9. Spencer

CHAPTER 9

SPENCER

As I walked to the desk at the hotel to hear Vani asking for two king rooms, I stopped her when the clerk walked away. "What are you doing? We can have two queens and share a room. It will be fine."

"I'd like a room to myself, and come the fuck on, Spence. If you can look at Nash and tell me you'd rather share a room with me, then I'll back off." The sass in that woman made me smile.

"Vani, honey, he's not attracted to me." I was whispering because he was standing nearby, and I wasn't having the discussion in the hotel lobby.

"You're not stupid, and you're not blind, or so I thought. Use lube. I think he's hung." She handed me a key card and headed toward the elevator.

"Wait, Vanessa!" I called after her. My lovely wife turned to me and smiled. "You don't need to hide any longer, Spence. Go for it!" She disappeared down the hallway and stepped onto the elevator, laughing as the doors closed as she held her finger on the button.

I turned to see Nash standing to the side of the lobby, a concerned expression on his gorgeous face. God knew, the man was everything I ever dreamed of finding in a partner on a physical level, but under the circumstances, I wasn't sure what to do or say to him. The fact he was so young and handsome had me feeling guilty.

"So, Senator? We gonna stand here all night?" He grabbed the key card folio from me and looked at the number written across the bottom, before heading toward the elevator, motioning for me to move. I grabbed my suitcase and pulled it behind me as I stepped onto the car with him.

Nash hit the button for the third floor, and I kept my eyes planted on the illuminated rectangle where the floor numbers were displayed. When we arrived at our destination, Nash stepped off and reached for my suitcase, pulling it with him. "Come on. We have a big bed. I'm not going to touch you."

I wasn't worried about him—I worried about me.

I stepped from the car, suddenly unsure whether I liked his response. Oh, I wanted him to touch me everywhere, but I had a freight train full of bullshit that went everywhere with me, and Nash didn't deserve to have to help me pull it up hill.

Once inside the room, I felt like a virgin on prom night. I looked around, spotting a way to get a little space to organize my thoughts, so I went for it. "I, uh, I'll get us some ice." I grabbed the ice bucket.

There was one king bed that didn't seem to be big enough for the two of us and a separate sitting area with a television. I needed a minute to establish a plan.

His laughter echoed in the room as I allowed the door to close behind me. Why the fuck did I feel like I was doing something wrong?

Vani and I had been open about our relationship within our trusted circle, but not with outsiders. My job didn't afford us that luxury. Hell, she'd pushed me to share a room with him. I shouldn't feel bad about it because nothing was going to happen between us.

I walked down the hall to the alcove where the ice machine was located. There were three vending machines, so I reached into my pocket and grabbed some change.

"You are an adult. Hell, you're—well, you were—a United States Senator. You've argued with career politicians about healthcare, minority rights… He's a guy. You can just talk to him. Yeah, that's it. Just talk to the man." Thankfully, nobody else needed ice because they'd have thought me insane as I stood there talking out loud to the vending machine.

"Sure, we can talk." I was startled enough by the voice to drop the change I was holding. I turned to see Nash standing at the entrance to the ice machine alcove.

"Fuck!" I stooped to pick up the coins and felt a presence next to me, turning to see Nash right there reaching for coins next to me.

"Spence, I'm not a guy you need to worry about. I mean, if you want to pay for my services, then we can talk price and requests, but I'd bet you've got enough shit going on that you need a friend more than anything."

Nash knelt next to me. He took my left hand and put change into it, offering a reassuring smile.

"You want a soda?" I felt like a lecherous old fool, not for the first time in my life.

"Diet Coke, please. I'm watching my weight." I gave him an assessing look that I was sure said, "Why?" but I nodded and started to stand, my right knee not supporting me at all, which was embarrassing as hell.

Nash reached out a hand to help me. I was sure my face was blood red, but I took it to stand. "It's an old football injury from high school."

One day I'd need knee replacement surgery, but I wasn't ready to admit it yet. I wore my stubbornness like a badge of honor.

