Waiting to Happen

Note: This story has a romantic plot and there's quite some build-up before the sex so, heads up! Please feel free to give comments or feedback regarding my writing. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy this one!

***

One

Here we go, I thought as soon as I saw Hailey Byrne.

I had spent the better part of Monday morning waiting for this moment while stuck behind a desk under the watchful eye of one Miss Elizabeth Barton—a heavyset, late twenties, Caucasian woman who fancied herself Queen of the New Recruits.

Okay, Elizabeth wasn't that bad. She was actually quite helpful, if a tad bossy. But I didn't exactly volunteer for Matthew Byrne's mayoral campaign just so I could man the phones all day. Also, I hated being watched which was funny, really, considering my line of work.

Maybe I should have introduced myself first.

Claire Torres, 25 years old. Licensed private investigator. I wish I could say that I was a super sleuth or something, but I was no hero.

For the past three years, I had been working as an independent contractor for the PR/law firm Garrett & Platt, researching information that would help them provide pleasing outcomes for their clients, which were mostly politicians and CEOs. In other words, I dug up dirt on their clients' opponents—also mostly politicians and CEOs.

Now, sure, there were other, less morally-compromised jobs out there but, frankly, none in my skill set that paid well enough to cover my law school expenses and my 73-year-old grandmother's medical bills. On top of that, the hours were very flexible and I had the option to say no, which I actually had not had to use that much.

I drew the line at entrapment but with G&P's clientele, that was hardly ever necessary. There was always something—some dark secret that these big wigs didn't want to be exposed—and finding it was usually pretty easy, given today's technology. Of course, every once in a while, I came across something that required a bit more than just typing the person's name in data bases and scouring the internet.

Case in point: Matthew Byrne.

Last week, the 31-year-old lawyer had announced his candidacy and Carl Radnor—the incumbent—had wasted no time enlisting G&P's services to help him take the new guy out of the race.

I had run Byrne's name through my data base software twice—once for this state, where he had lived most of his life, and another for where he had gone to college and law school—and I had come up empty both times. The internet had not yielded any useful results either, which meant that I would actually have to get close to the guy to get some inside dirt—not an easy feat during campaign periods when these politicians were constantly surrounded by people that generally tend to limit access to them.

There were others, however, that could help me get what I needed. People who were close to Matthew and just might know something. People who might inadvertently slip up and point me exactly towards where I should be digging. People like his 29-year-old younger sister, Hailey, who also happened to head one of his three campaign headquarters in the city inside this leased office space.

I sprang into action the moment she emerged from her office. I could only see flashes of Hailey's unmistakable red hair from the wall of about eight people surrounding her. They all wore the same light blue "Vote for Byrne" shirts as they briskly walked towards the door, clearly headed out. This could be my only chance to get Hailey's attention today.

"Miss Diaz—" Elizabeth started when I stood up, using the fake surname that I had used to sign up for the campaign. I did not hear the rest of what she was saying as I tried to make a quick beeline towards my target.

"Miss Byrne!" I called out, still a good distance away. I saw the top of Hailey's head turn slightly at the mention of her name but she had kept walking.

"Miss Byrne! Over here!" I yelled again, jumping up and down as I tried to move faster. I was hoping to catch her eye but I caught the sharp corner of a desk instead—right on the bone of my hip.

"Motherf—" I hissed, reflexively doubling over at the sudden pain. People nearby started to stare, no doubt wondering why this idiot was causing a scene.

"Yes?" I heard a soft female voice ask and looked up to see Hailey standing a few feet away in front of me. She wore the same campaign shirt as the others over washed out denims and sneakers, as well as a curious expression on her face as I straightened up and began approaching her.

"Hi!" I smiled, still clutching my left hip when I finally reached her. I made eye contact, ready to introduce myself—or at least my undercover self—to her, and stared right into the most mesmerizing baby blue eyes I had ever seen.

Now, I had done my due diligence before all this. I knew that Hailey was an openly gay and single pre-school teacher who had taken time off this summer to help with her brother's campaign. I knew from her online pictures that she was attractive—about 5'5", slender, and fair-complexioned with long red hair, blue eyes, and full lips. I just didn't figure that I would be this attracted to her in person.

