Free Ballots and Blood by Ralph Reed Page B

multicolored diamonds.
    â€œThat’s me,” said Jay, shaking her hand. “Who are you?”
    â€œI’m Satcha’s friend.” Jay took note of her brown skin, angular face, espresso eyes, and curly hair pulled back to reveal a long neck. “Let me buy you a drink,” she said.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWhat can I get you?”
    A waitress appeared in a low-cut cocktail dress. Jay thought a moment and ordered a vodka on the rocks. He sat down and leaned back on the couch. “So tell me your name.”
    â€œSamah,” she said extending her hand. “But all my friends call me Layla.”
    Jay shook her hand. He noticed how soft it was. Her skin was almost the color of caramel mixed with cream, with perfect white teeth.
    â€œMy father is Italian, my mother is Somali,” said Layla. “It’s quite the conversation-starter.”
    â€œWow! Where in Italy? I just got back a few months ago from running a campaign in Italy, so I got to know the country pretty well.”
    â€œCortona.”
    The waitress appeared, handing Jay his drink. “Here’s to Cortona . . . and Italy and Somalia.” They clinked their glasses and drank, their eyes never losing contact. “What do you do, Layla?”
    â€œI’m in public relations,” she said, leaning forward, her hand brushing Jay’s knee. He felt a jolt of sexual tension shoot through him. He was supposed to be hanging with Satcha, but he found himself entranced by Layla. “Is that vague enough for you?”
    Jay laughed. “Works for me. People ask me what I do, and I just say I’m a consultant. Or at least I did. Now I have to say I work for the president.” He took a sip of vodka, which burned as it went down. “So my cover’s blown.”
    â€œWell, you don’t need to worry about that tonight,” said Layla, taking a sip of white wine. “You’re safe with me. So relax . . . enjoy yourself.” She smiled suggestively.
    â€œI think I’ll do that.”
    Layla glanced in the direction of the dance floor. “Do you like to dance?”
    â€œI’m not much of a dancer, but I can hold my own.”
    â€œThen let’s dance.” She grabbed him by the hand, their fingers interlocked, and led him out on to the dance floor, which was jammed. As they moved to the music, their bodies pressed against each other.
    Thump-thump-thump.
    He felt her warm breath on his neck. Then, suddenly, she wrapped her arms around his waist, their bodies swaying as one. He hoped no one had a cell phone camera.
    â€œAre you having a good time?” shouted Layla over the music, her breath tickling his ear.
    â€œYes,” said Jay over the beat.
    Thump-thump-thump.
    â€œYou’re so handsome. I don’t know if it’s your hair or if it’s your eyes, or your nose, but there’s something about you. You’ve got a perfect nose and beautiful eyes. Don’t ever let anyone tell you different.”
    Welcome to LA, Jay thought. Apparently for Layla power was an aphrodisiac. Jay was willing to play along and see where it went. The song ended, and they walked back toward the table, holding hands. That was when Jay saw Satcha. She was sitting on the couch working her way through a blue-colored drink in a martini glass, checking her BlackBerry. As usual, she looked like a million bucks. She wore white skinny jeans, a form-fitting black silk top, and six-inch heels with white bows.
    â€œSatcha! Layla was keeping me company until you got here,” said Jay mischievously.
    â€œSorry I’m late, honey,” said Satcha, rising to hug him. She shot Layla a mock dirty look. “Did you steal my date?”
    Layla giggled. “I didn’t steal him. I only borrowed him.” Jay felt her tickle him from behind with her fingers.
    â€œSo tell me about the fund-raiser,” asked Satcha. “You had a big day?”
    â€œWe banked almost four