Whatever You Call Me (Best Friends Book 2) Read online

  And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

  Four

  Annie walked into her apartment, dropping her purse on the floral armchair. She pulled the blinds on the living room windows and flopped face down on the couch. This was the position Kate found her in when she walked through the door an hour later.

  “What are you doing? Why are you laying here in the dark?” Kate placed her briefcase beside the door and walked toward Annie, who was burrowing her head under a pillow.

  “Ugh, what a day! I was thinking I’d just lay here in the dark for the next century. It would make my life so much easier.”

  “No luck today? Do you mind if I turn on a lamp?”

  Annie’s face was still planted into the sofa cushion, so Kate could barely hear her muffled reply. “If you must.”

  Kate turned on a lamp and then walked into the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of wine? Sounds like we could both use one.”

  Annie lifted her head but remained planked on the couch. “I better pass.”

  Kate pulled a bottle of pinot out of the refrigerator. She poured herself a generous glass, grabbed a bag of pretzels, and rejoined Annie on the couch where she was now sitting up, staring into space. Kate settled herself beside her friend, wrapping her arm around Annie’s shoulder.

  “Okay, start from the beginning. Why are we going full hermit for the next century?”

  Annie sat silently for several minutes, but when she felt some of the day’s tension start to dissolve, she filled Kate in on yet another unsuccessful job interview. “They told me I was over-qualified. I even told them I’m willing to start at the bottom.”

  “Did it make a difference?”

  “Nope. They just wished me luck and showed me the door. What am I going to do? I’ve interviewed with four non-profits here in the district and sent resumes to dozens of companies up and down the east coast. The only promising leads I’ve had were from two head hunters who called me about accounting positions, but I told them I wasn’t interested. Maybe I should call them back. My funds are getting dangerously low.”

  “How dangerously low?”

  “I can just make rent and pay utilities this month and then I’m officially broke.”

  “What about a loan from your mom?”

  “I can’t continue to go back to that well. It’s time I stood on my own two feet.”

  “You can always go back to accounting while you look for something else,” Kate said.

  “No, I wouldn’t do that. If I go back to accounting, I’ll just stick with it. Ugh! Why can’t something exciting happen for me?” Annie stood, stretched toward the armchair for her purse, and began digging around for her cell phone. “I should have one of the head hunter’s numbers still in my phone.” Her fingertips grazed something soft and she pulled out the napkin she’d been carrying since her boozy lunch three weeks before. “Tom Garrett,” Annie murmured.

  “Who’s Tom Garrett?”

  Annie dropped down beside Kate while still studying the napkin. “He was that political consultant I met at the Independent the day I quit. If you had been on time, you would have met him.”

  Kate ignored the gentle barb about her chronic lateness these days. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with politics.”

  “Yeah, but I also don’t want anything to do with accounting. Looks like I don’t have much of a choice. If I don’t want to starve, I need to find a job and fast. I think I’ll call him tomorrow to see what it’s all about. Can’t hurt, right?”

  Later that day, Annie sat in the Olde Towne Tavern, alone. For a moment, she had a slightly panicky thought that she’d found herself sitting solitary at a bar too often in the past month. The smell of beer-soaked wood permeated the air and country music blared through the speakers. It was Thursday night trivia and she was in her team’s usual booth, waiting for everyone else to arrive. She’d come directly from Starbucks, where she had met with Tom Garrett to talk about the “amazing opportunity” he had for her. Kate, Derek, their old friend from college, and Gail, a former co-worker, strolled through the door.

  “It’s not healthy to drink alone.” Derek gave her a shove, pushing her deeper into the wooden booth.

  “Well you better catch up, then.” Annie shoved back.

  “Annie, I can’t stand you not being at work. I’ve had to eat lunch with Mallory every day since you’ve been gone and all she talks about is how wonderful her new boyfriend is,” Gail said, as she wrapped her hands in a choke hold around her own neck.

  “At least she’s got one,” Annie replied.

  “But, God, does he have to be so perfect? He can’t possibly be that perfect, can he?” Gail asked as she flagged down a passing waiter.