Nash helped me up, and I turned to the vending machine, getting the two of us soft drinks. I glanced at Nash, who was fitting the plastic bag inside the ice bucket with a smirk on his face. Yeah, I was in a bit of a hurry to get out of the room and had forgotten the bag. Shoot me.

"So, uh, where are you from?" My voice was loud so I could be heard over the clatter of the ice dropping into the bucket.

Nash chuckled. "Texas. You're from down around here somewhere, right?"

"Yes. Our hometown is southeast. Norfolk is the big city down here. Actually, Vani and I lived near there for years. Our families still live in the area."

"What did you do before you became a Senator?" We walked to our room, with Nash opening the door he'd left unlocked by moving the dead bolt latch to keep the door from closing. It was good he'd thought to do it. The key was inside.

After we settled, I slid off my sneakers and sat on one side of the bed while Nash took the other, both of us leaning against the headboard. Nash's bag was on the bench at the end of the bed next to mine.

"I practiced real estate law in my father's firm. I hated it, but I'd gone to law school to study it at my father's insistence, so it was what I knew."

"Sounds kind of dull." One size of his sexy mouth tilted in a half-smile.

"Dull doesn't begin to cover it. Once I graduated UVA Law, Vani and I moved to Hampton Roads. Vani had been taking night classes and was studying to get her real estate license. I guess all those nights helping me study real estate law rubbed off on her. Anyway, she got a job working at a realty office in Norfolk, and we had a little house not far from my parents.

"I got assigned to a complicated eminent domain case against the Commonwealth because the government wanted to seize ten acres of a family farm to put in an access road for a new public works warehouse. They chose the land because it was closer to the railyard which would cut off miles of delivery—" I could see I was losing him.

"Anyway, I won. That was when the party knocked on my door. I've always thought it was strange that I was even noticed, but I later found out it was one of my father's cronies who brought me to the attention of the higher ups in state politics, and the rest, as they say, is history. Now, your turn." I was rambling, but it was an occupational hazard of being a politician.

"Okay. Cycled through eight foster homes before I was put in a teen boys' group home. I was kicked out when I turned eighteen, and I've been making my own way for as long as I can remember." There was no emotion attached to the story at all.

My first thought was that Jay could have ended up like Nash—nobody looking out for him and nobody loving him—and the idea of it made my stomach turn. "Do you know anything about your parents?"

Nash offered a steely expression before he responded. "Nope. And I don't want to. That's the past."

The comment hit home. I had parents, and I wished I didn't know anything about them. "Okay, uh, how'd you end up in DC?"

Nash took a swig of his soda before settling onto the bed, his head at the foot. He'd stacked a bunch of pillows behind him, and he looked comfortable. Myself, I was a squirming mess.

"I've done everything from washing dishes to roughnecking on an oil rig. I had to learn to survive on the streets, so I did what I had to do. It's a tough world out there, Senator. Not for the weak of will or the faint of heart. In polite company, I'm considered a man of the world, but when it comes down to it, I'm a whore and an opportunist just tryin' to get by."

I watched Nash settle into the pillows, folding his hands behind his head, likely waiting for judgment from me. In a way, we were similar, but he faced his demons head on. Of the two of us, I was the coward.

"Of all of those jobs, which ones did you enjoy the most?" I was genuinely interested in his response.

Nash looked at the ceiling for a minute before he glanced in my direction. I took a drink of my soda and placed the glass of ice on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

The light was fading outside, so I reached over and turned on the lamp. I took in the long sight of him, seeing a handsome man who was more comfortable in the shadows than in the spotlight. That used to be me. Two terms as a senator had cured me of that notion.

"I like bartending at fancy parties. The society elite are a special breed all unto themselves."

I nodded. He had that right. "I'm going to sound like a snobby bastard, but your incredibly well spoken for a guy who didn't go to college."

Again, he offered that sexy chuckle from deep in his broad chest. "I learn quick. I learned that dropping consonants and speaking like I had a mouth full of marbles didn't get me respect from anyone, which is why I watched a lot of old movies where everyone had perfect diction. I also picked up things from people I met along the way. I am truly a product of my environment."

