“Mr. Carrigan?” I didn’t want to waste his time, but the woman he’d kissed in front of my apartment door was a woman who would be a little unsure about everything, a little meek. “It’s Jo. From the bar. The woman you gave the ride to the other night?” I made every sentence sound like a question, like I wasn’t even sure of my own name, and I kept my voice soft, like I thought the phone might bite if I startled it.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror next to my bed—dark hair messy, lips slightly swollen and bearing traces of last night’s lipstick. A similar scarlet shade ringing the mouth of the gin bottle next to my bed. My face was creased with sleep, eyelashes tacky with mascara. Some pearl-clutching good girl I looked.

“Yes.” He didn’t say anything else. I waited. “I remember,” he said, finally.

“I don’t think I really thanked you properly, it was such a kind—”

“Yes,” he said, cutting me off. “It was kind of me. And very foolish, too. I have to go. Please don’t call here again.”

“But you have my bracelet— I mean, I can’t find my bracelet,” I said, the words gushing out of me. It wouldn’t be impossible to navigate the sting still if Carrigan refused to see me voluntarily, but it would be trickier. Too many coincidences and he’d wonder if I was stalking him. Besides, I was running out of time. “I think I left it in your car?”

There was a pause. I filled it, trying to keep him on the phone. “It’s important to me—”

“Not so important you couldn’t keep track of it,” he said. I could hear him drumming his fingers. “I’ll check. Anything else?”

My head was throbbing. I was feeling sick and not only from the gin. I rubbed the spot on my wrist where the bracelet usually sat. “Helluva way to get people to vote for you,” I snapped. “I thought the Carrigan name stood for gentility.”

There was a pause and my stomach dropped. Goddammit, Jo, of all the times to lose your temper. I realized I was clutching the phone in one hand and squeezing the flesh under my elbow with the other.

“Don’t call here again,” Carrigan said, his voice frosty.

“Please,” I said, dropping my voice an octave. There was a real twinge in my heart, imagining never seeing that stupid gaudy gift again. There was a bigger twinge in my heart, imagining not seeing Carrigan again, missing my shot at his money. “It really means something to me.”

“Fine,” Carrigan said. “I’ll check.”