that's my peach

Summary: Set when Alice and Phyllis (Mrs. America) share a hotel room in St. Louis. Yes, they are going to get together. 

Notes: I haven’t written in years, so please be kind. I’m aware that this is very short, I’m trying to get the writing muscle working again. I do plan on continuing this little thingy. Obviously I own nothing.

Part 1 

As the sunlight was washed out of her hotel room by dusk, Phyllis’s headache was intensified by the dull glow of the yellow light from the desk lamp. Editing Kissinger’s speeches was no small feat, she’d all but expelled the remaining red ink from her pen all over the man’s proposed dialogue. Eyes closed, defeatedly rubbing her temples in a circular motion she lifted her head to find her eyes fixed on a bottle of scotch on the foyer table. Smoothing back the fallen blonde curls from her updo, she stood and made her way to the room’s entrance eyeing the amber contents on the table.

She drummed her nails on the wooden surface before deciding to pick up the card propped against the bottle- “ Mrs. Schlafly, Who would have thought that the best banana bread in the States came from the Land of Lincoln? Good luck in St. Louis. - Senator Jesse Helms.” Haphazardly tucking the card back into its envelope she left it strewn on the table, retreating back into the room with her prize in search from a tumbler. She braced the desk kicking off her heels and winced at the loud pop the cork made as she opened the bottle before pouring two fingers of scotch. Sighing lightly she slumped back into her desk chair nursing her much needed cocktail and began her work once again.

Two hours and half a bottle of scotch later, the blonde found herself freed from the pounding headache. Phyllis sat perched on the edge of the bed watching television, entranced a little too much in the chaotic pattern of a newscaster’s tie. The sound of the door being shut and locked disturbed her narrowed gaze as she straightened her posture at the arrival of Alice into their shared quarters for the weekend.

“How did it go with the girls?” Phyllis asked clearing her throat quietly, running a hand over her forehead as to wipe her mind shiny and sharp again as it had been before the scotch.

“It wasn’t much of a brainstorming session, but I guess I should have known that when we found ourselves in the bar on the corner.” Alice laughed to herself, leaning a shoulder against the wall to pry her heels off.