had made its way through WFO with the swiftness only a water cooler broadcast network could inspire.
“Nope. Couldn’t find anybody else that stupid.”
“Hear you and Simpson make a nice team,” the man commented, barely suppressing a grin.
“We have our moments.”
“Heard of J-Lo?”
“Who hasn’t?” Alex replied.
“Well, Simpson is J-Glo. Didn’t you know you were partnering with a celeb?”
“J-Glo? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Alex, she’s got a halo over her. The light is shining from heaven above on that little southern pistol. They say it’s blinding from at least five hundred yards. I’m surprised you can still see.”
The agent walked off, laughing.
As luck would have it, Alex ran into his partner on the way out of the building.
“Going home?” he asked.
“No, I’m going to see if I can find any friends. I can’t seem to dig up any here. ”
She started to walk off, but Alex put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, what I said was meant as constructive criticism, nothing else. I would’ve paid good money for tips like that when I was just starting out and didn’t know squat.”
For an instant Simpson actually looked like she wanted to take a swing at him, but with what seemed immense self-control she regained her composure.
“I appreciate your interest but it’s different for a woman. The Service is still very much a man’s world.”
“I’m not denying that, Jackie. But the fact is you’re not doing your career any favors by letting yourself be treated differently from everybody else.”
Simpson’s face flushed. “I can’t help it if people are treating me with kid gloves.”
Alex shook his head. “Wrong answer. You can help it. In fact, you better make damn sure it stops.” He paused and then asked, “Who is your guardian angel?” Simpson didn’t appear to want to answer. “Look, just spill it. It’s not like I can’t find out.”
She snapped, “Fine! My father is Senator Roger Simpson.”
Alex nodded, impressed. “Chairman of the Intelligence Oversight Committee. That’s a pretty big angel.”
In a flash Simpson was right in Alex’s face, almost stepping on his size 13 loafers as she attacked. “My father would never use his influence to help me. And for your information, being his only child didn’t make my life easier. I had to fight for every damn thing I got. I’ve got the bruises and thick skin to show for it.”
Alex backed up a step and put out a hand to keep her at bay. “This town isn’t built on fact, it’s based on perception. And the perception is that you get out of the crap work more than you should. And that’s not all. ”
“Oh, really?”
He pointed at her jacket. “You usually wear a blazing red handkerchief in your breast pocket.”
“So what?”
“So, to a Secret Service agent, that’s a no-no. It not only draws attention to you in a profession that prides itself on keeping a low profile except on protection detail. It also makes a damn fine target for somebody looking to take a shot at you. So not only does it label you as a maverick, it labels you as a stupid maverick.”
Simpson’s jaw clenched as she stared down at this crimson mark, as though it were a scarlet letter.
Alex continued. “And your gun. It’s a custom piece. Another sign that you think you’re different—translate, better—than everybody else. That doesn’t sit well with agents here, men or women.”
“My daddy gave me this gun when I became a police officer.” Alex noted that the angrier Simpson became, the more pronounced her Alabama drawl.
“So put it in a shadow box on your wall and carry the Service’s standard issue!”
“And what, then all my problems just go away?” This shot out of the woman’s mouth with such an attitude that now Alex felt like decking her.
“No, then you just have all the problems everybody else has. Why don’t you just file that one away under ‘Life’s a Bitch’?” And so are you.
Alex turned and walked off. He’d had enough of the rookie for one day. The LEAP Bar was seriously calling his name.
Kate Adams had just come on duty after a full day at Justice when Alex walked in. It was relatively early yet, so the place was mostly empty. Alex marched up to the bar, a man on a mission. She’d seen him coming and had the martini with three fat olives waiting for him by the time Alex’s rear hit the stool.
“My imagination, or are you a little upset about something?” she said in a teasing manner that immediately eased the tension from him.
The mingled scents of coconut and honeysuckle drifted across the width of the mahogany bar and settled in his nostrils. He wondered if she’d washed her hair before coming to work, or if it was her perfume, or both. Regardless, it was doing a number on him.
“Just work. It’ll pass.” He took a sip of his drink, popped one of the olives into his mouth and chased it down with a handful of peanuts he grabbed from a bowl next to him. “How goes it with you? Your superspy friend Tommy come calling?”
She raised her eyebrows at this comment. “Hemingway? I wouldn’t exactly call him a friend.” He gave her such a skeptical look that she put down the glass she was drying off and leaned across the bar.
“My, you’re so agreeable, Agent Ford. I can’t tell you how refreshing tha
t is for me after being around lawyers all day. Lawyers don’t agree on anything.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”
“Why don’t you come by around six?”
She wrote her phone number and address down and slid it across to him. He handed her one of his cards with his home address and phone number penciled in on the back.