And, by his logic, I was clearly a product of mine. A man in the closet with a wife who looked like she just jumped off a wedding cake, and an adopted son who was smart as a whip, with no help from me at all. Jay had the guts to come out of the closet, while I cowered in the corner of my self-imposed prison. Well, until someone decided to shove me out of it with a kick in the naked ass.

"Why would someone want to hurt me? Why did they feel it was necessary to humiliate me and my friend? To what end? What did they gain?" I was thinking out loud again.

Nash moved closer to me, sitting up and staring at me. "Who are your enemies? Who are your friends? Usually, the guilty party comes from one of those camps."

I looked at him for a moment as his words sunk in. I still wasn't entirely satisfied that Mario had nothing to do with it. If he was, as had been alleged, in love with me, was that motive enough for him to ruin me and Blaire in the process? Was his jealousy so blinding he thought he could sweep in and save me after destroying my life?

"I went to the party to confront him. I don't know Fitzpatrick well enough to be invited to his birthday party, really. He was more of an acquaintance than a friend, but now, I'm indebted to him. Wonder if that was his ploy?"

"My boss at the escort service says nobody does anything in DC without calculating the pros and cons. If your friend outed you, what was he looking to gain, and if Sean set you up, wouldn't that make him look like a big fucking slimeball in the LGBTQ community he claims to fight for? Outing people is a big no-no, isn't it?" Nash had a point there.

"Your boss is a smart person. Nobody does a damn thing in DC without there being a price. What's yours?" If he knew the law of the concrete jungle, then he was angling for something. Better to know the price upfront.

Nash laughed loudly, tossing his head back in the process. "Oh, you wanna talk money now?" It was a challenge, and as much as I wanted to accept it, my head was too jumbled to do anything justice.

"No. Look, you don't have to stay. I mean, I can pay you for your time. I'd imagine your boss wants his cut anyway."

"My boss is a woman, and you're not a trick. You and Vani are my friends, and I always look out for friends. I don't have that many."

"A woman? Wow. There was a woman back in the seventies or eighties who operated an escort service in Manhattan. Her family prided itself on being blue bloods who claimed to be able to trace her lineage all the way back to the Mayflower. Her escort service made money hand over fist, from what the gossip mill churned out. I've heard the story of how all the power brokers on Wall Street and Capitol Hill were scared shitless that their names would be released as clients. The woman was arrested, if the story is true, and ended up writing a book about her experiences in the business."

I had no idea why that story stuck with me, but I vaguely remembered my mother asking my father if she should be worried about hearing his name as the trial progressed. Dad made a lot of trips to New York for cases. I had to wonder if he'd cheated on my mom. Was that the part of my scandal that hit home the most for her? Could that be the reason my parents turned their backs on me?

"Well, I'm not sure about her genealogy, but she let it slip once that she's married to a power player in DC. She used it as a threat against another escort that if he didn't fall in line and do as his john asked, she'd make sure he got blackballed in town, and he'd never get a job working on the Hill. I overheard her take the call when she was showing me the apartment I sublet from her." Of course, Nash's comments intrigued the hell out of me.

"Can I ask her name? I've never had anyone take me into the inner circle where names are passed around." I was joking but it was true. I hadn't been around long enough to be trusted by the senior senators. That club was elite. I wouldn't have been invited until John Buford, the senior senator for the Commonwealth, retired, died, or was defeated. Instead, it was me who was defeated.

"Caroline Bering is the name on my paycheck, but she has another name tacked on the end that she doesn't use for business," Nash answered, eyes closed as if in thought.

I racked my brain, but I knew no one named Bering who would be a power player in town. It didn't mean they didn't exist. It just meant I didn't know them.

"Well, anyway, I don't know her. I'm gonna take a shower unless you want to go first." I got up and opened my duffel bag to pull out some pajamas and a toiletry kit.

"No, go ahead. Mind if I check the tube?" Nash picked up the television remote from the table. I nodded before I headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, Spence? Caroline's last name is hyphenated. I forgot about that. Turner. Caroline Bering-Turner," he added, stopping me in my tracks.