Mane’s team is holding a press conference. Rumor is it’s about you and Logan. So, change of plans.”
We wound past all the desks, dodging staffers as they ran to make copies or deliver armfuls of water bottles. “We’re going to have to put you and Logan on fast. As in, now.”
I stopped in my tracks, causing Nora to spring back like a rubber band. “What do you mean, put us on?”
She brushed her long French braid over her shoulder. “We have to scoop Mane. Hold our own press conference before his. Whoever speaks first will own the conversation.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. I’d thought this morning would be about discussing rules and conditions, all the fine details, including my blank check request. No one had said anything about being thrust into the spotlight. In an instant, the warm feeling in my stomach was replaced with wild butterflies. “You want me to talk to reporters?”
“Logan will do most of the talking. But—” She held out her hand. Amazingly, a staffer walked up from the copy machine and placed a piece of paper in it like clockwork. “We have your talking points right here.” She side-eyed me. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
My mouth dropped open. “No one told me—”
“Okay, okay, forget I said anything.” She waved. “Come on, we’re tight on time. I was hoping you’d come in through the front so the reporters could see you.”
“What do I even say to them?” I’d watched some of Lee’s press conferences. There was that nice controlled part at the beginning when she talked, sure, but after that it always exploded into pandemonium, reporters hurling questions like baseballs, trying to strike her out. I couldn’t handle that level of confrontation—I was terrified even thinking about public speaking. Besides, I hadn’t even been trained. There was going to be training, right? Last night before bed I’d pictured it as some sort of Karate Kid–style montage where I slowly improved over the course of one bitching song from the eighties.
“What did we decide on?” Nora studied the sheet. “Oh, right. You and Logan met a year ago when he started attending campaign events in support of your sister.”
“He did?”
“Yup. Rallied for her hard. A total coincidence, but we’ve got that on record, so that’ll check out nicely. He’s the one who approached you after a town hall and struck up a conversation—we’re painting you as the shy one.”
“I think I can handle that.”
She scanned farther down the sheet. “The two of you bonded over your shared passion for community engagement, improving literacy, and...children’s fantasy novels. Is that last one a joke? Logan added it. Sometimes I can’t tell when he’s joking or not. It’s the quasi-British delivery.”
“More like him trolling me,” I said, feeling the butterflies beat their wings.
“Right. Well, your first date was six months ago, at this Italian place called Il Tempesto. Logan says it’s romantic.”
That was where Annie and Zoey had gotten engaged. It was the perfect date spot. I had a sudden strange moment of wistfulness for the life Nora was describing.
“You’ve been dating ever since but keeping your relationship private because neither of you wanted it to distract from your work. You’re coming forward now, obviously, because people have the gall to suggest you’re a fling.” Nora eyed me. “You’re taking notes on my tone, right? The gall.”
“Got it.” Inwardly, I shook my head. I’d never pull off that kind of righteous indignation. “What do we say if someone from the bar remembers us? There was this guy, Carter—”
“Logan told me. You say the two of you have ways of keeping the spice alive, and one of them is pretending to be strangers. We figure we can get a lot of mileage out of that excuse.” She turned to me. “Okay, we’re here.”
And somehow, we were. I’d gotten so caught up in the story of my love affair I hadn’t registered we’d reached the door. Nora squinted at me, then brushed invisible lint off my dress and fluffed my hair. “Best we can do,” she said, which wasn’t exactly comforting.
“Wait—”
“You’ll do great. Let Logan take the lead, then he’ll prompt you. When in doubt, mix a little truth in with your lie. It’s what the pros do. There he is. Good, you got the pin.”
Logan hurried up, buffing an American flag pin on his lapel. “We ready?”
“No,” I said, at the same time Nora said, “As we’ll ever be. Knock ’em dead.”
Two staffers swung open the double doors, and there they were, a whole crowd of reporters gathered at the bottom of the steps. Well, maybe only ten, but between the pops of light from their cameras, the yelled questions, and the scampering production assistants, it felt like a hundred. I froze, rooted to the floor.
“All good,” Logan said, eyes sweeping the crowd. He slipped his hand inside mine and squeezed. “They’re just nerds with microphones.”
I didn’t have time to wonder at the warm pressure of his hand, the way calm spread through me, because Logan was grimace-smiling and striding toward the podium at the top of the stairs, tugging me along. He stepped behind it and tilted the microphone with his free hand. Below us, the reporters fell quiet. I looked at them, heart pounding. There were a few faces I recognized—like there, in the corner, CBS 12’s Trisha Smith. Actual news celebrities had turned up to hear us speak.
I was grateful for Logan’s strong grip, keeping me tethered.
“Good morning.” Logan’s deep voice rang out, carried by the microphone. “Thanks for coming on such short notice. I’m sure you all had busy days planned chasing ambulances and trying to get the attorney general to say something about his office brothel scandal on a hot mic.”
Oh, God, was he—insulting them? But the reporters only chuckled and shook their heads like they were used to this.
“Compared to that, this statement about my love life is going to seem pretty tame. Fewer sordid details, I can guarantee.”
Open laughter. I stood straighter. He was charming them?
“I wish there was this much interest in my plan to improve public data infrastructure, but alas. Since you’re all so keen to know: yes, Alexis Stone and I are dating.” He paused and looked at me. In my sheer nervousness, with my heart beating like a hummingbird’s, I smiled so wide there was no way I didn’t look deranged. “It’s been six months now. Though, to be honest, she’s had my heart since the first day I saw her across the room at a town hall, wearing this ruby-red dress. I thought to myself: now that is the most beautiful, most fascinating woman I’ve ever seen. I would be lucky to know her. It took me a while to work up the nerve to say something, which—” his gaze shifted back to the reporters “—you jokers know is rarely an issue for me.”