  “Nope, definitely not…no such thing as a perfect guy,” Kate chimed in as she picked up a menu.

  “Whoa, what about me? I’m pretty damn perfect.”

  Annie laughed and wrapped an arm around Derek’s broad shoulders. “You’re hot, not perfect. And that’s a good thing. Perfect is boring.”

  After placing their drink orders, Kate lowered her menu and leaned toward Annie. “Well, how did the interview go?”

  “Oh, yeah…wasn’t this an interview with the guy you met when you went on a drinking spree in the middle of the afternoon?”

  Derek’s question made Annie’s face grow red as she gave a sheepish grin. That afternoon had definitely not been one of her finer moments. She cringed just thinking about it. “Don’t remind me. Apparently he forgot about it because it never came up and the interview went surprisingly well. I’m now officially employed.”

  “Drinks are on Annie,” Derek said.

  “Maybe after my first paycheck.”

  “So tell us everything,” Gail said. “What’s the position? What will you be doing?”

  “Apparently, Tom isn’t exactly a political consultant. He’s the chief of staff to Congressman Kip Porter from Maryland. Ever heard of him?” Annie glanced around at three blank faces all shaking their heads. Well, that would have to be one of her first agenda items: get Kip Porter some more press time.

  “Anyway, he’s running for re-election in November…he’s unopposed in the primary and they need a campaign treasurer. That’s where my accounting skills come in. Along with that, Tom said he’s too busy to run the campaign because being chief of staff takes up all his time. He’s essentially turning the whole campaign leadership over to me. In the beginning, he’ll guide me through until I get the hang of it and then he’s going to ‘turn me loose.’ Those were his exact words.”

  “Amazing. That sounds really exciting.” Kate gave Annie’s arm a squeeze and lifted her glass in a toast. “To Annie—once again gainfully employed.”

  “Wait,” Derek said, “I thought you didn’t like politics. How did you end up taking this job?”

  At that moment, Annie’s cell phone rang and she saw it was a call coming in from her father. “Speaking of politics…” she said, turning the phone to let everyone see “Dad” and her father’s familiar campaign photo flash on the screen. She clicked the ignore button and laid the phone face down on the table. “So…what were we talking about?”

  Kate—jokingly known as “Annie’s sometimes legal representation”—brought them back to the subject. “How you decided to take the job. Let’s review the evidence: She’s been out of work for over a month, she barely has enough savings to pay rent, and there’s a pair of wedges she’s been eyeing at Nordstrom ever since she quit her job. I’d say she has no choice.”

  “Exactly right. And the great thing about this job,” Annie continued, “is it’s only temporary and I won’t really be involved in politics. It’s more like a marketing job. I have to find ways to sell the candidate to the people. I’ll be managing the volunteers and interns at the campaign office, which is located outside DC. It won’t be that bad.”

  “I’m convinced. Let’s drink to Annie.” The three friends joined Gail as the first trivia question popped on the screen.
r />   As soon as Annie got home that night, she climbed on top of her bed, flipped open her laptop, and searched Kip Porter, trying to imagine what a guy named “Kip” would look like. She pictured an overweight, gray-haired man in faded overalls and a blade of wheat sticking out of his mouth. Or maybe he was a short, thin, nerdy professor-type with dark plastic glasses. Then again, Kip sounded like he could be a blond surfer-dude smiling blankly while his hand flashed a “hang-ten” sign. She tapped on the first link to the congressional website and fell with a thump against her headboard. Kip Porter certainly didn’t have gray hair or dark glasses. And there was nothing vacant about his smile. The man smiling back at her was handsome—breathtakingly handsome—with dark hair groomed short, pale blue eyes, and a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. Pictured standing outside a doorway talking to constituents, it was obvious he was tall. In another picture he was holding a football on the turf at the University of Maryland. And in another picture, he was talking to some fishermen along a shoreline. She clicked on the bio tab and learned the history of Kennard Irwin Porter, III—no wonder they called him Kip, she thought. Born and raised in the small Eastern shore town of Shady Beach, Maryland, where he grew up playing football and baseball, Kip landed a full scholarship to play tight end for the Terrapins. He began his political career as a state delegate right after graduation and quickly gained popularity within his party. Now thirty-four years old, he was unmarried, a member of Rotary International and the Shady Beach United Methodist Church, and had been an Eagle Scout.

