Whatever You Call Me (Best Friends Book 2) Page 5

  “Damn it, bro, are you trying to give me a heart attack? What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  Kip chuckled and dropped into the chair adjacent to Tom’s desk. “Just making sure you’re awake.”

  “How did the luncheon go? Make any headway with Princess Annie?” Tom turned in his seat, giving all his attention to Kip.

  “It depends on what you call headway. Did I get invited to Sunday dinner? No.”

  “Okay, then what kind of progress did you make?”

  Kip propped his ankle over his left knee and leaned his elbow on the desk. “I’d say…very little. But—and this could just have been my imagination—I think we had a moment when she climbed out of the car. I think I flustered her a bit. Damn it, she’s a tough one. I usually have no problem warming up women.”

  Tom rubbed his hands up and down his face and the effect made a sound like sandpaper on wood. “Uh…man…what can we do to get on her good side?”

  Only the tick-tock of the pendulum clock on Tom’s desk could be heard in the small office where both men thought about a change in strategy.

  “The problem is,” Kip said, “we’ve only been in the office or on official business when I’ve talked to her. Maybe if we were in a social setting I could thaw her out. I wonder what she does for fun.”

  “Let me do some research,” Tom said as he picked up the phone. “I’ll get back to you.”

  “Though, I’ll tell you man, it might not be worth it. Maybe we can think of another way to get close to her dad.”

  “Don’t give up yet. We’re only in the first quarter.”

  Seven

  “You should’ve seen him. He was practically dripping with women. My God, I wish I could’ve put a bug in that little flag lapel pin of his and heard what bullshit he was feeding them. They were totally enraptured.” Annie took a long draw on her beer and then continued. “Oh, oh and then? When we were talking to this woman, Amelia Wentworth,” Annie crooned in a sweet southern drawl, “I swear his hand slipped onto her lower hemisphere. Mark my words: these politicians are all alike.” Annie dove into her salad, stabbing madly at the greens.

  “You would know,” Derek mumbled, and Kate affirmed with a knowing eye-roll. When the photograph had surfaced during their junior year of the senator on the yacht of a wealthy lobbyist with an eighteen-year-old prostitute on his lap, Kate had supported Annie through the embarrassing situation. With the love and support of his family by his side and a considerable dose of creative spin from his camp, Cooper had been able to brush this sordid tale under the rug and get re-elected once again. Gail and Derek had heard the story and even witnessed themselves how Senator Cooper’s political posturing had affected Annie.

  “Seriously. You know I’ve seen this fake, overly-friendly, touchy-feely stuff too many times. Believe me—I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Okay, so he loves the ladies. What else can you tell us about him? What’s his platform or main cause or whatever?” Gail asked, shoving her empty mug toward the edge of the table.

  “So, he’s sponsoring this oil pipeline expansion bill that seems to be his highest priority right now. It came up several times at the luncheon today.”

  Kate drained the last of her beer. “Where is this oil pipeline?”

  “Apparently along the east coast?”

  “I didn’t even know there was a pipeline there to expand,” Derek said.

  “Neither did I, but this expansion is supposed to go through the eastern shore in his district. Ugh…let’s stop talking about this. I need another beer.”

  “Wait, here’s our next trivia question.” They all turned and looked at the overhead screen as Kate read to them. “Who was the first United States president to be impeached?”

  “I have no idea. Anyone know it?” Annie glanced at Kate, who was sinking her teeth into a veggie burger while shaking her head. “Derek? Any idea?”

  “Nope. Good ol’ Bill is the only one I know of, and I’m sure he wasn’t the first.”

  “I think I might know.” Gail shoved her plate aside and leaned toward the center of the table. In a hushed voice she said, “Wasn’t it Andrew Johnson?”

  Three blank faces stared back at her.

  “That’s right, isn’t it?” Gail urged the group to respond.

  “I have no idea. Sounds good to me though. I’ll just put that down.” Kate filled in the blank space on the trivia game form and went back to eating her burger.

