It was true. The way I was glaring at my phone, you’d think it was spewing personal insults. I relaxed my grip. “It’s not about Wallis.” I said. “I’m just doing some light cyberstalking.”

I’d drifted from my email folder into Google, to a page left up from last night.

“Who are we vetting?”

“See for yourself.” I handed Bo the evidence.

The McFarland Group, Who We Are:

Ariel Greer

The world’s most innovative companies turn to the McFarland Group because our team members know how they work, and how to make government work for them. Ari is an integral part of our commitment to deliver for our clients, having experience both inside and outside government in America and abroad.

“She’s attractive,” Bo said.

He wasn’t wrong. In her headshot, Ariel’s face was bright, perky, but in an intelligent, animated way. She looked at the camera like taking a picture this gorgeous was easy. This was a girl who knew her best side. She knew where to part her hair.

“She’s dating my friend,” I said. “Tell me what you think.”

“After consulting on the environment, her latest job was with a multinational energy corporation.”

“Did you get to the part where she calls herself ‘A citizen of the world’?” I asked.

“I imagine this is the kind of woman who owns an American flag bikini and calls herself patriotic.” Bo handed back my phone.

“I shouldn’t judge her. People in government leave for K Street all the time.”

“You don’t have to tell me why people become mercenaries in Armani,” Bo said. “They want to feel what it’s like to accomplish something. Unlike you and me, who can’t even move the needle. Which friend is she dating?”

“My friend Atlas. You’ve met him before.”

“Yes, I remember. The English guy,” Bo said, pensive. “Huh.”

“Why, huh?” I asked.

Bo hummed. “I got the impression that he was into someone else.” He stood, adjusting his shirtsleeves.

Below, Miles was winding down. I rose, feeling confident that this job, at least, I could do. It was clear in a way other parts of my life certainly were not. “It is with optimism in the wisdom of my fellow senators,” Miles concluded, “that I yield the floor.”

Fourteen

My door opened, and I heard the sound of paws and collar tags jangling. “I’m back here,” I called to Wallis. “Don’t let that dog into my bedroom.”

Too late. Crabtree bounded in and began sniffing in corners, in half-open drawers. I closed my computer and groaned. “This dog is a menace,” I said, rising from my bed to snatch a bra out of his mouth as Wallis appeared in my doorway, her hair up, athleisure on.