by JA Huss
I snort.
She grips my arm again. Leans into me. Rests her head on me. Sighs. “We’re gonna be OK.”
I turn my head. Slowly. Look at her. See those amber circles in her eyes. “You sure about that?”
She nods.
“Because I don’t think we are. I think we’re a bunch of very fucked-up people and it’s all downhill from here.”
“It’s not,” she says.
But she’s wrong.
Everything is wrong. Connor showing up with that book. Letting him stay the night and fucking him. Hayes appearing in a helicopter and taking us back to that crazy mansion. Emily. Just the fact that she was there. That whole hide-and-seek game she played was just the cherry on top.
And then last night, of course. And today.
“It’s all wrong,” I say. “Every bit of this is wrong.”
“Stop it,” she whispers. “It’s not wrong.”
“Not us,” I say, turning to face her. “This.”
She squints her eyes at me, like I’m talking about her apartment. Or New York. But her furrowed brow relaxes. She takes a deep breath. “Just don’t think so hard. That’s how I get through it.”
And I want to say… Get through what? What are we getting through?
But I can’t. I can’t make myself ask those questions.
Because deep down inside I know all the answers. And deep down inside I know that’s where they need to stay.
Buried.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - CONNOR
I’m surprised to find Camille in my office. She’s with Bennett, but he’s supposed to be there. She’s not.
“Hey,” I say, walking in and dropping my briefcase on the floor next to my desk.
It’s a large office. My dad’s offices, actually. I just have one corner on the east side of the building. Thank God he’s all the way on the other side because that means I can sneak in without seeing him.
But everyone else saw me. So the reprieve will be short-lived.
“What the fuck was last night?” Bennett asks, picking up a pen from my desk, then clicks it incessantly as he leans back into the chair next to Camille.
I raise one eyebrow at him. “I’m not sure I understand the question, Counsellor.”
“The fucking… fucked-up… fuckery!” Camille spits.
“Well, thanks for that, Camille,” I say, sitting down in front of my desk. “It’s all clear now.”
“The book, Emily, the game of Clue, the dinner,” Bennett says, listing all the fuckery.
“Did you guys ever find the crazy bitch?” Camille asks.
I just stare at her, thinking back on what happened earlier. Did I make that up? I mean, I thought it was real, but Hayes… would Hayes lie to me?
“Connor?” Bennett says, losing patience fast. Which is unlike him most days. Most days he’s pretty laid back. “Answer us.”
“I mean, what do you want me to say?”
“Did they find her?”
“Yes,” I say. Because no matter if I saw her or not, she was found by someone.
“Is she back in the hospital?” Camille asks.
“I… don’t know. I mean, yes. Yes. She’s back in the hospital.”
“You don’t sound sure,” Bennett says, still clicking that pen.
“I’m sure,” I say, wholly unsure. “Now… is there a reason you’re in my office right now?”
“Yeah,” Bennett says, clicking that stupid pen again. I stare at his thumb as it presses and releases whatever that little sticking-up clicky thing is called on the end of a pen. “Your father called me in to look over your statement of candidacy and make sure all the committees are set up with the people we talked about.” He juts his head to a folder sitting in front of me on my desk.
“These?”
“Yeah. It’s all filled out except for your signature. You just never mentioned anything about the announcement last night so I was sorta surprised.”
“What?” I say.
“You’re announcing on Saturday night?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not. I’m not even gonna run. Things have changed.”
I look over at Camille and wait for her typical sardonic insult that will simultaneously cut me down and blow me up in the same breath. But she says nothing. Just looks at me with lots of questions in her eyes.
“What?” I ask her.
She shakes her head but speaks at the same time. “You ever get that feeling that you’ve been here before?”
I know what she’s talking about. The word for it escapes me, but that’s not what she’s talking about. Something else…
“So anyway,” Bennett says. “I guess I understand the announcement on Saturday night, but Louise? Why the hell?”
I want to say, What are you talking about? But I’ve used up my quota of dumbass questions for the day. Even I’m getting sick of my clueless repetition. So I take a deep breath and reply, “Louise is hosting my announcement party?”