  Annie looked over her shoulder. “Where is our waiter?” As if by magic, he appeared with a tray full of fresh beer mugs, foam spilling over the sides.

  “Perfect timing,” Derek said as he reached for a cold mug.

  The waiter handed the remaining frosted glasses to Kate, Gail, and Annie.

  “You must have read my mind,” Annie said.

  “Actually, these are compliments of the gentleman in the booth behind you.”

  All four stood up and looked behind them over the tops of the booth. The table backing Annie and Derek was empty, but when she sat back down Annie saw Kip rising out of the booth behind Kate, buttoning his jacket as he turned toward them. Her heart started pounding, fairly jumping out of her chest.

  “Good evening, everyone. I’m Kip Porter.”

  No one responded. No one moved. All eight eyes stared in disbelief as Kip pulled up a chair, setting his own beer on the table.

  “How’s trivia going?” He glanced around the table at four wide-eyed faces before his eyes came to rest on Annie. She was speechless, paralyzed.

  Kate finally broke the silence. “Oh, um, it’s going well. Hi. I’m Kate and this is Gail and Derek. And…of course you know Annie.”

  His warm, sincere smile made Annie that much more nervous as she tried to stop her hands from wringing in her lap.

  “Of course, I know Annie Merriman,” he said with a broad, playful grin.

  “What are you doing here?” Annie croaked, reaching for her beer.

  Kip directed his answer to Kate, Gail and Derek, seeming to ignore the fact that Annie had asked the question. “I was supposed to meet a friend of mine here tonight, but it looks like he’s not coming. While I was waiting I could hear someone speaking and I thought to myself, I know that voice. I glanced over the back of my booth and there you were.” His smiling eyes bore into Annie’s. “What’re the chances?”

  Annie’s salad began churning in her stomach. The thought that Kip could have heard what she had been saying was making her nauseated. She was afraid to open her mouth for fear of what may come out.

  “Seems like a million-to-one chance if you ask me,” Kate blurted. “Here’s our next question.” Once more she read aloud. “What was the name of the future politician who led the AFL in passing yards in the 1960s?”

  “Jack Kemp.”

  The table fell silent as Kip raised his glass, smiling proudly at his ability to provide a correct answer.

  “How did you know that?” Gail asked.

  “How does anyone gather useless trivia? I guess I read it somewhere,” Kip said, pointedly focusing all his attention on Annie’s friends. “I like to read political history, autobiographies, and of course I follow sports. But I have lots of other interests, too. I went into politics because I have a genuine interest in several causes and want to make this country a better place.”

  “Well said.” Derek saluted with a tip of his mug.

  “Now some people think that all politicians are just power hungry, womanizing sleaze-balls who can’t keep their hands to themselves. But that isn’t true.” Kip took off his jacket, hung it on the chair back, and loosened his tie.

  “I didn’t say sleaze-balls,” Annie said to her napkin, while she systemically tore it to shreds. She was doing all she could to avoid Kip’s gaze.

  “The thing is, most people don’t understand politics and how important it is to keep the voters and donors happy. They often misunderstand what they see.”

  Regaining her resolve, Annie looked straight at Kip.
“I understand politics.” She then turned to the others, brushing aside the napkin shavings. “I saw what I saw and I don’t think that’s the way to get donors. Being a leader and introducing good legislation, and most importantly, listening to your constituents is the way to gain support.”

  Kip directed his response to Annie’s friends. “Coach here was hired to handle my campaign, so you’d think she’d be encouraging me to drum up support. She’s seen the books and knows how expensive a campaign is to run.”

  Annie’s mouth dropped open and she furrowed her brows at Kip.

  “That’s right, I called you ‘Coach’,” he said. “I think it fits. You remind me of my middle school football coach back in seventh grade. He had a really low opinion of us and he was always right—even when he was wrong.”

  Derek barely suppressed a snicker and Kate hid her half-smile behind her beer. Annie leaned toward Kip, her elbows on the table. “Well, Porter, I don’t happen to be wrong in this case.” She turned to the rest of the table. “I just think there should be a better way to go about getting the issues in front of supporters as well as raise money.”

