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“So nothing on the books, you mean?”
“There’s a code of ethics for government employees. So yes, there’s plenty on the books.”
“Such as?”
“Such as putting loyalty to country first. Upholding the Constitution, never discriminating. ‘Government employees have no private word which can be binding on public duty,’” I quote, knowing that clause by heart. “And I can’t use information I’ve learned”—I use air quotes—‘in the performance of governmental duties as a means for making private profit.’”
“That’s it?”
“Not all. But those are the biggies.”
“Nothing about drinking while on the job or meeting with sponsors while off it?”
I shake my head. “Nothing in writing.”
“So you wouldn’t be fired for this.”
“No. Not unless you claimed I acted improperly.”
“And if we were to do it again?”
My heart races. “There’s nothing technically wrong with it, but there’s not much right about it either. So no, I probably wouldn’t lose my job, but it wouldn’t look great. I’d be reassigned for sure. And my judgment would be called into question.” Again. “I might lose out on a promotion.”
“Hmmm.”
I can tell he wants to say something. “What?” I decide to be as forthright as him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“So you could lose your promotion. And if you were reassigned, I assume we’d be given a new RPM, which would mean more delays?”
I nod. “Most definitely.”
“Without getting into details, since you asked me not to discuss Angel, and I won’t, if you were reassigned, I would be risking the future of our business. And despite all of those bad decisions I talked about, I’ve made one good one, and that was befriending and going into business with Enzo. He let me into his life, his family, and is trusting me with his invention. I would never risk the one good thing I’ve ever done.”
I feel like a balloon that’s just been relieved of all its air.
“Well, that makes it easy. We just won’t text, or meet, or talk outside of work again.”
Hayden puts his beer down on the table and leans forward.
From the corner of my eye, I can see the waitress coming toward us with our food.
“Ada?”
I shift my attention back to him.
“Neither of us is thinking right now. We both have too much to lose.”
Why do I feel like there’s a “but” here?
“But here we are. And if you tell me you don’t want to speak again outside of our professional relationship, that’s your call. But I won’t make promises I have no intention to keep. Because if I’m being honest, I do intend to text you again after this. Probably before the end of the night.”
I am so in over my head with this man.
“Ball is in your court.”
The waitress lowers her food tray, giving me time to think. To formulate any coherent thoughts.
He doesn’t know about my career hiccup. Nor do I know why another delay would wreak so much havoc for him. But it doesn’t matter, really. As he said, the ball is in my court.
