Benjamin Cantrell

I couldn't figure out the animosity of the current administration and told that to Dave. He said that once my security clearance was done, I would get to find out. As a senior Senate staffer, I could dig around records with little or no interference.

Oh, a spy. Yay!

Moira and Tara seemed like besties when they exited their helicopter. They parted with the fake kisses, Moira coming over to my car. "Did you have a good time?" I asked.

"I certainly did," Moira smiled. "Tara thought I should be an actress instead of a companion and offered to make me a star."

"Well, you are really hot. I'd ask for your autograph."

She blushed. "You can stop that any time now."

"Nope. Wait a second, didn't she know you are CJ's PA?"

"When I told Tara that I used to be CJ's personal assistant, she got this confused look on her face. Evidently she thought I was someone outside the club."

"That is so very odd," I mused. "Maybe it is just your contact with me that is changing peoples' perception of you."

"I wish it wouldn't be like that. I don't want to be propositioned by every creepy-ass man in Washington, DC."

"Probably some women too," Pat added from the front seat. "If you were a magician, Moira, I would say it's a low-level glamour. But you're not, so I don't know what is happening."

"Well, if it were a glamour, I would use it to make myself less attractive, not more," Moira scoffed. "I don't like being hit on, except for Benji."

"Thank you," I whispered to her.

Moira snaked her arm through mine so she could clasp my hand. "Very welcome."

***

We didn't get out of bed until after eleven hours. I called CJ to tell her that Tara was trying to make Moira a star. She said that she had already tried that tack with Moira, and gotten gently rejected. Jokingly, she said that she would kick Tara's ass on Moira's behalf.

Moira came into the room to tell me that breakfast was ready, and CJ was speechless. She even went so far as to quiz Moira on things they had done together. Moira was more confused than ever, and accused CJ of making fun of her. CJ made a motion with her hands, ending with her locking her pinky fingers together. Moira did the same, and then bent down and gave me a peck on the cheek before reminding me that breakfast was ready.

CJ willingly gave up what the hand signal meant. She and Moira had been close from the beginning. When CJ had gotten engaged the first time, Moira had felt betrayed and had broken off their intimate relationship. Moira had been there to pick up the pieces from CJ's three divorces. Moira told CJ that if she got married again, she would try to win my heart.

I was confused because CJ hadn't told me what the sign meant. She told me that it meant 'On all my love for you.' CJ told me that it was a vow, saying that she was swearing on her love for Moira that she wasn't making fun of her, that she was telling the truth.

That meant a lot to me. I asked CJ if I could use it, and she told me to share it with Moira if I truly felt that way about her. CJ smiled when she said that I could only use it with her on our wedding day.

Fair enough.

I blew a kiss to CJ and ended the call.

Moira was patiently waiting in the kitchen, pulling our food out of the warmer after I sat down. As we finished, I asked Moira how she had planned to win my heart. She replied that she would have bribed Juanita for a list of my favorite love songs and sung them until I asked her out.

She got a smile when I told her that she probably would have only had to bribe Juanita once. This was because if she had actually offered Juanita a bribe and I hadn't paid attention to her, Juanita would have kicked my ass.

After Moira had showered and dressed, I called Pat and asked her to come to my condo, that I had something important to ask her. There was a knocking on my door two minutes later.

Marti was with her, and I invited them both into my den. Then I posed the question: While Moira was talent-negative, was it probable that my child within her womb was a magician?

The lights came on over their collective heads. Pat said that it was entirely possible that my child could be effecting positive changes to Moira's visible physiology.

Moira was non-plussed. She wanted to know if there was any way to reverse the changes. She didn't want to get hit on by anybody else because she had already found the people she wanted to spend her life with.

Pat and Marti let out an 'awww,' making Moira's face redder than it already was. She met my eyes and gave me a nod and a smile. I told her that I would get her a nice ring set and hopefully that would keep some of the lecherous men away. Marti said that she would break the hands of those who didn't get the message.

