Alien in the House

his wife, Marcia, moved up for their Happy Hellos. They were the remainder of the Cabal and were both clearly displeased with being last in the Shake the Paws line.
    “Your dress is amazing,” Marcia said to me without preamble. “I don’t know what you’re paying that designer, but she won’t design for anyone else in the Beltway.”
    “Akiko’s very loyal.” She was. A-Cs had plenty of money, the Diplomatic Corps in particular—since we were the showcase and lobbyist faction for the entire A-C community—and we paid well. Akiko wasn’t on an exclusive retainer to our Embassy, but she was particular about the clients she took, and she’d told me in private she didn’t care for Marcia. Needless to say, I felt Akiko was a girl of taste and refinement.
    Marcia sniffed. “Well, we
should
all be wearing black.”
    “We should?”
    She nodded. “Poor Wendell passed away an hour ago.”
    Had no freaking idea who Wendell was. Now had the entire Cabal staring at me, obviously waiting for me to say something appropriate.
    “That’s too bad.” It was lame, but at least coherent and hopefully didn’t give away the fact that I had no clue as to who or what we were talking about. Times like this, I really missed killing superbeings for a living. It was so much easier.
    “We’d hoped Representative Holmes would have pulled through his illness,” Jeff said smoothly, with just the right amount of sorrow in his tone. The man was incapable of not being great at any job you gave him. What a pity his wife wasn’t as smooth.
    “Ah, yes,” I agreed, desperately hoping my tone matched Jeff’s. “Should we cancel the party?”
    “Oh, no,” Marcia said with a tiny laugh. “The show must go on.”
    “Must it?” Whoops. My brain had allowed my mouth to share what I was really thinking.
    Kramer nodded. “Wendell would understand, and want it that way.”
    “He would?”
    “Oh, yes. Wendell served for decades—he, better than most, understood how the process can’t stop just because we’ve lost a valued member.”
    We faced death on a regular basis, so I’d given this idea some thought over the past couple of years. Upon my untimely, or even long-awaited, death, I expected my friends and co-workers to be sad, and sobbing uncontrollably while tossing themselves onto my coffin wouldn’t be going too far. In all the “my death” daydreams I’d ever had, seeing the gang partying had never entered the picture, but then again, I wasn’t a career politician.
    Saved by the bell. “I must move you lovely people on,” Pierre said. “I’m sure the Ambassadors will find time to converse with you once the party’s in full swing.” As Pierre indicated the door, “Get the Party Started” came on, so, per Pink, she’d already handled that for us.
    Several A-C agents—recognizable in their black Armani suits, crisp white shirts, and all-around hotness—escorted the Cabal to their next stop. Wasn’t sure if this meant Pierre had called in reinforcements or if the agents were always on the roster. Pierre tended to keep the little things from me, which I appreciated.
    “Jeff, while we have a moment alone, Vance just shared that the game was afoot and we were all in danger.”
    Jeff sighed. “I didn’t get fear from him. I got excitement.”
    “Oh, so it’s his usual ‘I’ll concoct a wild danger theory so Kitty will be so impressed she’ll sleep with me and my love, Le Pew’ ploy?”
    “I’d assume so. But I had to put my blocks up so—”
    Before Jeff could finish the next folks to arrive were ushered in. Making for a nice change, it was people we’d always liked and who I was glad would be around at least two more years—Senator and Mrs. McMillan. “Ambassadors, good to see you.”
    “Good to see you, too, Don.” Jeff grinned as they shook hands while Kelly—who was, though older than me, a sorority sister—and I did our sorority’s not-so-secret handshake and such before we hugged each other.
    McMillan laughed. “I’m sure it is. You ladies done with your high-fiving?”
    “For now,” Kelly replied. “Who’s assigned to ensure we’re enjoying ourselves?”
    “That would be Michael.” Caroline, who was McMillan’s Girl Friday, joined us. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her that Peter the Dingo Dog had fond memories and wanted me to say “hi” for him. I’d save that for a bathroom trip or something. “He’s waiting for us. Impatiently.”
    “He can wait a minute