CHAPTER 33
Groomed to Be a Player
The walk back to the bungalow, in the escalating heat and humidity, was miserable. Priscilla could not imagine why anybody would plan a conference here at this time of year. It was nearly Thanksgiving and this junket came on the heels of one they had taken in Chicago to learn about President Reagan’s new welfare reform. Why was the senator so intent on getting her out of the capital?
Before she reached her bungalow, she was accosted by an intoxicated man.
“Hey, baby, you lost or something? Why don’t ya come home with me?”
Priscilla barely looked at the man. Probably, she assumed, he was one of the conference guests. Her stomach churned, but she kept pace in a steady stride on the pathway to her bungalow.
“So,” he called out, “you’re too good to speak
