Chapter 7

Sunday, September 6, 2009: late evening

We finished the drive to Lounge 201, which was located near Union Station. There were a number of neighborhood lounges, bars and grills and the like in the area, mostly catering to the staffers on the Hill. Not exactly my type of people, which is why I’ve never been there.

As we got close, my phone rang. I groaned, figuring it was Abby again. She often calls me Sunday night to try to get focused for the upcoming week.

Paul gave me a curious look as I took out my phone. When I blushed, he grinned but politely turned away to give me the illusion of privacy.

“Uh, hi, Stephen.”

I listened to him for a moment before saying, “Yeah, that sounds good, but hey, now really isn’t a good time to talk. I&rs...

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