  “Sounds damn near perfect.”

  Five

  For a quiet riverside haven, it sure was noisy at six o’clock in the morning. Robins and cardinals were singing merrily outside the screened window to Kip’s bedroom and the buzz of the occasional outboard engine could be heard a hundred yards away along the river. He tucked his head under his pillow and groaned. Unable to return to sleep, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Noisier than the damn city,” he grumbled.

  Kip shuffled across the avocado green linoleum in the small kitchen and started a pot of coffee. After filling a mug—two sugars and a splash of cream—he wandered onto the screened porch and dropped onto the Adirondack chair’s faded striped cushion. Looking across the grassy knoll toward the river where the water was like glass at this time of day, he watched a mother mallard and her eight ducklings skim along the shore. A contented sigh escaped his lips and the earlier sleep disruption was forgotten. He was home in his eight hundred-square-foot cabin along a quiet tributary of the Chesapeake Bay. The place had been used by his grandfather and great-uncle for weekend fishing and crabbing. The dock they’d built fifty years ago was still standing strong at the edge of his property, but no longer had a boat tethered to it.

  When Kip and his brothers and male cousins were kids, they’d come to the cabin in the summertime to swim, fish, and camp. With only two bedrooms among them, their fathers and grandfathers would sleep inside in beds while the boys slept outside in tents, waking in the morning with hundreds of mosquito bites dotting their skin. Back then, several similar shingled cottages lined the shore, creating a campground of families where lasting friendships formed over a blazing fire or a steaming bushel of crabs. The summer families and their tiny cabins were all gone now, replaced by million-dollar waterfront homes from which Annapolis executives commuted each day. Kip had purchased the cabin from his grandfather’s estate after graduating college and had left it just as it had been when it was built. The only upgrade was a fresh coat of paint throughout and new kitchen appliances. The cabin was where Kip came on weekends when he needed a break from political life in the city, though he never seemed to get there as often as he would have liked.

  His hometown of Shady Beach was only ten miles inland and his mother still lived in the three-bedroom house where he’d been raised. Currently, she was vacationing in Ocean City with a group of ladies from her church and wasn’t expected home for another few days. His brother, Rob, lived a mile from the old homestead and looked in on their mother frequently since their dad had passed. David, the youngest of the boys, was stationed at the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point, North Carolina.

  Kip stood and stretched his long arms over his head. He needed a run and a hot shower before he met Tom at the new campaign headquarters at nine. His few minutes of tranquility were over.

  Two hours later Kip was driving down a two-lane road towards downtown Shady Beach, scrolling through his texts while taking quick peeks at the long line of trucks pulling skiing and fishing boats on their way to the river. Taking a sip from the coffee he’d picked up at a convenience store, he lowered the visor to block the morning sun and turned up the volume on his radio. He pulled in front of the new campaign headquarters on Main Street and slammed the door on his Lexus GS350. He dropped a quarter into the parking meter and took a quick look around the quaint town while tapping his cell phone to connect with Tom.

  “Hey, where are you?” he asked.

  “Stuck in traffic on the bridge. Damn beach traffic has everything backed up. What about you?”

  “I’m outside the campaign office. Where’d you say you put the key?”

  “Under the flower box,” Tom said.

  Sliding his hand along the window sill below the wooden box full of last year’s dead, dried-up blooms, Kip discovered the brass key and inserted it into the lock.

  “Damn, Tom, you outdid yourself. This place is a real palace.” Kip laughed as he looked around the empty, dusty rooms, which had recently been home to a second-hand store. Clothing racks and boxes were still scattered throughout the space.