The woman was gorgeous. Her thick auburn tresses cascaded in waves over her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. She wore no makeup and the light freckles across her nose were the perfect blemish to her otherwise creamy complexion. Her rosy lips looked invitingly soft, contradicting with the stubborn streak implied by the tiny cleft on her chin.

"What can I do for you," Hailey prompted when I merely stood there staring. She squinted slightly to read the nametag above my right breast before looking back up at me and finishing her question. "Claire?"

I took a breath to clear my head, determined not to let some silly attraction distract me from doing my job. "Yes, um, Miss Byrne," I began, clearing my throat.

"It's Hailey," she interjected with a warm smile. "But, go on."

"Alright. Hailey," I couldn't help but smile back. "I'd like to do more."

She took a step back and regarded me for a moment. I gave her my most winning smile as her eyes roamed over me, knowing exactly the version of me that she was seeing.

I was a curvy 5'6", tanned, with dark brown eyes and a pert nose. Today, I had chosen to wear my straight black hair in a long, loose braid and applied little makeup on my face, except for some eyeliner and a scarlet tint that made my thin lips seem fuller. I wore dark jeans, a pair of boots, and a cream-colored shirt with the words "Be the Change" on it, hoping to come off as the young, political activist I was trying to project.

"How long have you been helping here?" Hailey asked after a moment, her brows furrowing slightly.

"I'm sorry, Hails, but—" Elizabeth interrupted, but Hailey held a hand up as she waited for my answer.

"It's my first day," I told her, and I couldn't tell if Hailey was a bit surprised or amused by my admission.

"And you want to 'do more'?"

I nodded empathically. "I want to help out with Mr. Byrne's campaign, not just make phone calls or hand out flyers! I want to be out there, actually doing stuff—like you."

"Like me..." The redhead repeated slowly, now definitely amused. Hailey glanced to where her team stood waiting for her near the exit. "Hey, Mac! Do we have an extra shirt for Claire?"

"Yup," one of the guys replied. He was tall—about 6'4"—with light brown hair, a neatly-trimmed beard, and a stocky frame, but he looked just about as intimidating as a giant teddy bear to me. Hailey's eyes returned to mine.

"Guess you're coming with us then!" She shrugged, smiling as she linked her arm with mine. She started towards the door, unable to see my own triumphant grin as I tried to ignore how incredible she smelled or how her arm would lightly brush against the swell of my right breast as we walked together, and focus instead on what actually mattered.

I was in.

.***

I sat inside a moving van for the next fifteen minutes, squeezed in between Mac the Bear and an older Hispanic woman named Connie while the rest of the team continued their excited chatter. I tuned them out, my mind trying to come up with ways to get closer to Hailey. She had sat up front, silently working on her phone until the van stopped on one of the busiest intersections in the city.

She got out quickly, along with Mac and a tall, African-American woman named Celine, who—I knew from Hailey's social media—was one of her best friends. I looked around the van, uncertain if I was supposed to stay put like the others.

"Let's go, Hotshot!" Bear hollered from where he stood on the sidewalk and I turned my attention on to him, only to find his gaze directly pointed at me.

"Me?" I asked stupidly, immediately disliking the nickname he had decided to bestow upon me. I had to admit it was only fair, however, since I was already going about calling him Bear in my head.

"Yeah, Claire, come on!" Hailey smiled at me, looking up from the conversation she was having with Celine as they each held a stack of glossy, colored paper in their hands. The van drove off as soon as the doors closed behind me, leaving the four of us standing there in an imperfect square.

Then Bear approached Celine, and I watched Hailey divide her stack of paper into two as she walked over to me. I took the one she held out and absently glanced at it, only to find Matthew Byrne's handsome face staring back at me.

The guy looked good on paper, I'd tell you that. He seemed like the typical all-American politician—young, with green eyes, clean-cut sandy brown hair and a white-toothed smile. He posed in his tan suit and striped tie, looking as firm and strong as the platforms clearly outlined below his picture on the flyer.

I looked up at Hailey as it dawned on me what I was being tasked to do. "You want me to hand these out?"

