Chapter 2

Before Olivia arrived at Leon's Diner, she texted him.

12-21-95

By the time she found a parking spot behind the restaurant, she received one back.

Patterson, IL

Relieved he was free to see her, she entered the diner and chose her usual booth in the corner furthest from the door. She ordered a glass of water filled to the brim with ice cubes. While she waited, she absently chewed on them.

The past few days, she'd been debating on what to tell him. Anytime she dealt with Hollis Doyle, he became her confidant. Long ago, they'd agreed the politician was not to be trusted, no matter how monetarily kind he could be. Should something happen to her, he'd know who was responsible. It was a safety net; the only one Olivia was willing to cast. She trusted him with her life.

She noticed him enter just a few minutes shy of ten in the evening. While he searched for her, she admired the tailored, indigo suit and dressy black shoes he wore. It'd been three months since they'd last spoken in public. She forgot just how impeccable his fashion sense had become.

Clearly, he's finding better clients than I am.

He located her a moment later and she beckoned him over with a luminescent smile. This was another luxury afforded from seeing him again. She rarely had to fabricate her emotions.

"Liv," he greeted, slipping into the opposite side of the booth.

"Harrison."

She extended a hand and he slipped his into it.

"It's good to see you," she said.

They detached their embrace and waited for the waitress to arrive. In under five minutes, his hands were secured around a mug of steaming black coffee.

"Long night ahead of you?" she asked after their waitress had departed.

"If I locate my client's hundred grand by tomorrow night, I get to keep a quarter," he said. "Can't afford to sleep."

"How is it you always get the easy cases?"

He threw her a disbelieving look. "Easy? I haven't slept in three days."

With that, he downed half of the mug in one go.

She looked on, impressed. "Okay, point taken."

"How bout you? Any luck on the Whelan case?"

Frowning, she studied the condensation forming on her glass.

"She's being released on the 13th."

"Released?" He examined her closely. "As in released, released?"

"Yes."

"How'd you manage that? Not that I doubt your ability to get business done. You're a pro. But from what I read in the paper, the chance of acquittal looked grim."

"I had help. Hollis Doyle."

Harrison quickly peered around the diner before leaning forward.

"Liv, you're better than that. Don't tell me you got him involved."

"Of course not," she replied, lowering her voice. "I'd sooner deal with terminal cancer than ask him for a favor."

The disgust on her face calmed Harrison somewhat.

"How's he involved?"

"He came to me with an assignment. To entice me into saying yes, he offered to help exonerate Abby."

"Seeing as she's being released, you said yes?"

She detected a hint of frustration in his voice, but couldn't fault him for it.

"After I finish the assignment, he's paying me two million."

Harrison froze. "Two million?"

She nodded.

Whistling, he took another drink from his mug.

"It's not an amount I could say no to."

He considered her response for a moment.

"I don't know I'd be able to say no either."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, temporarily losing their thoughts to the soft murmurs of dispersed clientele in the diner and the angry, Spanish shouts flying out of the kitchen.

"You know I gotta ask."

"I know."

Before he could interrogate her further, she pulled out a folder and slid it across the table.

Harrison busied himself with the contents inside. She watched him read over the general information of the President, as she had done days prior. His confusion was much more detectable than hers had been.

"Turn the page," she suggested after he threw her a perplexed look.

Harrison obeyed.

"No way this is his."

He picked up the platinum credit card, rereading Hollis Doyle's name on front.

"It's a way for him to control the assignment. Paying for the hotel and anything else I need lets him know where I am at all times."

"Why?" He looked up. "He's always given you distance to do your thing."

She didn't answer, instead, opting to gaze out the window.

Harrison returned to the folder.

"Round way trip to DC," he read, bringing the plane ticket closer to his eyes. "Departing the 13th. That's the day after tomorrow."

His eyes fell onto the RSVP slip.

"Is that what I think it is?"

This time, he waited for her to respond.

Containing a heavy sigh, Olivia turned back to him.

"Yes."

"You know the kind of people you have to rub shoulders with to get invited to this event?" He fingered the outline of the silver, engraved invitation. "It's nearly impossible unless you're a higher up in DC."

His own statement ushered in an epiphany. "Doesn't the President always attend?"

She smiled, but it failed to reach her eyes.

"Yes."

Harrison re-observed the contents of the folder.

"What exactly is Doyle having you do?"

She struggled to answer without sounding guilty.

You'll never have to admit this to anyone other than him. Just this once. As a fail-safe, he has to know.

"He wants me to get intimately acquainted with President Grant on the evening of the gala. Didn't say why, but it's obvious he wants him distracted."

Harrison stared at her, expression unreadable.

"No judgment," she said, unafraid to return his stare. "We agreed when we started doing this."

"Liv-."

"No judgment."

It was clear he had a lot to say, but mercifully, he stood down. Instead, his focus returned to the folder.

A second later and she was surprised to hear him expel a wry laugh.

"What?"

"It's funny when I think about it," he admitted, shaking his head. "My childhood friend, Olivia Pope, is going to seduce the President of the United States."

Reluctantly, she grinned as well.

"Funnier too is Doyle hiring you to do it. You're not exactly the seducing type."

She knew he meant no ill will in voicing this. Seduction was not a skill she held in her arsenal.

"That's probably what's making me the most nervous. I mean, what if he doesn't like-." She gestured down at herself.

"What's not to like? You're an intelligent, beautiful black woman. If he doesn't like that, it's a helluva loss on his part."

She arched a brow. "Beautiful? Why Harrison, I never knew."