  “Hold on—another question,” Kate interrupted. “According to the ancient Egyptians, who is the god of fertility, life, and death?”

  Before anyone could even take a breath, Kip answered, “Osiris.”

  “Are you sure?” Gail asked.

  “Absolutely,” Kip answered and once more gave a sparkling smile to Annie, who couldn’t seem to close her mouth. Annie began rapidly drumming her nails on the side of her mug while glaring at Kip. How did anyone know if his answers were even correct? He could be charming the team with his quick responses, but not know the first thing about either subject.

  “Want me to Google it, Coach?” Kip glared back with equal intensity.

  “That was the last question. I’ll turn in our sheet and see how we did.” Kate got up from the table to deliver the answer sheet to the hostess, while the rest of the table sat silently. Annie continued tapping her fingernails against the side of her beer mug, while she and Kip carried on their staring contest. As soon as Kate returned, Annie resumed her defensive argument to the rest of her team. For a woman who had just spent the last few minutes staring daggers into Kip, she couldn’t be bothered to pay him the least mind as she spoke.

  “As I was saying, I think candidates could go about fundraising with a little more integrity. Let me get some good press out there for him and donations will start flowing in. Schmooze the big guns, yes, but keep your hands to yourself.”

  “I’m not sure what I’ve done to make her so pissed at me,” Kip said to Kate, “but I think she’s trying to penalize me for something I didn’t do.” Kip shoved his beer mug an arm’s length in front of him and propped his left elbow on the table, turning to face Annie. “I promise you my hand didn’t go anywhere near her ass.”

  “It sure looked like it to me.”

  “You were across the room! How could you see anything?”

  “I had a clear shot. I know what I saw.”

  “You need your eyes checked.”

  “Oh, really? Anything else you think I need, Congressman?”

  Kip sat back and retrieved his beer, tilting it contemplatively. Annie felt the flush on her face rise. Kip’s beer mug hit the table with a thump as he slid his chair even closer to Annie, so close their knees touched. “Since you asked…”

  “Let’s hear it.” Annie scooted closer to the edge of the booth.

  “Stop insisting I call back constituents who are obviously crazy.”

  “She may have a legitimate gripe.”

  “There were thousands of cats meowing in the background.” Kip’s voice echoed off the booth’s walls.

  “So maybe she rescues cats. Have a problem with that?” Annie matched his volume, rising slightly from her seat.

  “Damn it.” Kip took a long draw from his beer and mumbled, “I just don’t like cats.”

  Annie burst out laughing and threw her head back gleefully, then leaned forward to bring her face within inches of Kip’s. “What’s the matter, Porter, are you afraid of a little furry feline?”

  “Of course not.”

  “So, what’s your problem?”

  Kip’s face grew red and he nearly pressed his nose to hers. “I’m deathly allergic. Satisfied?” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh.” Annie jerked to attention, noticing they were but a millimeter apart, and slowly slid back into her seat, pressing her back against the booth. Around the table, Kate, Derek, and Gail stared at the combatants, who seemed to have slipped into their neutral corners. Annie picked up her mug, taking a deliberately long drink while keeping her eyes cast downward. The threesome exchanged knowing glances while Kip spun his empty glass around and around in a circle.

  Kate broke the silence. “Um…so…it looks like we won.”

  “Our first win. Congrats to us,” Gail said.

  “I have a feeling it was the congressman’s help on the last two questions that put us over the top. Thanks, man,” Derek added.

  Kip stood, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair. “You’re welcome. Glad I could help. So, what did you win?”

  “We won fifty dollars toward our next bar tab,” Kate said. “You should join us again.”

  Annie aimed a withering glare at her friend.

  Kip re-buttoned his navy blazer and tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table. “That’s very kind of you, Kate, but I think I’ll pass. This was a lot of fun, but I’m usually still working in the evenings.” Kip looked down at Annie, who was fingering her pile of shredded napkin. “Besides,” he continued, “I never like being the second smartest person at the table.”

