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Emmy opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She finally found a few words. “I was thinking that we could maybe discuss how you’ve managed to ignore the fact that The Fates chose you as a nominee?”
“Oh. That.” I shrugged, moved to check the mini fridge for more alcohol. I could feel my magic flaring inside me and I needed to put a big kibosh on that. “I didn’t ignore it. I just processed it and moved on.”
“No, Trix. It doesn’t work like that. We need to focus now more than ever. I mean, we need to discuss your campaign strategy. Isn’t there a debate?” Emmy wondered aloud. “I will do anything to support you. Maybe we should hire someone to write your speeches? I think we should definitely shell out for a makeup and hair stylist. No offense, but it’s going to be really important—”
“Aha.” I held up a small bottle of rosé. Then I frowned. “I think this is complimentary, but if they charge me, I’m going to be seriously pissed.”
“Trixie.”
I stopped cold. I turned to face Emmy. I tried to figure out if she was aghast or exasperated or some other combination. She stared at me like I should really be able to figure this out.
“So you don’t think the wine is complimentary?” I ventured uneasily. “Fine. Let’s just hit the open bar then.”
“You are hopeless. Do you realize how rare this opportunity is?” Emmy threw her hands up in the air. “You could be a member of The Circle. You could change the magical community in a big way. The wildcard, Trixie—the wildcard seat. This could be huge!”
“Or it could be nothing.” I shrugged again. “Listen, Em, it’s not that I’m not taking this seriously. Everyone knows Levian is going to win. He looks the part, acts the part, is the part. The elfin candidate has won the wildcard seat for the last zillion years.”
“That doesn’t mean it has to happen again. It’s all up to popular vote now that The Fates have selected the nominees.”
“Right, and who’s the popular one? Levian.” I shook my head. “People look at me and see a hot mess of a witch who doesn’t even use magic. Why would I waste time running a campaign? I’ve got a taxi to drive.”
“You never know,” Emmy said, more softly. “You deserve it as much as anyone. Literally. The Fates chose you for a reason.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to dig deep to find that reason.”
I popped open the top of the sparkling wine thinking I wouldn’t even mind all that much if I got charged for it. Emmy was making me sweat the way she was looking at me like I really mattered. Like I could make a difference.
“Not to mention, even if by some miracle I got elected, that doesn’t mean I’d make a difference. It’s just one chair in a circle of crusty old paranormals. It’s not like my vote will make that much of a difference.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to be part of The Circle,” I said with finality. “That’s the long and short of it. I realize I’m a candidate; I comprehend that. What you’re not understanding is that I have absolutely no desire to be one. So as far as I’m concerned, this is where my run ends. I’m not doing any debates. No interviews. I’m going to vote for Lucas. End of story.”
“But—”
“End of story,” I said. “Do you want to hit the gala, or should we head to bed?”
Emmy swallowed, gave a nod. “I don’t agree with your choice, but I respect it.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Gala?” Emmy suggested. “I’m starving.”
I took a swig of rosé. “Samesies. This adrenaline has me ready to eat a horse.”
Emmy and I changed into the dresses we’d brought for the gala. Everyone invited to the event was invited to the hotel ballroom where there’d be food, dancing, music—a big party to celebrate the candidate selection and kick off the campaigning stage. It would be a shame to miss the catering.
By the time we finished getting dressed, our bottle of rosé was close to empty, and I was looking forward to a charcuterie board to mop up some of the tequila-sparkling-wine potion that was swirling in my stomach.
Emmy looked over at me. “You look beautiful.”
“Same. Very hot,” I said, eyeing Emmy’s sparkling white dress. “Maybe you’ll meet the wizard of your dreams here, and he’ll cart you off into the sunset.”
Emmy laughed, reached for my hand. She gave it a squeeze.
“Come on, hon,” she said, tugging me out the door before I could change my mind and flop on the bed in the red dress she’d strapped me into.
As we slipped out the door, she turned to me.
