Jury Town by Stephen Frey

do?”
    “Nothing, stop.”
    “I’ve heard it too many times. Come on.”
    “Will you marry me?” She laughed loudly when his eyes went wide, like he’d stuck his finger in a socket.
    “Um . . . Angie, I’m probably a permanent bach—”
    “I’m messing with you, Trent. Chill out.”
    He broke into that light-the-world-up smile. “I knew that.”
    “Sure you did. You should have seen your face just then. You’ve been worried I was gonna ask you that question ever since we were teenagers, and don’t even try telling me you haven’t.”
    “Maybe I was worried I’d say yes if you asked. You ever think of that? If I was ever gonna marry someone, it would be you.”
    “You just had your chance to say it, and I’m not asking again.”
    She dug a little trench in the sand with her toe. She didn’t know how to start this.
    He slipped a fingertip beneath her chin and lifted it slowly so she was forced to look up at him. “You’re stressed, Angie. A woman who grew a construction company from nothing into the biggest outfit in the city, and then beat a good old boy out of his state senate seat should never feel stress. What’s wrong?”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
    “When it comes to you, I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
    She hated how right he was. “Okay, here’s the deal. Last week some very senior people in the party paid me a visit.”
    Grave concern swept across Trent’s face. “Are you getting run out of your senate seat? People in Richmond don’t like a black woman taking a white man’s spot? Is that what’s going on?” He shook his head. “You know, we start to think we’re making progress in this country, and then something like this happens. Well, that—”
    “They weren’t from Richmond. They were national people.”
    “Even worse. I get the Richmond crew still fighting the Civil War, still thinking they’ll rise again. They’ll never let that die in a thousand years. But people from headquarters shouldn’t be hassling you like that. They should be damn glad you’re doing what you’re doing. They should be kissing your feet for all the sacrifices you’re making.”
    “Trent.”
    “Don’t let them get to you like that. Don’t back down. Hell, you’ve never backed down from anything in your life, Angie.”
    “Trent.”
    “I remember you shooting that crackhead who broke into your apartment that night, looking for money to buy drugs when your mother was gone working. You shot him right through the chest. You took care of business that night, you didn’t back down then. Don’t let these people—”
    “Trent!” Sometimes he got on these rolls that were almost impossible to stop. He had since he was a kid.
    “What?”
    “They didn’t come to hassle me. They came to ask me to run for the big one, for the United States Senate. They want me to take on Chuck Lehman.”
    For a few moments, Trent gazed down at her as if he couldn’t grasp what she’d said, as if she’d been speaking a foreign language. Finally he grabbed her, picked her up off the wet sand, and twirled her round and round.
    “Put me down!” she screamed. God, he was strong. She already knew that, of course. But she’d never felt it before, not like this. No wonder they called his position on the court power forward. “Put me down!”
    “United States Senator Angela Gaynor!” Trent shouted into the mist as he eased her feet back to the sand. “Can you believe it? You’re going to Washington.”
    “Whoa, whoa,” she cautioned, dizzy from spinning. She’d felt like a doll in his huge arms. “Senator Lehman is finishing his third term. He’s the senate majority leader. He’s an institution in Washington.” She hated getting dizzy. Still, she wanted him to pick her up and do it again. It was so good to feel petite. “The odds of me beating the man are very small.”
    “When have you ever paid attention to the odds, Angie? You’ve been beating