Whitewash by Alex Kava Read Free Book Online

slight nod as if to say, “So this is the best you could do.”
    God, he hated that look of disappointment, a look that said, “So this is how you repay me.” Sometimes he’d rather the man chew him out instead. Jason’s uncle Louie used to say, “It ain’t healthy for a man not to say what’s on his mind. You keep it all bottled up, eventually you blow up.” Uncle Louie wasn’t much of a scholar, but he knew a thing or two about common sense, which was certainly one thing Jason discovered to be lacking in D.C. big-time.
    But Jason also knew the difference between people who inherited good manners and discipline and those who had to learn it from scratch, the difference between Senator John Quincy Allen and Uncle Louie. It was the difference between Jason walking away from that stupid-ass manager instead of slamming the bastard’s smug face into the wall.
    He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, but knew the tight ball of tension was there for the day. He flipped open his cell phone as he reached the bank of elevators and punched the Up arrow. While he waited he scrolled down his phone’s call list. The elevator doors opened to two chattering maids and Jason held the door open, standing back. When they noticed him their conversation stopped immediately in midsentence—pretty obvious even if he didn’t understand the language. The older one bowed her head as she passed by while the younger woman smiled at him, a wonderfully coy smile as though she had no clue she had a nice ass. But then she glanced back over her shoulder as if to make sure he noticed the tight ass. It only reminded him that this discipline thing pretty much sucked and it certainly couldn’t be healthy for a twenty-six-year-old male.
    It wasn’t like there was some chief of staff how-to-behave manual or that anyone had ever come right out and told him what was and wasn’t acceptable behavior for a senator’s chief of staff. No, that much he’d figured out for himself. It didn’t take long for Jason to realize that politics were constantly one major innuendo after another whether you were making deals or breaking balls. They even gave the insinuations fancy names and phrases like “the politics of personal destruction.” But where Jason came from it didn’t matter what you called it or how polite you did it, breaking balls was still breaking balls.
    His cell phone started ringing as soon as he stepped into the elevator.
    “Jason Brill,” he said.
    “Brill, it’s Natalie Richards.”
    He couldn’t help smiling, speaking of ball breakers. “Hello, Natalie Richards.”
    “What’s this about changing the venue for the presummit reception?”
    “Well, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. And how are you?”
    “Cut the crap, Brill. I don’t have time for that cute-ass sense of humor of yours. And I don’t appreciate it when people start playing musical chairs and not bothering to let our office know.”
    “Come on, Ms. Richards. Your team’s in charge of the entire energy summit. This is just a reception, a personal reception that Senator Allen is throwing for a few of his friends and acquaintances who happen to be coming to the summit.” Though he was pretty sure Richards knew it wasn’t just a reception but a celebration. If all went well, Senator Allen’s hard work would be rewarded with EchoEnergy being the first American oil-producing company supplying all the vehicles of U.S. troops. It was worthy of a celebration even if it was a bit premature.
    “Friends and acquaintances,” Richards said, “who just happen to be all the heavy hitters.”
    “Not to worry. Your boss is going to be invited.” Despite trying to trip up this deal every step of the way. He wisely kept the last part to himself.
    “That’s not the goddamn point, Brill, and you know it.”
    “All I know is you’re making much ado about nothing.”
    “You can’t continue to—”
    Jason began tapping the cell phone against the elevator wall, then