Misconduct

I set down my empty glass and picked up another of the same drink. It was nonalcoholic but still a delicious concoction of orange juice, pineapple juice, and Sprite, I believed.

With Kristen following, I headed over to Jack as he chatted with a small group of men, including Tyler, Mason Blackwell, and a few others I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t imagine why Tyler had invited Blackwell – I knew he didn’t like him – but I was sure it had everything to do with business and nothing to do with pleasure.

“The other party has already endorsed Evelyn Tragger,” one of the gentlemen said casually, speaking to Blackwell. “She’s plainspoken and hard-nosed. She has a good reputation north of Baton Rouge, and she’s very popular with certain circles here.”

“And she is not happy with you, Mason,” another guest joked before taking a sip out of his rocks glass.

I stopped behind Blackwell, no one noticing my presence.

“Of course she’s not,” Blackwell asserted. “Most unmarried women are disgruntled.”

The group broke out in laughter, some nodding in agreement, and their ignorant, pasty, self-satisfied smiles suddenly irritated me.

Straightening my back and crossing my arms over my chest, I cocked my head. “And because you’re male that makes you worthy of office?” I retorted.

Everyone turned to face me, suddenly noticing I was there, except Jack. He simply let his head fall back as he sighed, probably bracing himself for my antics, which he knew all too well.

Blackwell looked at me with a half smile and definite amusement in his eyes. The three gentlemen I didn’t recognize regarded me with interest, appearing surprised but not the least bit offended. I had no idea what Tyler was thinking, but I could feel his gaze on me.

“Uh, gentlemen.” I heard the laughter Tyler kept contained. “This is Ms. Easton Bradbury. She’s a—”

“Voter,” I finished for him, pinning Blackwell with a stern stare. “And I’d like to know, Mr. Blackwell, why it is that with one hundred senators in this country, only about twenty are female?”

I didn’t so much care either way about the gender of our leaders, but I was interested in hearing his answer.

“None of them are from Louisiana or from the South, for that matter,” I added. “In fact, Louisiana has elected only one female senator throughout history.”

That was a lie. There’d been three, actually, but I wanted to see if anyone would correct me.

He stood there, one hand casually sliding into his pocket and the other holding a glass of something brown.

“The job goes to whoever is qualified,” he answered, and I almost laughed.

“Twenty-eight percent child poverty rate,” I pointed out, “and one of the largest prison inmate increases in the country.”

Politics and history went hand in hand. I couldn’t love one without being informed about the other.

I held his stare. “We’re also the unhealthiest state in the union, based on obesity, suicide, alcohol consumption, and teen pregnancy.”

His stare faltered for a split second, and I deduced either he was unaware, aware but didn’t care, or he had no response.

The problem with people like Blackwell was that they treated public service as an extension of their careers. It was a means to gain influence and change laws that kept them from making money in whatever manner they chose. Their public service wasn’t about the public at all.

And I wasn’t so sure Tyler had a nobler agenda, either.

I took a deep breath, lifting my chin. “I just told you that much of your future constituency is underfed and undereducated,” I clarified. “Now, I would never base my vote on someone’s race or gender, but you can be sure my vote isn’t guaranteed simply because you have a dick.”

Tyler choked on his drink, coughing, and the other gentlemen broke out in snorts and laughs that were quickly concealed with a hand over the mouth.

Kristen cleared her throat, and I could tell she wanted to laugh, while a smile tugged at Blackwell’s lips.

Leaning in, he whispered in my ear, “But you haven’t seen it.”

His smooth voice was filled with sexual innuendo, and I stilled, feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up. This guy was disgusting.

“Tyler,” a woman said behind me. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Blackwell pulled back, still smirking, and I turned my head, seeing a beautiful blonde in a red wrap dress walk up from behind.

And I tensed, remembering her. She was the blonde from the Mardi Gras ball last year.

She came to stand at Tyler’s side, and I instantly felt heat rush to my cheeks.

“I’m Tessa McAuliffe.” She smiled, holding out her hand. “And you are?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Tyler cut me off.

“Tessa,” he interrupted, stepping up to me. “I need to speak with Ms. Bradbury.” He smiled politely, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Please excuse us for a moment,” he told everyone.

I narrowed my eyes, ready to object, but he grabbed my elbow and led me away from the group so fast I nearly stumbled along the brick path.

“What are you doing?” I whispered as he moved his hand to my back, continuing to lead me off the patio and into the house.

But he didn’t answer.

Most of the guests were outside, but there were a few scattered about, browsing around the house, as well as servers gathering food and supplies to refresh the tables.

“Tyler, someone will see us,” I whisper-yelled this time, trying to dig in my heels and stop him.