I told them that I really didn't know what to do about the possibility that the baby could be emitting magic. Moira paused for a moment, then said that she hoped the baby couldn't read her mind, because all the dirty thoughts she had about me would scar it for life.

The roar of laughter from me and Marti and Pat caused Moira to blush red again. Marti said that Moira's placenta would filter out things like that, but a tangible emotion like love would translate just fine.

***

My first flight to Washington was a treat. The plane model was dubbed the Marble-4 by its designer, Johan Birch. Dave saw me looking on the outside, which was painted with red and white stripes, with random blue fields with stars inside.

I commented that it was a very patriotic jet, and he agreed. He cut me off before I could comment on a conflict of interest. The plane actually belonged to his wife Tara, and the only thing he billed the taxpayers for was the cost of fuel and occasional repair.

My retort actually surprised him. I knew from my chats with Gerard Lefort that the Marble-4 series were given and taken, never bought nor sold. As the person who technically owned the aircraft was Johan, it could be viewed as a conflict. He mulled on that for a moment, then told me he'd buy me a hat to keep that secret under.

On the flight to Washington, I read through the literature on the plane itself. The flight from LA to DC would use less than five hundred liters of fuel, costing the taxpayers a mere six hundred dollars. With full tanks, the aircraft could fly from New York to Johannesburg to Mumbai to Sydney to Tokyo, to LA then back to New York without refueling.

Holy shit.

Dave, obviously knowing what I was looking at, said he had never taken that flight. I admitted that it sounded really interesting, to have that ability, and he told me to keep that secret under my hat as well.

Once we cleared Capitol Security, Dave took me on a tour of the building, pointing out certain things, but knowing I was cataloging everything. We finally reached his offices, right next to the other California Senator, Madeline Singer.

His offices were okay, smaller than the ones he had in LA, but they seemed more lively. There were phones ringing everywhere, and people rushing to answer them. But the staffers didn't seem harried, they were actually enjoying the hustle and bustle.

There were six that were not happy to see me standing there with Dave. They gave me polite nods, but I knew I would have to watch my ass around them.

Dave showed me my office, actually the one I would be sharing with Kylie, and said it would be very rare for us both to be in that office at the same time. The desks were the same, topped with glass and sitting back-to-back. I would have to thank the goddess for LCD monitors, because it would have been a mess otherwise.

The master suite, Dave's office, was immaculate. While everything in the outer office was white, shiny and new, his office was old. Even the sunlight coming through the curtains looked old. There was a 'gentleman's table' and two high-backed leather chairs off to the side of the door. Dave indicated those with his hand and went over to his liquor cabinet.

"Senator Fitzgerald was like, a hundred, wasn't he?" I teased.

"Something like that. Drink?"

"Sure. It's not like I'm going to be able to drive for the rest of my effing life."

Dave chuckled. "What's your non-poison poison?"

"I'll risk some of that Stolichnaya you've got up there."

He pulled two glasses off the shelf beside his liquor cabinet and popped open his ice bucket. A couple cubes and a draw of vodka in each glass and he joined me. "Do you think she's going to take another shot at you?"

"Alexandra? I think so."

"Kyle and Natalie Birch seem to think so as well," Dave nodded. "What's your take on her?"

"I think it has something to do with the day I met CJ. Maybe I was hiding from Alexandra via my wedding band. Hobbit-style."

"That's an interesting viewpoint. You think that Louise was protecting you from beyond the grave?"

"Even after death? Probably. I think I also know why Alexandra took a shot at Juanita."

"Do tell," Dave prodded.

"For the longest, Juanita has been teasing me about how the club was my wife and any human woman would be my mistress. Maybe, somehow, Alexandra took her shot at Juanita because she thought Juanita was my wife."

"Interesting how things can be so literal," Dave nodded. "I'm told psychic energy is malleable, it can take a form but not as a person."

"Maybe. I hope that doesn't put any of you guys in danger."