He shrugged. "Just stating it like I see it. A word of advice- try being confident around him. I've worked enough around his type. Powerful, controlled, wealthy. They respect confidence. You'll get him to notice you that way."

"Maybe Doyle should've hired you."

"Got his number?"

That he could help make light of such a serious assignment brought Olivia some much needed relief. Her mind had been on this assignment day and night, both willingly and unwillingly. Concerns too personal to speak with Harrison about, flooded her at the most inopportune times. Taking out the trash. Soaking in a bath. Picking up groceries.

With a joke, Harrison reminded her of something essential. No matter how the assignment turned out, she at least had him.

"What are you gonna wear?"

She plucked an ice cube from her glass and popped it in her mouth.

"Dunno. That's important, isn't it?"

"Considering you dress like a middle school teacher, yeah."

Suppressing a smile, Olivia continued chewing on the ice until it was melted.

"Before the gala, I'm going to do some shopping. It's the only part of this assignment I'm looking forward to. Wounding Doyle's bank account."

"I'll look into some shops in DC," he promised, pulling out his cell. "A friend of a friend owns a chain of gown boutiques up there."

"Thank you, Harrison."

"If you're gonna be doing this, you're gonna look damn good doing it."

When he finally pocketed his cell, Olivia decided to bring up the second topic of conversation she'd been meaning to have with him.

"I have a favor to ask."

"Prior to tonight, I didn't think you could surprise me," he said. "I'm all ears."

"Abby Whelan is going to be staying at my apartment. I don't know how long yet. I'm planning to pick her up the morning of the 13th."

"Need me to play babysitter?"

"You don't have to check in every hour," Olivia assured. "Just give her a call once a day and ask how she's holding up. She's going to be a little frail. I don't want to leave her entirely alone."

"Consider it handled."

She gazed at him for a long moment. "What the hell did I do to get such a good friend?"

"Nothing," he answered. "You think I should start charging you?"

"Only if you want payment in the form of cheap wine and Bobby Womack albums."

x_X_x_X_x

Olivia rechecked her luggage for the third time.

"I still don't understand," Abby said, following her into the bedroom. "I mean I'm grateful-."

She peered down at her feet, twiddling her hands nervously.

"I just-I don't know how you did it. And you haven't been very clear with me."

Olivia turned around. "Do you regret me clearing you of murder?"

Her eyes widened. "Of course not. You know that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

She felt slightly bad watching Abby fumble for a response. Since her arrival, the woman had been walking on egg shells around her. Olivia attributed it to a mix of gratitude and disbelief. As optimistic as she'd tried to appear during their meetings in prison, Abby wasn't naive enough to ignore the improbability of acquittal. It was clear she was still in a daze from the verdict.

Her persistent questions didn't help the matter. Olivia still hadn't conjured up a believable answer as to how she'd done it. For obvious reasons, the truth was off-limits.

"I'm sorry." She lowered her head. "I probably sound like an ungrateful bitch."

Olivia gently approached her. "You don't. I understand you're still taking it in. When I return from DC, I'll explain it further, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Abby agreed, attempting a smile. "Can you at least tell me why you're being nice enough to let me stay at your place? Don't get me wrong, I like you, but I don't, you know..."

She gestured her head at Olivia's unmade bed.

Containing the urge to laugh, Olivia answered, "Rest assured, you're not gonna wake up with me trying to crawl into bed with you."

"If it's any consolation, I'd choose you over my ex."

This time, she didn't bother keeping back her amusement.

"That's kind of you, Miss Whelan."

"It's Abby." She straightened up. "You got me off for murder. I think we can call each other by first name."

She sure rebounds quick. Maybe being on her own won't be so bad.

"Local news stations will be staking out your house," Olivia explained, grabbing the handle of her luggage. "The outcome of the trial wasn't exactly favorable to everyone. If anything, think of it as a safety precaution."

Abby bit her lip and nodded.

"A friend of mine named Harrison is going to be ringing here everyday to check in. His number's also on my fridge. If you need anything, call him."

"What about you?"

"I'll be-."

Up to no good.

"-indisposed," Olivia finished. "I have business in DC. It shouldn't take more than a week."

"Okay."

Before she exited her apartment, Olivia paused beside Abby's rigid form. Though they were on first name basis, she wasn't sure if they were friendly enough to embrace. The only other person she did this with was Harrison. Despite being in contact twice a week for three months, she wasn't yet sure how to handle parting with the woman. Especially outside of a prison cell where their relationship had been nothing more than hired specialist and client.

"Take care of yourself, Abby," Olivia said, offering up her hand.

She clasped it lightly. "Thank you. I'll find a way to pay you back for this."

"Think nothing of it. Try to relax this week."

She offered the young woman a smile. Abby attempted to return it, but it got buried behind a series of sniffles as she wiped one teary eye with the back of her hand.

The plane leaves in less than an hour.

Olivia turned and marched to the front door, ignoring the guilt eating away at her. She'd never been good at comforting people, especially when they cried. Long ago, she'd learned to stifle her own negative emotions to the point that they passed with the ease of a minor headache. She could offer Abby nothing, even if she wanted to. Worse, she couldn't help but ask herself why the woman couldn't bury her pain like she'd been taught to do.

I can't be like this around Grant. He'll never lower his guard.

Throughout her four hour journey to DC, Olivia again debated how to best go about seducing the President. Almost every scenario suggested she adopt a version of herself she wasn't sure she was capable of being.

Two million. Two million. Two million.

By the time the plane touched down, a semblance of a plan finally began to form.