They both nod at me, frowning. Like this makes them unhappy in a sad way. Which is weird. Then Camille says, “I’m not going.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going. I’m not going anywhere anymore. I’m staying home in my apartment and…” She lets out a long breath of air. “I’m just not going.”
“OK,” I say. Cautiously. “But”—I put my hands up, palms out—“and I’m not trying to be a dick here, but you weren’t invited. No one expects you to show up for my party. Hell, I’m not even gonna show up for my party.”
“Connor,” Bennett says. “Hayes called a little while ago and said we had to go. All six of us.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s that book,” Camille says. “That stupid book. Everything was fine until that book showed up and now everything is not. I’m not going to the party, you guys. I’m not going.”
“It’s fine, Camille,” Bennett says. “You don’t have to go.”
“You can’t go either. I need to stay with a buddy.”
She looks at me like I’m the one making Bennett go to the party. “He doesn’t have to go.”
“Tell Hayes that,” she snaps. “He’s insisting that we all be there.”
“Knock, knock.”
For fuck’s sake. My father chooses this moment to show up at my office?
“Camille. Bennett. Will you excuse us for a minute?”
Camille rudely turns her back on my father just as Bennett mumbles out, “Yeah, I’m done here. We gotta get going.”
He grabs Camille’s hand, leading her towards the door, but my father doesn’t move. He’s a big guy. Taller than me even and I’m over six foot. So he literally blocks their exit.
“Everything OK, Camille?” my father asks.
She refuses to look at him. Just keeps her head down and says, “Can we go?”
But my father doesn’t move. “Dad, get out of the way.”
He shoots me a stern look, then backs off. Camille slips by, dragging Bennett behind her by the hand.
“What the fuck was that?” I ask my father.
He steps into my office and closes the door. “I’m gonna assume you saw the paperwork? Go ahead and sign it so we can make everything official tomorrow morning and make the announcement Saturday night.”
“Yeah, we need to talk,” I say. “I’m not running.”
“Like hell, you’re not. Now sign the statement of candidacy and let’s get this going.”
“Dad, I’m not running.”
“You are running, Connor. This is what you’ve been planning—”
“No, this is what you’ve been planning. I don’t even want to be in politics.”
“No one wants to be in politics, son. It’s just something that needs to be done.”
“Look,” I say, sighing deeply and running my fingers through my hair. “I’ve made my decision. I’m not—”
But my phone dings a text in my pocket, cutting me off. I stare at my father for a few seconds. We say nothing. Then
another text comes in. I break the standoff and pull my phone out, reading the messages.
Hayes: Don’t confront your father today. We are going to Louise’s house for that party this weekend.
Hayes: Just trust me.
Just trust him.
“You’re running for Senate,” my father says. “So sign the paper and let me handle everything else. Just go home and have a drink.”
I feel like I’m living someone else’s life right now. Or I’m in some kind of alternate reality. Everything is a little bit off. This is my father, but I feel like I don’t know him. This is my office, but I feel like I have no purpose here.
“Connor,” my father snaps. “Everything has been filled out for you. Just sign the fucking paper.”
My phone dings again.
Hayes: Are you getting these messages? Don’t tell your father you’re not running yet. I’m on my way over to your office now. Just tell him what he wants to hear and meet me downstairs in five minutes.
I pick up a pen, open the folder, glance down at the papers. Just two sheets. So simple to run for Senate. Just one signature.
I sign, close the folder, and hold it out for my father. “Here. Done.”
He forces a smile as he walks forward and takes the folder from my outstretched hand. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. I’m just not sure this is what I want to do.”
“Well, that’s not nothing. That’s a complete one-eighty to what we’ve been planning and discussing for the last five years.”
I want to say so much here. Things like, I haven’t been planning anything. You’re the one who made all the plans. I just went along.
But I don’t have the energy. And besides, it feels like a losing battle. A battle I’m not prepared to fight.
“The party on Saturday is important, Connor.”
“I realize this,” I say.
“Your speechwriters are hard at work and we’ll have that for you in the morning. I don’t know what’s going on with you and your… friends. But it needs to stop.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know where you’ve been. Bennett told me you were up in Vermont visiting… that woman?”
“You mean Kiera?”
“Don’t get involved with her again. You know how hard I worked to extract you from that whole mess back in school. She was the reason that whole year happened.”