"You wanted to do what I do, right?" She shrugged, grinning. I nodded, a bit chagrined at the realization of just how far I had stuck my foot in my mouth earlier.

"Alright, then you can take this corner, I'll take the one across the street, and these two know how to find their own spots." Hailey directed as she handed me a bottle of water. She then took the campaign shirt that Bear held out to her and readied it in her hands.

"Oh, and wear this," she told me, stepping closer so she could put the garment over my head.

For a moment, I couldn't see anything while the fabric covered my eyes, but I could feel Hailey's body pressing softly against mine as the feint smell of her perfume once again clouded my mind. And then the shirt passed through my head and she stepped back, brushing away a strand of her that had fallen across my face as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

"I'll see you later," she said right before she moved to cross the street, promptly leaving me on that sidewalk with a stack of flyers in one hand, bottled water in the other, and a shirt hanging around my neck.

I stood there unmoving for a few seconds, unable to stop myself from watching the carefree sway of her hips as Hailey walked away. How the hell was I supposed to do my job when I could barely get a word in with her?

I shook my head, vowing to do better the next time Hailey and I interacted. I set the bottle of water down and finished putting the shirt on, glancing at the others who had already begun working. It was only half past 11 AM and people were scarce.

I looked across the street to where Hailey stood. She had her profile turned to me as she talked with an elderly couple with flyers already in hand, both seeming very interested in what she was saying. Meanwhile, the few people who had passed my way couldn't even be bothered to look at what I was trying to hand them.

But then, all of a sudden, it was lunch time and the traffic of people in the intersection was no longer slow-going. Soon, I became lost in the sea of passersby and the task at hand. I did not notice how much time had passed until I saw Hailey among the crowd crossing the street towards me.

"Hey," she smiled as she approached, inclining her head slightly as I smiled back. She had her hair now up in a high ponytail as she held a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard coffee cup holder in the other. "Let's find a spot."

I followed her as she walked past me, turning a corner where there was a tiny park in front of a corporate building. She sat on an empty bench and handed me a cup.

"Thanks," I told her as I took it, following suit and settling down beside her.

"I didn't know how you take it, so I just got you black." Hailey said, handing me the paper bag next. "There's cream and sugar in there, and glazed donuts. I hope that's fine with you."

"Of course," I replied, taking two packs of sugar and a donut before handing the bag back to her.

"So, Claire Diaz—" Hailey started as I began preparing my coffee, letting me know she had at least looked my 'name' up. I glanced at her when she paused. "Hispanic?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Asian, actually. Filipino," I clarified, grinning at the slight surprise that flashed across her lovely face. "I get that a lot."

Hailey gave a small little laugh before she continued. "How do you like handing out flyers so far?" She said, taking a small bite of her donut.

I took a sip of my coffee and proudly showed her the four remaining flyers in my hand. "I owe you an apology—" I smiled sheepishly, but Hailey shook her head.

"No, no, I get it," she said. "We all want to help. We all want to be 'where the action is'. The thing is, making phone calls, giving out flyers? That's a big part of it."

I nodded as Hailey went on. "Our campaign is a small one, Claire," she told me, her eyes blue and earnest. "We have little budget and we need all the volunteers and donations we can get. We don't have much to spend on ads either, so these flyers help."

"You can reach a lot more people with social media," I suggested even though I already knew about the campaign's social media PR efforts.

"We have that, too." Hailey's smile was both patient and disarming. "But there's more impact when it's personal and not just for them—for us, too. I mean, I get to see and hear what people need and then relay that to my brother."

"What's he like?" I asked her, seeing an opening and taking it.

Hailey's auburn brows furrowed slightly. "Who? Matt?"

"Mr. Byrne," I nodded and again, there was that soft little laugh.

"I'm pretty sure he'd want you to call him Matt." She smiled. She looked a bit pensive for a second before she said, "He cares."

It was a good, safe answer but it wasn't the kind that I was looking for.

"Yeah, but what's he like?" I prodded. "He can't possibly be as straight-laced as he looks in pictures. I mean, does he party? Does he have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, you're one of those," Hailey said, looking both a little surprised and disappointed, as if she had not expected me to be 'one of those'. Still, she smiled. "Right now, he's single—at least as far as I know. And no, I don't think I'd ever describe my brother as 'straight-laced'. He's actually a lot of fun to be around with."

