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Isn't it clear?"
    Mickey ran a hand through his spiky hair. "Oh yeah, it's clear all right.
    Congresswoman Cummings is going to run for Senator Mannogue's seat. Not as
    Democrat, but as a charter member and founder of a women's political party she
    and some unnamed women started. Brenda, baby, this is a bombshell. Do you
    realize if you are able to pull this off, you will shake the pillars of American politics? Things will never be the same. Women even have the numbers to
    become the majority party."
    Calming down, Brenda cracked, "When did you learn to read?"
    Mickey nudged her. "Smart aleck!"
    She giggled. "Sorry I couldn't resist. Is there anything you want to know?"
    "Of course. For starters, tell me who the unnamed women are."
    "Sally's campaign manager, Lindy Rollins is one."
    "I figured that, and I suppose you're one, but who are the others and how
    many are we talking about?"
    "We never discussed releasing that information, so I'm not at liberty to say."
    "Okay, what can you say?"
    "I don't know. You can ask. I'll answer the questions I can."
    "Why no men?"
    "Men are welcome, however with women being underrepresented in all
    levels of government, our main agenda is expansion of female elected officials
    from local and state to federal."
    "Are you actively seeking members?"
    "Not yet. We hope to be ready by the end of the month."
    "So I could join SAFE."
    Brenda snickered. "Absolutely."
    "What's so funny?"
    "I was just trying to picture you in pink."
    Mickey leaned back and roared with laughter. "I assume you're joking."
    Brenda's tension had been slipping away. She snickered again. "I'm sorry,
    but I'm not at liberty to answer that question."
    He shook his head again and laughed. "You're a stinker. Answer this for
    me, then."
    She waggled her brow and teased. "What?"
    Mickey took her hand. "Will you go to dinner with me, please?"
    Brenda sipped her iced tea with her other hand. "I'm sorry, but I'm not at
    liberty to answer that question."
    Mickey took a deep breath. "I have to go, but I want to discuss some things about your women's party with you. I think I can be a big help. Can we talk
    about it over dinner?"
    "What kind of help?"
    "Think about it. I know scores of people in the publishing business and
    more than a few in television. Whatd'ya say? Can I pick you up at six
    tomorrow?"
    "I don't know."
    Mickey lifted his tie. "If I wore a pink tie, would you have dinner with me?"
    She snickered. "I might, if you wore a white shirt, pink socks and black
    slacks, too.
    "Okay, I'll humiliate myself to have dinner with you. Do we have a date?"
    "All right, a dinner date only—on one condition."
    "What?"
    "You answer one question."
    "What?"
    "Why you're so hot to go out with me. In case you missed it, I'm black and
    you're white. I know interracial dating isn't that rare anymore, but I've never
    done it and frankly it scares the bejesus out of me."
    "Why?"
    Brenda thought for a moment, then flashed a mischievous smile. "I'm sorry,
    but I'm not at liberty to answer that question."
    "Brenda, you are too much. I've never had this much trouble getting a date."
    "I'll bet."
    "What does that mean?"
    "It means you're accomplished, handsome, and have a rep as a lady killer.
    Why do you want to go out with this fresh out of college, wet behind the ears,
    African American girl?"
    "Truth?"
    She nodded.
    He shrugged. "I don't know. I like you and I think you're beautiful, but
    there are lots of beautiful girls. I see at least one or two girls every day, but there's just something about you that shouts out, I'm more than a beautiful face with a fantastic body—I have substance. Now, will you go to dinner with me?"
    Mickey made Brenda feel so good, she wanted to kiss him. "Yes."
    "Thank God." He took her hand and kissed it. "I'll pick you up at six tomorrow in my pink tie and socks."
    "No."
    "No?"
    "No, I'll meet you Friday night at Gringo's at seven o'clock."
    "Gringo's. Wouldn't you like to go someplace a little fancier—a little