Xo

politician’s head of hair.
    Which made sense, because, Kayleigh realized, that’s exactly who he was: one of California’s star congressmen, William Davis, a two-term Democrat.
    Kayleigh glanced at Dance, who observed this all with a careful gaze.
    A woman was the last to climb out of the Navigator, dressed also in a conservative matching navy jacket and skirt, flesh-colored stockings.
    The guard stayed with the SUV and the others followed Bishop and his wife into the house.
    Inside, Bishop hugged his daughter and as if in an afterthought asked how she was holding up. Kayleigh thought it was the way he’d ask a gaffer whose name he didn’t know how he was weathering the loss of an elderly parent. He also didn’t seem to remember that he’d been here just a few hours ago.
    What on earth were they doing here, anyway?
    Bishop examined Dance as if he’d never met her and he ignored Darthur Morgan completely.
    He said to his daughter, “This here’s Congressman Davis. And his aides, Peter Simesky. And …”
    “Myra Babbage.” The slim, unsmiling woman, with square-cut, brunette hair, nodded formally. She seemed a bit star-struck to be in Kayleigh’s presence.
    “Ms. Towne, it’s an honor,” the congressman said.
    “Hey, call me Kayleigh. You’re making me older than I want to be.”
    Davis laughed. “And I’m Bill. It’s easy to remember. I’ve sponsored a few of them in congress.”
    Kayleigh gave a brief smile. And she introduced Dance and Morgan.
    “We just flew into San Francisco a few days ago and have been making our way south. I was in touch with your father, asking about getting to your concert. Oh, I’m paying for tickets, don’t you worry. I’m afraid we just need a little extra security.”
    Bishop said, “We’ve got it all taken care of.”
    “I was hoping for a chance to meet you and to say hi in person. Your father suggested bringing me along today, before the concert.”
    So, that was it. Kayleigh understood. Dammit. Her father had said they’d think about canceling the show and yet he was going to do whatever he needed to make sure it went forward. Anything to edge her career in the right direction. He’d be thinking that her knowing that the congressman—and accordingly more reporters—would be in the audience would pressure her not to cancel.
    Kayleigh fumed but smiled pleasantly, or tried to, as Davis rambled like a schoolboy, talking about songs of hers he particularly loved. He really was quite a fan. He knew every word of every tune, it seemed.
    Myra Babbage said, “I can’t thank you enough for letting us use ‘Leaving Home’ on the website. It’s really become an anthem for Bill’s campaign.”
    Kathryn Dance said, “I heard you on the radio, Congressman. On the drive over here—that debate on immigration issues. That was some heated discussion.”
    “Oh, it sure was.”
    “I think you won, by the way. You drove ’em into the ground.”
    “Thanks. It was a lot of fun,” Davis said with a gleam in his eye. “I love debates. That was my, quote, ‘sport’ at school. Less painful to talk than getting run into on the football field. Not necessarily safer, though.”
    Kayleigh didn’t follow politics much. Some of her fellow performers were active in campaigns and causes but she’d known them before they’d hit it big and they hadn’t seemed particularly interested in animalrights or hunger before they started drawing the public limelight. She suspected that a number had been tapped by their public relations firms or their record company publicity departments to take up a cause because it would look good in the press.
    She knew, though, about U.S. Congressman Bill Davis. He was a politico with an electric mix of positions, liberal and conservative, the most controversial of which was relaxing border controls to let in more foreigners, subject to requirements like an absence of criminal conviction, an English-language test and guarantees of employment prospects. He was one of the front-runners for the next presidential campaign and had already started stumping.
    Peter Simesky, the aide, said, “I’ll confirm he’s a fan. On the campaign buses, you’re right up there with Taylor Swift, Randy Travis, James Taylor and the Stones for our listening pleasure. Hope you’re okay with that company.”
    “I’ll take it, you bet.”
    Then the congressman grew serious. “Your father said there’s a bit of a problem at the moment, somebody who might be