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been the highlight of my week. Or how very tiny this food is and we’re going out for steak and baked potatoes after this? I know a good place.”
     
    Sierra wasn’t sure what to say. He was lying to her. She knew it. He was hiding things that went far beyond the standard skeletons politicians kept in their closets. And yet, all she could think about was how she’d really like to drive two hours into the woods with him just to look at the stars.
     
    “The food is tiny,” she agreed.
     
    “They’re practically child sized portions. I think the chef is actually trying to starve us.”  Sierra laughed. Joe reached across the table and held her hand.
     
    Suddenly there was a commotion from downstairs. Loud, but still indistinct voices shouted at each other. After a moment Sierra recognized one of the voices as the maître‘d.
     
    “-can’t go up there!”
     
    “You intend to stop me, son?”
     
    There was more shouting, loud footsteps on the stairs, and then the doors burst open. The man that pushed through them had shoulder length grey hair. He wore jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt that left his muscular, tattooed arms exposed. He had no shoes.
     
    “Joe!” he shouted, “Are you ever going to get a damn cell phone?”
     
    “This isn’t a good time, Eric.”
     
    “You know him?” Sierra asked, bewildered.
     
    “Yes.” Joe replied. “Eric is in…public relations. Eric, this is Sierra. She’s a reporter.” he said pointedly.
     
    “A reporter. Are you shitting me with this?” Eric replied. “We have a problem with Brenda.”
     
    “What kind of a problem?” Joe asked.
     
    “The big hairy kind. The kind where you need to come with me right now.”
     
    “Alright.” Joe said. He turned to Sierra.
     
    “I’m so sorry. Can we try this again another time?”
     
    “Will you tell me what this was about?” she asked.
     
    “Probably not.” Joe said.
     
    Then, without warning, he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was long, and hungry, and lit her body up like a shot of adrenaline. He pulled away and planted another small kiss on her forehead.
     
    “Enjoy the soufflé.” he told her.
     
    And then he was gone. Sierra sat back down in her chair, stunned. Their waiter reappeared and set something smelling of chocolate down in front of her.
     
    “Soufflé, mademoiselle.”
     

CHAPTER 3
    “Sierra, wake up. Your mom’s on the phone. She saw a picture of you on the Internet making out with the Governor and she wants an explanation.”
     
    Sierra groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. It was too early for that conversation. That conversation needed to wait until at least 10:00 am. Or maybe noon. Or possibly never. Never sounded good.
     
    After a few dazed bites of soufflé, she had taken a cab home, tip - toed past a mercifully sleeping Molly, and crawled into bed with a bottle of wine. She dreamed about Joe lifting her car again, only this time Eric had been there in the passenger seat, babbling about mysterious problems and someone named Brenda.
     
    “I too, would like an explanation.” Molly said, holding the phone out to her. “You can’t hide under there all day. We’ll find you.”
     
    Sierra grudgingly accepted the phone.
     
    “Hi mom.”
     
    After playing twenty questions, with her mother, Molly was up to bat.
     
    “So who’s this skank Brenda?”
     
    “How do you know she’s a skank?”
     
    “Man drops everything like that, my money’s on skank. You should shank her.”
     
    “Great advice, Molly. Thanks for that.”
     
    But Sierra was a lot less curious about Brenda and a lot more curious about Eric. Tattooed, hippie type Eric who spoke to the Governor of Washington like an old friend. She doubted very much Eric could get a job scrubbing toilets in the capitol, much less in public relations .
     
    Nothing seemed to add up, and none of Joe’s supposed answers made any sense. The missing charity money. The unscheduled trek into the woods. Eric.