Do Not Disturb

Jake Cunningham wanted to hit something. He usually worked out his aggression with his overpriced personal trainer, sweating and pounding until he heard nothing but his heart roaring in his ears, felt nothing but the ache of his body as he pushed it beyond its limits.
What was it his therapist railed on about when he talked about how nice it was to hit and punch invisible targets that he labeled with the name of various pundits and what not? It was healthier to just breathe? Breathe, he reminded himself. Just breathe.
He narrowed his aqua eyes, setting his jaw as his advisor Roman Johnson gave him a self-satisfied smug look he wore far too much lately. It'd first reared its head when Jake fell for Trixie, a dancer that he'd dated back in DC. He'd cared about her, probably more than he should have, and tried to make it work, but she'd left him high and dry, leaving only the curve of Roman's lip and a silent, "I told you so".
And then there was his counsel, telling Jake to stay out of the dicey unemployment debate, but he'd taken his Republican colleagues to task, lambasting the assumption that people collecting funds were as one so delicately put it, "mooching off the system". He'd called them a bunch of out of touch billionaires, sitting up in their ivory tower as the rest of the country starved to death. He'd been essentially tarred and feathered in the polls, the voters more privy to propaganda than their own interests.
And as they pulled up to Winterhorn Inn and Suites, Roman was all teeth and gums as he showed Jake the new polling numbers. “Look at this, Jake. I told you this tour was a good idea.”
Jake gave him a wary nod. "So I'm up 10 points. I’m still trailing Marsh by 15." Marshal Wilkinson was a ‘good ole boy’ all about guns and outlawing homosexuality and other ridiculous overzealous Republican talking points.
Roman let out a sigh. "It's because the voters see you as some free love hippie that was born in California-"
"I was raised in Raleigh," Jake piped, fixing his tie.
"Whatever," Roman said, highlighting paragraphs on the page. The car pulled up to the lobby entrance of the inn. Jake couldn't help but find an irony in the fact that during his "downhome tour" he was staying in the most expensive hotel in the Mauryville area.
He reached for the door handle but Roman lurched forward, his dark eyes wide. "What is your stance if they ask about Trixie?"
"She was a beautiful woman that bled me dry and took my kid?"
Roman rolled his eyes. "Jake, how many times do I have to tell you? Getting attached to the kid was adorable, but he has a mom. And a father. Somewhere."
"Oh you mean that crackhead that used to beat her to a bloody pulp?"
"Jake-"
"Real father figure, that one. I was the best thing that happened to her and-"
"She left you," Roman said firmly. His face softened. "And I feel for you. I know you cared about her."
Cared didn't quite sum it up. She'd breezed out of his life almost three months ago now. While his therapist claimed the media's insistence on a Cinderella story was why he tried to rekindle their romance, out of some need to save her and little Jesse, but Jake knew that it was more. As tough as nails as she pretended to be, had to be, to raise a special needs child all on her own at 24, he knew that underneath the armor, she was the kindest person he'd ever known.
Roman was yapping about image, but Jake just pushed from the backseat of the Escalade, the flashes from the cameras not even fazing him as he pushed through the revolving door.
Waiting near the check in desk, a dark skinned woman with a pinched face gave him a smile almost as plastic as the ones he saw in Washington. Her nametag read "Carmen".
She extended her hand. "Mr. Cunningham! I’m Carmen Jackson. We here at Winterhorn Inn and Suites are so thrilled you'll be staying with us." She leaned in. "I voted for you, by the way."
Jake ran a hand through his dark hair before chuckling. "I appreciate that."
"Now," she said crisply, ushering him forward like a tour guide. They breezed into a bar area, the room radiating a retro, 60s vibe with its clunky bar and statement chairs.
"Feel free to get a drink." she winked. "On the house."
He forced a smile, moving to the bar. He signaled the bartender who gave him a nod and held up a finger for one second. Jake took the chance to take in the rest of the scene. The bar was pretty sparse, save a couple of J.Crew types hanging over near the dartboards. He could smell the liquor on them from where he sat, their obnoxious laughter making him cringe. His eyes kept scanning and stopped when he hit a side table, tucked near the back.
A young woman sat behind the table, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was so intent, so focused. He gazed at her face, her ebony colored skin. Even scrunched, occupied, her features were beautiful, wide brown eyes that scanned a book, a pert nose that led down to thick cherry red lips, moving ever so slightly as she read. Her short, choppy hair was held back by a dark headband, accentuating her cheekbones and her swanlike neck.
He frowned when he saw one of the preps, a blonde guy with an upturned collar, stagger over to where she sat. She tried to ignore him at first, then looked up at him with a leave-me-the-hell-alone smile. The guy didn't pick up on the hint and pulled out the chair beside her. He was saying something, casting looks at his merry band of idiots that laughed. At her expense.
The woman snapped her book closed and began gathering her things. When Jake saw her cheeks were turning rosy red, he pushed from the stool. He picked up on clips of the conversation.
"You're a pretty girl," the blonde slurred. "And smart. We'll pay you-" Jake picked up the pace, balling his fist. It appeared he was gonna get to hit something after all.
But before he could clock the guy, the woman beat him to it, the thwok as her open hand smacked his cheek cutting through whatever offensive proposition he was making.
His friends, the blonde, even Jake stood rapt, shocked.
As the blonde’s face bloomed red, his shock turned to fury as he raised his hand like he was gonna hit her back.
Like hell, Jake thought, opening his mouth, his body raw as the adrenaline coursed, focused on knocking this kid out as he bridged the distance.
But the woman just looked at him, fearless. Her mahogany eyes became slits of anger. "Will that make you feel like more of a man, hitting a woman?" She tilted her head as the guy’s hand hung in the air like a limp noodle. "Will it?"
The blonde dropped his hand awkwardly and Jake stepped up to the table, clearing his throat. "Is there a problem here?"
He stuck out his lip, then wisely decided it wasn't worth it. "Nah, man." He jumped to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor as he hustled away.
Jake kept his gaze on the prick, flexing a little for his friends before he turned back to the woman. Her head was bowed as she continued stuffing her books into a bag. "I'm sorry about that." He picked up the chair. "You should let me buy you a drink, miss-?" His voice trailed off when he took her in as she rose to her feet. She was dressed in a black and white shift, along with nylons and black tennis shoes. He saw a lanyard, like the one Carmen wore, but it was red. She was a maid.
"Not allowed to drink on the clock," she said with a bemused look. She fished out a five and left it on the table. "Not that someone like Senator Jake Cunningham would be caught with a maid after your last indiscretion with that stripper."
Jake blushed. "Exotic dancer."
"Whatever," the woman shrugged. "A lot of people say that she ruined your chances in November, pining over a stripper. Personally, I disagree."
"Oh?"
She nodded, her eyes playful. "We pretty much expect impropriety from politicians nowadays. At least you were trying to make an honest woman out of her." She glanced at a watch at her wrist before flashing Jake a grin that went straight to his crotch. "Have a good day."
He watched her leave, not even noticing Roman walk in and saddle up beside him until he waved a hand in front of his face.
“Anybody in there?” Roman asked, snapping a finger.
Jake shook his head. Smiling for the first time all day.
Roman turned around and saw what had him entranced and let out a groan. "No, Jake. Absolutely not."
"No idea what you're talking about," Jake lied, picking up his drink from the bar. He made a note to find out the woman's name. He wanted to know her.