Free The Hurricane Sisters by Dorothea Benton Frank

you!” she said.
    “Do I look okay?” I tugged at my hem a little, covering my rear a little more but revealing more of the girls. “I mean, this dress is sort of short, isn’t it?”
    “Well, it ain’t PG-13.”
    “It’s too skimpy, isn’t it?”
    “Hell, no. You’re rocking that thing! Screw the old biddies! Wait till you know who sees you.”
    “Let’s hope. It’s just not very Jackie.”
    “Oh, so what. And you ain’t gonna believe who’s on the waitstaff tonight.”
    “Who?”
    “Tommy Milano.”
    “Well, isn’t that great.”
    “Please. He’s a sweetie.”
    Soon people began arriving and I stood by the door, checking off names from the list provided by the Friends of Himself . Another girl from “the Friends of” helped the supporters attach peel-and-stick name tags to their shoulders. In no time at all there was a crowd of well-heeled people my parents’ age milling about, drinking wine, looking at the watercolors, and talking louder and louder by the minute. I didn’t see Tommy Milano anywhere. But to my surprise, out of the night and into the gallery stepped Maisie with some people I didn’t know.
    “Maisie! What a wonderful surprise!” I hugged her and delivered a peck to her cheek.
    “Hello, sweetheart! Lorraine? This is my granddaughter, Ashley Waters. Someday, she’s going to be a famous artist! Ashley? Say hello to Mrs. Galloway.”
    “It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, thinking, Here’s my future mother-in-law. She seemed like a nice woman. I loved her earrings.
    “And you too, Ashley,” Mrs. Galloway said.
    “Lorraine’s mother, Lucille, and I went to school together,” Maisie said.
    “Oh!” I said, sounding like an airhead but what was I supposed to say? I mean, was Mrs. Galloway’s mother still with us? Why didn’t Maisie tell me she was coming with her? “Maisie? Can I get y’all a glass of wine?”
    “No, thank you, dear,” Mrs. Galloway said. “I’m the designated driver.”
    “I’ll help myself,” Maisie said. “It’ll give me a chance to flirt with the bartender.”
    Oh Lord, I thought. “Okay, well then, y’all have fun! Love you, Maisie!”
    “Love you too, baby!”
    They drifted into the crowd and my mind began clicking away. Maisie might be able to help me with Porter. But how?
    Just when my list of names was almost all accounted for, a black car pulled up to the curb. Press from the Charleston Post and Courier, the City Paper, the Charleston Mercury, and Charleston Magazine hurried to the sidewalk. Even Garden & Gun magazine was there. Camera flashes exploded as his driver opened the back door and Senator Porter Galloway got out and stepped to the curb. His aide got out on the street side and came around. The senator paused, smiled for the photographers, and answered a few questions. His aide began taking questions after that. My heart was racing. I couldn’t swallow. Porter turned to come inside and caught my eye.
    “Well, hello there,” he said. “What’s your name?”
    “Ashley. Ashley Waters.” God, he smelled so good.
    “Beautiful. You have a beautiful name.”
    He said this so politely I thought I might faint or something.
    “Thank you,” I said. “I guess you don’t need a name tag, huh?”
    As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. How stupid and awkward could I be? Huh? Why not just say duh ? Oh my God! I had just blown my only chance to make him notice me. Of all the things I could have said! My mouth got dry.
    But he was cool.
    “No, save a tree.”
    There was a funny little moment when he looked into my eyes and I looked right back into his, a moment of recognition that something potent was brewing. Or that something could.
    “Our grandmothers went to high school together,” I said. My tongue was clacking against the roof of my mouth like it had a suction cup on it.
    “Really? Well, how about that? Small world. Sadly, I have to go work the room,” he said, “but I’ll see you