Drew, of course, leaning one shoulder against the doorway in his shirtsleeves and pinstripes, top button undone. He looked at me with his weird uncertain smile, a petulant curl of his upper lip. His hair, misted by the rain, curled toward the crown of his head like a cool-cat lounge singer’s.
“Did your boyfriend abandon you?”
I shook my head. “He’s up in New Hampshire with his family.”
“Sounds like abandonment to me.”
“I’m fine.”
He jiggled his knee through the awkward pause. Then he asked, “You want to order some Chinese or something?”
I blurted a laugh. “Chinese? On Christmas Eve?”
“Sure. My family does it every year. Nothing else is open, after all.”
“Why don’t you guys just have ham and sweet potatoes and whatever else everybody eats on Christmas Eve?”
“We’re Jewish.”
“Oh.” I tapped a finger against the side of my laptop, considering. It wouldn’t be difficult to make an excuse to get rid of Drew, but if I spent some time with him, maybe I could get some insight that would help Cade learn to deal with him. And the fact was, I was bored and lonely. And I did feel abandoned, after all.
“Sure, yeah,” I said. “Do you have a menu?”
* * *
We set up the cartons on the table in the lounge. Drew set the TV to a Seinfeld rerun. “Jewish Christmas,” he said. “A little bit fun and a little bit depressing.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Don’t you have family or anything?”
“Not really.” I watched him root around in the carton and produce a piece of shrimp. “I thought shellfish weren’t kosher,” I added.
“I don’t keep kosher.”
I offered him a slow grin. “You’re a Jewish Republican who doesn’t keep kosher. That’s original.”
“I’m not a Republican. God, no.”
“But you work for Bylina.”
“Yeah. I’m an opportunist.”
Seinfeld broke to commercial. A jangling advertising tune came on, several notches louder than the regular TV volume. Drew cracked open his soda, watching me as he drank from it. Whenever I’d been around him in the past, Stan’s friendliness toward him had led me to see Drew as harmless, if slightly arrogant, with a mild case of social awkwardness. But here, alone with him, the vibe he gave off had more of an edge to it. The arrogance was still there, but it felt creepier.
“Well,” I said when the volume died down, “why don’t you go to work for somebody who shares your views? Somebody who’s working on issues you believe in? That’s the point of being in politics, isn’t it? To make a positive change in the world.”
He eased back in his chair and set down his soda can. “Are you asking me to pull out so Cade can get the job?”
“No, I’m just asking why you’d even want it when you could get the same job working for somebody whose convictions are in line with yours.”
“I might pull out. It’s possible.”
I nodded. “If you don’t believe in it, you ought to. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” he said. He spun the can in circles with his fingers. “I’m not sure I have the right motivation.”
For a few moments I puzzled over the strange response, my attention still cocked toward Seinfeld. Then all at once it clicked. I looked him squarely in the eye. “Drew,” I said with disgust.
He shrugged.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a reply.” I snatched the delivery bag from the table and stuffed it into a garbage can. As I bustled around angrily he watched with a bemused detachment that unnerved me.
“You know why I admire Cade?” he asked.
My shoulders twitched. “Because unlike you, he has principles?”
“No. That’s not why.” His voice disdained me. “Because he’s so fucking ambitious.”
“Thanks,” I said icily. I saw now exactly why Cade detested the guy so much, and felt shamed by my naïveté. “I’ll pass that on to him when I tell him about this whole conversation.”
“If you want. He’ll be sorry you didn’t take me up on it. He wouldn’t admit it, of course. But he’ll wish you’d just done it and kept your mouth shut about it.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Cade’s not like that at all.”
“As if you’d know,” he said, “when it’s all been sunshine and rainbows and snuggle sex for the two of you. I’ve been on the campaign trail with him, and I know a little different. Let me tell you, Jill. You don’t know a guy until you’ve seen him under pressure. Cade’s like everybody else. He only cares about one thing.” He held up a single