CHAPTER 19
First the sauce bubbled, then it burned. We didn’t care. We ate cereal afterward. On the rug, in my living room. She wore one of my shirts and drank coffee. I had tea. It seemed good. Like it fit together. At least for now.
“You think this will work between us?” she said.
“Work as what?”
“Good question.”
“How about we see where things go and enjoy it for whatever it’s worth?”
She wrapped both hands around her mug and blew on coffee that wasn’t hot to begin with. Then she spoke again. Slowly, softly.
“You know about me?” she said.
“What do I need to know?”
“Well, I was engaged a few months back. Kind of a quick thing. Actually, kind of a stupid thing.”
“Didn’t know that.”
She peered out at me from under her newly revealed past. “Now you do.”
“So I do. Didn’t work out, I take it?”
She held out her left hand, five digits devoid of any significant jewelry. “Not exactly.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not especially.”
“You okay now?”
“I hope so.”
“Look at me.”
She looked up.
“You look okay to me,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“I was going to call, you know.”
“I believe you.” She smiled, leaned over, and kissed me. “I just beat you to the punch.”
“Yeah, well, you might regret that.”
“How so?”
“The stuff we talked about earlier.”
“The mayor?” Rachel said. “He doesn’t scare me. Does he scare you?”
“He gets my attention.”
“Good. He’s someone who should get your attention. Especially if he’s asking around about you. I told you, he’s a ruthless man who has got to go.”
“I thought judges weren’t supposed to be political beasts.”
“We’re not, generally speaking. But there are exceptions. Thing is, in this town we’ve never had any good alternatives to the mayor. He keeps the streets clean, taxes low—or at least someone else’s fault—and rules with an iron fist. So everyone shuts up.”
“And now?”
“Now we have someone. A real alternative.”
“Let me guess. Mitchell Kincaid.”
Mitchell Kincaid was fifty-three years old, black, and good-looking. He graduated from Northwestern Law School, which, in academic circles, made him very smart. He was also about to launch a run for mayor, which, in Chicago circles, made him incredibly stupid.
“Mitchell is what this city needs,” Rachel said.
“And you really think he can take down Wilson?”
“I’ve gotten to know Mitchell pretty well. Been on some boards. Fund-raisers. He’s transcendent.”
Rachel glowed when she said it, in a way I found both exciting and disturbing. Exciting because she was in my apartment, wearing nothing except a pin-striped button-down oxford. Disturbing because she was glowing for another man, one who wasn’t even in the room.
“Transcendent, you say?”
“I’m serious, Michael. He’s a good man. And an honest man. He can unite and he can lead. You’d like him.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. And he’d like you. In fact, I’d like the two of you to meet.”
“Not right now, I hope.”
Rachel stretched her body against mine. “No, Mr. Kelly. Right now, I’d like you to show me the rest of your place.”
“You mean the bedroom?”
She got up with a smile. Led the way like she’d been there before. I followed. Willing to go pretty much wherever.