Oscar was silently attentive.

“Leon Sosik was silly to let Alcott talk him into a hunger strike. Alcott has a thousand ideas, but a better chief of staff would kill his silly ones. And, Oscar, if you take that little tart Moira back to Boston when I’m not around, you’ll be very silly, too.”

Oscar knew the city of Boston very well indeed, having meticulously canvassed every voting district for the city council races. Boston was sane, civilized, and commonsensical, compared to other American cit-ies. Boston had so much to recommend it. A fully functional financial district. Green, quiet, showpiece parks. Real and serious museums, stocked and maintained by people with a sense of cultural continuity. Several centuries’ worth of attractive public statuary. Living, commer-cial theater. Restaurants with dress codes. Real neighborhoods with real neighborhood bars.

Of course Boston had its less happy areas: the Combat Zone, the half-drowned waterfront… but being home, however briefly, gave Oscar a vital sense of grace. He had never missed the maelstrom of Los Angeles, and as for sorry old Washington, it combined the dullness of Brussels with the mania of Mexico City. East Texas, of course, was utterly absurd. The thought of ever going back there gave him a genu-ine pang.

“I’m going to miss that campaign bus,” Oscar said. “It’s pared me back, to lose that asset. It’s like losing a whole group of go stones. ”

“Can’t you buy your own bus?” Moira said, adjusting her photo-genic coat collar with newly lacquered nails.

“Sure, I could afford a campaign bus, if they built them out of concrete blocks with unskilled labor,” Oscar said. “But so far, that never happens. And now I’ve lost good old Jimmy, too.”

“Some big loss that is. Jimmy’s a loser. A no-neck geek from the Southside… the world’s got a billion Jimmies.”

“Yes, that’s why Jimmy was important to me.”

Moira jammed her bare hands in her jacket and sniffed at the freezing air. “I’ve spent too much time with you, Oscar. I had to live inside your pockets for months. I can’t understand why I still let you make me feel guilty.”

Oscar was not going to let her provoke him. They had dropped off the bus at FedDem headquarters, and they were taking a peaceful winter stroll to his town house in the Back Bay, and he was enjoying himself “I’m not telling you to feel guilty. Am I judgmental? I was very supportive, I always looked after you. Didn’t I? I never said a word about you and Bambakias.”

“Yes you did! You kept lifting your big black eyebrows at me.” Oscar lifted his eyebrows, caught himself doing it, put the eye-brows back in place. He hated confrontations. They always brought out the worst in him. “Look, this isn’t my fault. He hired you, not me. I was just trying to let you know — tactfully — that you were pull-ing a stunt that was bound to arc out as destructive. You had to realize that.”

“Yeah, I knew it.”

“Well, you had to know it! A campaign spokeswoman, having sex with a married Senator. How on earth could that work out?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly sex…” Moira winced. “And he wasn’t a Senator then, either! When I hooked up with Alcott, he was a long-shot candidate with five percent approval. His staff people were a bunch of weird losers, and his manager was just a young start-up guy who’d never run a federal campaign. It was a hopeless cause. But I signed on with him anyway. I just really liked him, that’s all. He charmed me into it. I just thought he was this naive, brilliant, charm-ing guy. He has a good heart. He really does. He’s much too good a person to be a goddamn Senator.”

“So he was supposed to lose the race, is that it?”

“Yeah. He was supposed to lose, and then that bitch would have dumped him. And I guess I figured that, somehow, I would be there waiting.” Moira shuddered. “Look, I love him, all right? I fell in love with him. I worked really hard for him. I gave him my all. I just never realized that it would play out like this.”

“I’m very sorry,” Oscar said. “It really is all my fault, after all. I never quite made it clear to you that I actually intended to put the guy into federal office.”

Moira fell silent as they forded through the pedestrian crowd on Commercial Avenue. The trees were stark and leafless, but the Christ-mas shoppers were hard at it, all hats and jackets and snow boots in a mess of glittering lights.

Finally she spoke again. “This is a side of you that people don’t get to see much, isn’t it. Under that suit and the hairstyle, you’re a mean, sarcastic bastard.”

“Moira, I have always been entirely straight with you. Right up and down. I couldn’t have been any straighter. You’re the one who’s leaving. You’re not leaving him. You never had him. You’re never going to get him. He doesn’t belong to you. It’s me that you’re leav-ing. You’re leaving my krewe. You’re defecting.”

“What are you, a country? Get over yourself! I’m not ‘defecting.’” Moira stared at him, eyes blazing. “Let me go! Let me be a normal human being! This is like a sickness with you, this controlling thing. You need help.”

“Stop trying to provoke me. You’re being childish.”

They turned the corner onto Marlborough Street. This was his home street, it was where he lived. Time to try a fresh angle. “Look, Moira, I’m truly sorry about your feelings for the Senator. Campaigns are very intense, they make people do crazy things sometimes. But the campaign’s long behind us now, and you need to reassess your position. You and I, we’ve been good friends, we ran a great campaign together, and we shouldn’t become enemies. Be reason-able.”

“I’m not reasonable. I’m in love.”

“Think about it. I know that you’re out of my krewe, I accept that, but I can still make things easy for you. I offered to let you stay at my own house, rent-free. Wasn’t that the act of a friend? If you’re worried about a job, we can work out something with the local Fed-Dems. You can take a party post during the off-season. When the next campaign comes around, hey, you were the spokesperson for Barnbakias! You’ll have a big rep next time, you’ll have some clout. All you have to do is keep your skirt on.”

“I really hate you for that.”

“Look, you don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. You’re disgusting. You’ve gone too far this time. I really hate you.”

“I’m telling you this for your own good! Look, she knows. You want to make enemies, well, you’ve made a big one. The wronged woman is on to you.”

“So what? I know that she knows.”

“She’s a Senator’s wife now, and she’s on to you. If you cross her again, she’ll crush you like a bug!”

Moira barked with laughter. “What’s she supposed to do? Shoot me?’

Oscar sighed. “She’ll out you on the college lesbian thing.”

Moira gaped in wounded astonishment. “What is this, the twen-tieth century? Nobody gives a damn about that!”

“She’ll leak it. She’ll leak it with major-league spin. Nobody leaks like Lorena. She’ll kiss up to the Capitol press at some overclass cotillion, and they’ll out you like a vampire in daylight.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m a press liaison, and if she outs me, I’ll out you. I’ll out you and your genius creep girlfriend!” She jabbed at him with a red-nailed finger. “Ha! You can’t threaten me, you manipula-tive scumbag. I don’t even care what happens to me! But I can kick over your applecart, that’s for sure. You’re not even human! You don’t even have a birthday! I’ll leak you and that creep ugly scientist, and when I’m done, she’ll day the rue she… oh hell… she’ll rue the day she ever met you.”

“This is pathetic,” Oscar said. “You’ve really lost it!”

“I’m strong.” Moira lifted her chin. “My love has made me strong.”

“What the hell are you carrying on about, anyway? You haven’t even been near the guy in six weeks.”