"Kyle's guardians are pretty good, my security details aren't slouches either. We'll have to get your protective detail some pins, though."

"Pins?" I asked.

"Certain countries that we have to deal with don't like magicians. Magic gives people, almost all women, power that the leaders of those countries don't want women to have."

"With you so far," I nodded.

"These countries, China, Russia, and the entirety of the Middle East, have banned magic within their borders. They have technology that can sense magicians, so they can choose not to do business with any person who is a magician."

"What do the pins do?"

"They keep the magic-sensing technology from sensing the magicians."

"Okay," I nodded. "If my detail doesn't have them already, I'll make sure they do. Can I assume you have one for me?"

"I would if you were a magician," Dave teased. "You're a wizard, that can't be sensed."

"So, you backed away from me in Ares City, why?"

"Just a precaution. Unless my life is in danger, I don't like magic being used around me. It has a way of sticking to you anyway, like glitter."

"Glitter," I snorted. "Maybe pixie dust?"

Dave waved his hand at me. "Pixie dust is consumed in spells. That shit's expensive, more expensive than gold, gram for gram."

"You seem versed in the lingo," I pointed out.

"Benjamin, I have to be. Finish your vodka, we're going to lunch."

We finished our drinks and went back out into the main office. There was still a little hustle, but it was now people munching on takeout food and slurping on drinks from styrofoam cups. I held my tongue on the styrofoam cups and plates, because I knew that there was absolutely no way that stuff was going to a landfill. Not from this office.

Dave teased me about the flicker on my face when I had seen all the styrofoam. He explained that a recycling center, which predated the current administration, took and recycled everything from the government buildings inside the beltway. From the buildings the styrofoam containers and their contents were collected, mashed together inside vehicles and hauled away.

In the center, the containers were shredded and run through a vat. The leftover food sank to the bottom and was recycled as compost and sold to local gardening companies. Dave explained that the company had used to sell that compost to the National Park Service for use on public lands throughout the city, but that had stopped as well.

His expression was somber as he admitted to me that he had never seen a president so dead-set against recycling and clean technologies. And what was even more amazing was that Arnold had won a second term.

When we reached the restaurant, our doors were immediately pulled open. I followed Dave inside, and we were seated by a smiling hostess with a captivating walk.

I had seen menus with no prices on them before. The practice was snobbish, but it was a way of life. Kyle and Melissa joined us as the appetizer arrived. Dave sat a nondescript black box on the table and hit a button on the side. I heard a squealing noise in my ears, but it quickly subsided. Dave explained that they couldn't use the magic version of the cone of silence spell because the restaurant had an international clientele. I quipped that there were probably not any international clients at my club, given the amount of magic users that had been traipsing through there over the years.

Kyle got the rundown on what Dave and I had discussed. He totally agreed that Alexandra had taken a shot at Juanita because she was literally my right-hand woman at the club and that the connection was tangible. He assured me that my club was being looked after. I didn't have to ask if he meant my people.

At the end of the meal, Kyle suggested to Dave that I should see the other side of him. Dave gave me an appraising eye, an even more intense look than he had before, and agreed.

Usually I minded being referred to in the third person, but there was something in Melissa's eyes that told me to just roll with it. She and Kyle excused themselves, leaving just me and Dave. "How well can you keep a secret?"

"You're shitting me, right?" I asked. "Everything you guys have shown me over the last twelve weeks?"

"Mars will come out soon. There's a Chinese rover maybe a week out from the edge of Marstropolis, and we know they already have satellite pictures of the city. What will they do with that information? I don't know."

"The club?" I whispered.

"We make half-assed stabs at security there anymore. Our reach has gotten pretty wide, and there are people coming and going all the time."

"I give up then," I shrugged. "What else is there?".

"This one's so big, I'll have to get you another hat," Dave joked. "Come on."

Okay.

"But I don't wear hats, especially baseball caps," I groaned.

"Figurative, not literal," Dave responded.

"As long as your hats don't mess up my hair."