Free Dirty Work by Chelle Bliss, Brenda Rothert Page A

blowing behind me in the breeze and my arms thrown into the air.
    “Let’s go again,” I say as soon as Lexi reaches the bottom.
    She looks at her watch. “We have thirty-five minutes until you have to kiss the pig.”
    “I’m kissing a pig?” I kind of already did that a few days ago, but I don’t mention it.
    “It’s for charity. A children’s cancer hospital. People put money into cans to vote for who will have to kiss a pig and you won.”
    I shrug. “All right. It’s for a good cause. And I’m guessing the pig won’t think a kiss means I’m putting out like most men assume.”
    Lexi snort-laughs. “And he won’t suggest you kiss him a little lower, either.”
    “Right? I’m liking this pig more and more.”
    “We’ve got time for a couple rides before we have to go over there.”
    A giggling little girl glides down the slide on her father’s lap next to where we’re talking. I look at them wistfully. There weren’t any moments like that in my childhood. Dad’s been serving as a senator for twenty-four years now—most of my life. It’s been a demanding career that’s required lots of time away from home.
    What if I meet someone I want to marry and start a family with? Would I have to leave my children all the time for work, as my father did? I don’t even want to think about that choice. It was one of the reasons I agreed with my dad when he encouraged me to run now—because I’m able to give everything to my work.
    “Let’s do the slide again,” I say to Lex. “Then the Ferris wheel.”
    She groans in protest. “Reagan, that Ferris wheel makes me want to puke. The cars are shaking back and forth. And it’s rusty .”
    “Come on, live a little.”
    “Or die a lot.”
    I drag her back down the slide and then head for the Ferris wheel.
    “I’m not riding that instrument of death,” she says, shaking her head.
    “You know, I was thinking that a picture of me at the top of the Ferris wheel would be good for the social media accounts.”
    She narrows her eyes at me. “You whore. You know I want to be the best campaign manager ever, and I won’t say no to you.”
    “Attagirl.”
    “If I die, get rid of the box under the bed in my apartment.”
    I laugh at her mournfully serious expression. “Girl, if you die, I think I’ll be sharing your fate. Text your mom about the box before we get on.”
    “Oh, God.” Her cheeks darken. “I can’t even think about my mother seeing that box.”
    I furrow my brow, curious now. “What the hell is in there?”
    “Just…toys and stuff.”
    “Stuff?”
    She shrugs. “You remember the sports broadcaster I dated. He was a freak.”
    “Oh, that’s right.” I laugh so hard I have to cover my mouth. “He was into really weird stuff like numbing cream for his knob.”
    “ Mandelay .” Lex bursts into laughter. “And it didn’t help. He was still a minute man.”
    “And didn’t he buy you a strap-on?”
    She rolls her eyes, still laughing. “Oh, God. He did. It was so freakishly hysterical. I tried to put it on, but I couldn’t even.”
    “It’s so hard to find a good man,” I say.
    “And good to find a hard one.”
    “Word.”
    We step into our Ferris wheel car and close the safety bar over our laps. Lex is white-knuckling the metal bar and muttering about dying young. I’m picturing Jude without his shirt on. It’s tough to hear a hard man mentioned and not think of him.
    He didn’t respond to my text the other night, and we haven’t been in touch since. It’s for the best. Of all the men I could carry on a flirtation with, he’s the worst choice. No matter how attractive he is, I can’t afford to get distracted by him. I’m too close to the finish line to risk screwing it all up.
    From the top of the Ferris wheel, I look out over the rural fairgrounds. Past the barns where livestock is being exhibited, green cornfields stretch into the horizon. It’s a beautiful, quiet place.
    “How about that picture?” I say to