I leaned in, ready to ask more questions now that we were finally on the subject, but Celine's voice interrupted us.

"Hails!" Celine called from a few yards away, barely casting me a second glance. "Van's coming back in two minutes!"

"Okay!" Hailey answered, raising her thumb in the air for a brief moment before she turned back to me. "All set?"

I took one last bite of my donut and nodded as I chewed the mouthful, making Hailey smile yet again as we stood to leave. I wasn't sure I liked how she seemed to find me amusing, but there was no time to dwell on that because, soon, we were back in the van with Bear and the others.

They all called me Hotshot by now. I took it all in stride, even laughing as they teased me about the flyers and, for one brief moment, I caught Hailey looking at me. I could only see her eyes, but I could tell that she was smiling as she winked at me through the rearview mirror.

I spent the afternoon back at HQ, and did not see Hailey again as I contritely made phone calls until it was time to go home.

Angie, our 46-year-old neighbor, greeted me as I entered our apartment. "Good day?" I asked her as she prepared to leave.

"Good day." She smiled, assuring me that my grandmother had already had her dinner and was now sleeping in her room before Angie left.

I ate my own dinner alone while I worked through other cases on my laptop, checking in on my grandmother from time to time. It was a few hours before I decided to call it a night and showered. A thousand thoughts constantly ran through my head, but it was the image of Hailey's smiling blue eyes that my mind kept returning to, and it was the last thing I saw before I finally slept.

Two

I did not see much of Hailey at HQ the next day either. She stopped by once—looking beautiful in a navy blue shirt and light wash denims—to have a little chat with Elizabeth in the morning. I stared at her, hoping to catch her attention like I did yesterday, but she was too busy to do anything other than send a quick smile my way before she and Celine headed out.

By the time I turned off my computer, I was starting to think volunteering might not be the best way into Hailey's inner circle after all. I only had one more week to produce results for G&P and it felt like I had just wasted a whole day actually working for Byrne's campaign. I grabbed my backpack off the floor, resolving to give this ruse just one more chance before I used a different tactic.

I was on my way out when I bumped into Hailey, headed in the same direction.

"Hey, Claire!" She greeted as I fell in step next to her. "Heading home?"

"Yeah. You?" I told her, trying to turn what she had likely said in passing into a conversation.

Hailey shook her head as we exited HQ. "I just need to get something in my apartment before I head out again." She answered, giving me a little wave as she turned towards the parking lot. "Take ca—"

"Can I come?" I blurted out, surprising the both of us a little.

Hailey stopped and laughingly faced towards me. "Do you even know where I'm going?"

"No," I lied. I knew that she volunteered at an LGBTQ+ Youth Center called Doors Open on Tuesday and Thursday nights.

She considered me for a moment before shaking her head. "Okay, let's go," she smiled.

I followed Hailey as she walked to her car and got in the passenger seat. She talked about Doors Open while she drove—how it was a non-profit organization that provided mentoring, counseling, and, in some cases, shelter for LGBTQ+ youth and how Matthew had been helping raise funds and providing free legal assistance for it since it had been established six years ago. I sat there, pretending I didn't already know all this, and made a mental note to check on the organization's accounts.

"No peepholes," I observed less than twenty minutes later as we stood in front of Hailey's third floor apartment unit.

"I like surprises," she quipped over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and opened it. "Come on in."

"Oh, you trust way too easily."

I had not meant to say what I was thinking out loud, but Hailey heard my muttered musing as I followed her in and stopped to look at me.

"You think that's a bad thing?" She asked.

In this world? Yes. But I knew better than to tell Hailey that.

"I wouldn't say 'bad' exactly," I answered slowly as I groped for a kinder word. "More like, unwise."

A cloud momentarily crossed Hailey's pretty features. It wasn't that she looked disappointed with my reply. It was more like she was sad for me, and that made me a little uncomfortable.

"I mean, I'm practically a stranger," I told her, feeling a sudden need to defend myself. I decided that my best recourse was to try and lighten up the conversation. "I could be an axe murderer or something, you know."