More appreciative laughter. It was surreal: Logan spoke the lies so effortlessly that I was half convinced myself. With his thumb rubbing a comforting circle on my hand, it was hard to distinguish fiction from reality. He was very good. I was grudgingly impressed.
“We were trying to keep our private life, you know, private. Including the evening we spent at the Fleur de Lis.” This time Logan practically growled the words. “But since Governor Mane is attempting to make mountains out of molehills by going after me personally—a clear sign he knows he can’t compete on policy—” More snickering. “I’m here to nip this in the bud and introduce you to Alexis. Since my girlfriend is quite capable of speaking for herself, I’ll let her tell you. Alexis?”
My turn already? Logan was looking at me in a prompting sort of way, and the eyes of the gathered reporters had turned to me, their expressions anticipatory, so all signs pointed to yes. Naturally, all thoughts flew from my head.
“Uhhhh...” There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t form words around it. “Hi, I’m... Alexis...as Logan said... And we are, um...dating. Obviously.” In slow motion I floated outside my body to watch the train wreck unfold from a safe distance. He’d said to tell them about me, right? But what would they want to know? What was important about me? “I’m a librarian. Lee Stone’s younger sister. Senator Lee Stone, that is. I like reading and, um, children...” I like children? Who was I, Willy Wonka? I was bungling this so badly. I looked at Logan in desperation.
He gave my hand one quick squeeze and smiled at the reporters, who wore looks of confusion. Which was only appropriate after witnessing a grown woman struggle to string twelve words together. “It’s just like Alexis to be so modest. The truth is, she serves our community in a lot of ways: as a children’s librarian, an adult literacy tutor, one of Austin’s yearly book drive volunteers. And as a member of Senator Stone’s campaign team, where she worked to increase voter participation.”
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one who’d done some Googling last night. When he said it like that, I did sound rather nice.
“Most important, though, is who she is. Alexis has a warm, tender heart and a mountain of compassion.” I snapped my head to him, caught by surprise. “She’s the real deal, and I’m proud to be dating her. So now that you know, I hope we can get back to discussing more important issues than my dating life, like the changes Texans deserve. Thank you. Have a good day.”
I didn’t have time to linger over what he’d just said because, like in Lee’s press conferences, the reporters took Logan’s curt dismissal as an invitation to start hurling questions.
“Logan, what do you make of the governor’s claim that you’re too immature to govern?” a man in a baseball cap yelled.
“What do you think of Lolexis as your couple name?” called a woman near the front, with hair so stiffly styled it looked like a blond helmet. “Loganna? Alexagan?”
We had a couple name already? Why did they all sound like the name of an evil witch from Arthurian lore?
“Alexis, what do you think about the rumors that your boyfriend’s a playboy?” called a reporter who I swear couldn’t be older than sixteen. Was it even legal for him to be here, saying the word playboy?
But Logan ignored them all, turning away from the podium with seasoned indifference.
“Alexis!” A familiar voice cut through the din. “What’s Logan like in bed?”
The crowd quieted. Logan stiffened midstride, then turned and marched back to the podium. He dipped his head close to the mic. “That’s strike two, Trisha. One more and I’m banning you from my events. You’re going to be stuck covering Mane’s boring-ass, two-hour-long speeches at country clubs. Do you want to drink Arnold Palmers and eat Jell-O salad, Trisha? Do you?”
Lights popped as the cameras flashed. The reporters were cracking up, and all heads turned to local news celebrity Trisha Smith, who merely shrugged, unapologetic. “The people want to know, Mr. Arthur. Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Logan rolled his eyes in a way that made it clear he very much could blame her, then spun away. The reporters exploded once more, tossing questions at our backs. I flinched every time I heard my name, fighting the natural instinct to turn. But Logan strode determinedly to the office, and the double doors swung open. Staffers pulled us inside and shut the doors tight.
“Really, Logan?” Nora didn’t miss a beat, waiting at the entrance with her hands on her hips. “Boring-ass speeches? You know that clip’s going to play on every TV station in the state. You couldn’t just leave well enough alone, could you?”
Someone thrust a water bottle at me, and I took it gratefully, chugging cold liquid down my burning throat.
“She crossed the line,” Logan growled. “I think I was exceedingly nice given the circumstances.”
“Oh, yes, you were a teddy bear. Such a Kennedy moment for you.” Nora’s eyes flicked to me. “And you...” I gulped the last mouthful of my water. “I can’t even start on you. There’s not enough time. The important thing is, the governor canceled his presser. We scooped him.”
A staffer rushed up, sweat on his brow. “Logan, there’s been an oil leak in the gulf. We need to get out a statement ASAP.”
“Shit,” he said, and the whole room exploded into motion.
“Get that environmental policy professor on the line,” Nora called as Cary ran by.
“Talk soon,” Logan said to me, but it was practically an afterthought. He was already moving, staffers crowding every side, on to the next disaster. It wasn’t until he dropped my hand that I realized how much I’d been counting on that warm pressure to ground me. I was the lone person standing still inside a whirlwind. As I watched the back of his dark, curly head move down the hall, suddenly I felt the pressure change in my ears, like I’d jumped underwater, feet-first into the deep end.
What had I gotten myself into?