  Annie’s head popped up and he gave her a wry grin, then slowly walked out of the bar.

  Eight

  The mid-morning sun sparkled through mullioned windows, casting white streaks across the polished wood floors and illuminating the pristine space. Kip turned slowly in the tomb-like silence, his jacket shoved back, hands on his hips, taking in the main room of the campaign headquarters that now looked like it could be featured in a design magazine. On the walls were large framed photographs of Eastern Shore life: two men crabbing off a dock, a farmer harvesting an abundant crop of corn, a white sailboat gliding along the bay, a group of locals watching a Fourth of July parade. Tea-stained Americana bunting was draped at the windows and a large bouquet of black-eyed Susans adorned a round antique table in the center of the room. A life-sized cardboard cut-out of Kip stood nearby. Another antique table sat at the back of the room, acting as a reception desk, and to its right was a large wooden cabinet holding a coffee pot and cups.

  Kip let out a low whistle. “Who the hell decorated this place?” he said to himself. “Martha Stewart?”

  “Actually, it was me.” Annie glided into the room in her bare feet and dropped a stack of brochures on the reception desk.

  Startled, Kip turned and crossed the room, reaching out to help Annie with a box she was holding. “Hey, I thought I was the only one here.”

  “Obviously not. So…Martha Stewart, huh?” Annie leaned her hip against the desk and crossed her arms across her ruffled, sleeveless blouse.

  “That was a compliment. This place looks incredible.” Kip moved forward and stood inches in front of Annie, his tall, lean body towering over her. “I’m really impressed. This sure doesn’t look like my last campaign office.”

  “Well…” Annie cleared her throat, tucked her hair behind her ears, and retrieved a pair of tan pumps from below the desk. As she slipped them on, she said, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  “I can see how hard you’ve worked.” Kip took another quick spin of the room. “I’m just curious how much all this cost…I mean it’s great…but we’re on a tight budget, remember?”

  Annie quickly walked across the room, stopping at the crabbing photo, her hands moving like an orchestra conductor’s. “It cost next to nothing. Two blocks over there’s a photog
raphy studio and I’d noticed these beautiful photos in his window. We worked a deal and he’s letting me borrow the framed photos until after the campaign in return for displaying some of his business cards and brochures.” Her heels clicked on wood floor as she walked toward the center table and adjusted the vase in several directions until she gave the arrangement a satisfied nod. “It’s the same deal with the silk flowers. The florist next door is lending them in return for free advertising.” Without casting a glance at Kip, she continued to glide around the space. “The antique tables are from my parents’ attic. My mother has a whole stash of furniture up there she just can’t seem to part with. Even the wooden desk chair is an antique. I think it belonged to my great-grandfather. Let’s see…”

  Kip watched Annie flit around the room, noticing the way she occasionally wiped her hands across her navy blue skirt. Had her voice risen a full octave while she chattered about her decorations? She was talking at warp speed and her hands appeared to quiver.

  “You okay?” Kip stepped closer to her. “I’m not making you nervous, am I?”

  Annie flicked her hand as if swatting a fly. “Pfff…not at all.”

  He stifled a satisfied grin while her melodious voice put him in a near-trance. He began imagining what it would be like to plant a long, lingering kiss on those pouty pink lips. He wasn’t supposed to have erotic daydreams about one of his employees—a pain-in-the-ass, self-righteous, goody-two-shoes employee—but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about slipping his hand into the thick curls at the nape of her neck and pulling her in close, his other hand gripping her cute little bottom. He was suddenly wrenched from his musings when he noticed Annie had stopped talking and was staring at him.

  He cleared his throat. “Good…I mean you’ve done a great job.” Kip turned his back to her and tried to get his mind back on the subject at hand when he took a longer look at the beverage station. “Are those tea cups?” He walked over to the cabinet where a coffee pot, sugar packets, a basket of tea bags, and cream pitcher were arranged. On the shelves above were a variety of floral tea cups and saucers.