  “Okay, smartass, it doesn’t look like much now. We just need to get the crap out of there and clean it up. I’ll rent furniture next week. It’ll be fine,” Tom replied.

  Kip wandered around his new headquarters, leaning his head inside a back room he imagined could be used for conferences, then stepped into a small galley kitchen centered by the back door. He noticed a small woman in a baseball cap coming toward the building.

  “Here comes the answer to our prayers. The cleaning lady’s here,” Kip said, as he reached for the door knob.

  “Cleaning lady? I didn’t know we had one. Maybe Annie hired her. God knows we need one.”

  “When do I get to meet the infamous Ms. Merriman?”

  “On Monday at the staff meeting. I asked her to join us.”

  Kip reached for the door knob. The diminutive woman’s hands were full with a mop, broom, and bucket filled with bottles of cleaning supplies. Once she deposited the items inside the kitchen, she went back out to her car and brought in a vacuum cleaner, then made a final trip to carry in four grocery bags. All the while, Kip ambled around the main room, moving old boxes with the edge of his toe and listening to Tom curse a sea of bad drivers on the other end of the line.

  “So what kind of a lease did you get on this place?” Kip asked, as he tipped back his cup for the last drop of coffee. He glanced around the room for a trash can but didn’t see one. The cleaning lady walked in carrying a large plastic bin and he handed her the empty cup.

  “Gracias,” he said.

  He found a stack of boxes to lean against and watched as the cleaning lady bent over to pick up a pile of hangers off the floor. His eyes trailed from her tight little ass down to her red painted toenails. She was wearing cut-off denims, a baggy shirt, and flip flops, and her dark curly hair was pulled through the back of a baseball cap. The baggy shirt did little to hide her ample breasts. Tom put him on hold to answer another call and Kip decided to make conversation with the busy little woman.

  “Habla Ingles?”

  Still with her back to him, she put her hands on her hips and answered, “Yup.”

  Kip shrugged and went back to exploring the space, while occasionally casting a glance at the maid’s shapely bottom.

  “Who was that?” Kip said when Tom came back on the line, tearing his eyes away from a pair of tan legs.

  “The speaker’s assi
stant. He had some questions about the pipeline bill. I’m a block away. Be there in a minute.”

  Kip clicked off and watched as the cleaning lady pushed a wide broom across the floor. “Honey, you missed a spot.” He pointed at the corner and flashed his pearly white smile as he stepped outside to meet Tom.

  Tom climbed out of his SUV and shook Kip’s outstretched hand.

  “So, what do you think? Nice location, huh?”

  “Yeah, great location. It’s big enough. Maybe once that cleaning lady’s done and all the stuff is out of there, I’ll be able to envision what it could look like.”

  As the two men stood on the sidewalk, watching a few passing cars, the loud squeal of burning rubber split the quiet. A silver convertible fishtailed around the corner, whizzing by at breakneck speed.

  Tom said, “Hey, that was—”

  “The cleaning lady. She looked pissed.”

  Tom let his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he looked at his friend over their rim. “Bro, that was no cleaning lady. That was Annie Cooper.”

  Monday morning, after continuous tongue-lashings from Tom about the importance of getting in Annie’s good graces, Kip plastered on his most sincere smile and welcomed his staff to their weekly meeting. He paced back and forth at the head of the conference table, jiggling his keys in anticipation of their introduction. A moment later he spotted her speaking with Tom outside the conference room door, affording Kip a moment to study her dignified, professional attire. The high-necked white blouse and navy suit did nothing to hide her incredible figure. She had dark, curly hair, the kind he’d always found so sexy, and this morning she had it piled high on her head. He envisioned pulling out the pins and letting it tumble down her back. His eyes trailed down the tan legs he had admired on Saturday to a pair of four-inch pumps that only enhanced her shapely calves. He had toyed with the idea of feigning ignorance of their encounter, but decided it might be to his advantage to admit his faux pas in an attempt to show her a more contrite side. Feeling it might be best to have a private word with her before the meeting began, Kip walked out of the conference room, hand extended, and greeted Annie with a smile.