Alien in the House

said with a little laugh.
    The way she said this made me look at Brewer out of the corner of my eye. He didn’t look annoyed or angry or bored; his expression was a sort of sad resignation, as though he expected the conversation to move on, right now.
    I was many things, but despite much of the evidence, stupid wasn’t one of them. “You still have your portfolio? I’d love to see it sometime.”
    Nathalie looked up, clearly shocked and incredibly pleased. Brewer looked surprised and also pleased. Yep, I’d called that one right. The group they were running in liked having a former model in their company, but they didn’t actually
care
about what she’d done as a model. She was a nice addition, not as good as an actress, less worrisome than a rock star, but not a politician.
    “Be flattered,” Reader said. “She’s never asked to see mine.”
    “Oh, I had your best shot up in my room for a long time, James.”
    Jeff groaned. “Not the Calvin Klein ad again. Every time I think she’s forgotten about that, it comes right back up.”
    The group laughed and our food arrived. True to the Brewers’ promises, it was tasty and filling. While we ate, Brewer engaged Jeff and the boys talking about sports, and Nathalie talked fashion with me, Reader, and Vance. Turned out that Vance had seen her portfolio. Also turned out that he was, out of all her friends in town, the only one who had. It shocked me that Gadoire hadn’t gone for it, too, in hopes of dragging Nathalie into their Bed of Love, but perhaps he was clear that he wasn’t ever going to be her type.
    Realized I was enjoying spending time with the Brewers and really reassessing Vance and how deep his waters might be running.
    Also realized that the Brewers were ensuring that we didn’t discuss the events from earlier in the day or the prior evening. Wasn’t sure why, but put it down to them wanting this to be a fun, relaxing, really-get-to-know-you lunch. Even though we were in the middle of trying to figure out what was going on, having a couple hours without stress worked for me.
    We finished up and Rosemarie and Douglas asked for another picture, this one a group shot. We obliged. Brewer insisted on paying for lunch for all of us, which Jeff strenuously opposed, but Brewer won on the basis of Jeff’s being sworn in later.
    Douglas then presented each of us with nice, rectangular, stainless steel tins stuffed with an exclusive, and tightly packed, special tea that they blended themselves. He refused to allow any of us to pay for them.
    Hugs all around, we all left. Checked the prices as we left the restaurant—the tea we’d been gifted was very pricey. Opened my purse to put our tins in it and realized I had too many Poofs. And tea this expensive should be taken care of. “Jeff, I need to go back and get a bag. My purse is too full to hold these, and so is the briefcase.”
    “Nah, don’t bother them. This coat’s loaded with pockets.” He took the tins from me and put them into an inner left pocket.
    “Wow, I can’t even see much of an extra bulge. Or maybe I’m just used to your pecs bulging under normal circumstances.”
    “Hilarious.” But he looked pleased.
    We strolled back toward the Capitol. The rain had stopped while we were inside so the streets were wet but it wasn’t so bad. Managed to avoid any big puddles so my shoes didn’t get wrecked.
    Still kept an eye out for rooftop snipers, but saw none. Didn’t feel better—just assumed they’d moved down to street level.
    It was a longer walk back to the Capitol building than it had been to get to the Teetotaler. Hoped my feet weren’t going to be killing me by the time we got there—in the heels vs. Converse battle, comfy Converse won any round where a lot of walking was required.
    “Need me to get a cab or want to take the subway the rest of the way?” Jeff asked, as we neared the Metro station. We were on the opposite side of the street from the station and its big parking lot. Seemed like more work to get over there, go down, get tickets, and wait than just walk on. Same with hailing a cab.
    “Wow, picked up my internal whining, huh?”
    “It’s an easy guess. I’d be happy to carry you, but I think people would talk.”
    “Haters gonna hate, true enough.”
    As I said this, a car horn went off near us and a gray limo pulled up alongside the curb. The front window rolled down. “Hey baby, want a ride?” Jerry called from the passenger’s seat. Tim, who was