I think about that for a moment. Because it’s so obviously not true. I mean… I can’t put my finger on why everything happened the way it did in senior year, and my father certainly doesn’t know the whole truth because I never said a word to him, but it definitely wasn’t Kiera’s fault.
“Sure, Dad,” I say. “Whatever.”
He stares at me for a moment. It’s a stern, don’t-fuck-with-me stare that I haven’t seen him wear for a long time. I actually lean back in my chair, a little off balance. Then his face softens, like he’s making a conscious effort, and he says, “Good. We’re on our way now, Con. In three years you’ll be on your way to DC and that’s when your life really starts.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, forcing a smile. But it’s just like the lie he told about Kiera. So obviously not true.
If he picks up on that, he holds it in. Because he’s wearing his public persona smile right now. I learned to recognize it early. Fake.
“I’ll get this over to Steven and he’ll be your handler from here.”
And then he walks out.
I don’t like that word. Handler. I’ve known Steven my entire life. But he’s my father’s friend, not mine.
My phone dings again. A quick look lets me know that Hayes is downstairs waiting.
I didn’t even get to take my coat off, but it’s already evening. And I don’t want to be here. So I pick up my briefcase and make my way down to Hayes’ waiting car pulled up alongside the curb in front of the building.
I get in. “Jesus Christ. I don’t think I realized it before today, but I don’t like my father.”
Hayes just offers me a glass with Scotch over ice. “You signed the papers?”
“How’d you know?”
“I saw Bennett and Camille come out. He told me. Did you sign?”
“I signed.”
“Good.”
“How is that good? I told you, I don’t want to run for office. And he’s already up in my shit about Kiera.”
“Did you tell him about the book?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good. Forget about him until Saturday. I have a plan.”
“What plan?” I ask, taking a long, much-needed sip of my drink.
“Tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll go over it tomorrow. Tonight we’re going home and forgetting about all this bullshit.”
“Home?”
“Sofia’s place. Kiera’s there. And that’s where we’re gonna stay. At least this weekend.”
I relax a little. Sink down into the soft leather seats of the car. Think about last night. Not the weird parts. And by weird I don’t mean the fucking foursome we had. I mean… Emily. The book. That kinda weird stuff.
“Sounds nice,” I say.
Hayes nods, looking absently out the window. “Yeah, it really kinda does.”
I picture how we’ll spend the evening. Dinner? Drinks? Sex? It all sounds great. But all this comes with so many questions. And this time none of them are about Emily and the book.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
Hayes glances at me, then returns to looking out the window. “We’re living, Connor. That’s all this is. For once in our lives, we’re living.”
I think about that all the way up to Sofia’s Upper East Side apartment. Wonder if he’s right. I haven’t felt this… melancholy, for lack of a better word, in a very long time. Maybe never. But I don’t feel like I wasn’t living these past ten years. I did a lot of shit. Went to law school with Bennett. That’s what I did first, though I never practiced. Just passed the bar and hung those accolades up on my office wall. But it was planned that way. It was just the required background for an eventual political career.
I dated some girls. One for a few years.
What was her name?
I huff out a laugh. Embarrassed, ashamed? For not remembering.
“What’s so funny?”
“Did you know I dated a woman for almost three years and right now I can’t even remember her name?”
He looks at me like, And that’s funny why?
“It’s funny because you said… we’re gonna live now, you know. And I was thinking, hey, I’ve lived. I’ve done plenty. Got that law degree on my wall to prove it. But I swear to God, I can see this girl’s face and I can’t even remember her name.”
“It’s like you blocked her out.” Hayes sighs.
“Lisa,” I say. “No, Liza. Yeah. Fucking Liza. She was a…”
But I don’t have the word ready so I need a second to think.
“She was a what?” Hayes says.
“A wife, ya know? That type of girl.”
“Let me guess, your father loved her?”
Did he? “Yeah, he kinda did.”
“So why’d you break it off?”
I shrug. “It just felt so fake, ya know? She was boring.”
“Stepford Wives often are,” he deadpans.
And I laugh. Because he’s right. And those are the words I was looking for. “Yeah, that chick was no Kiera. She’s never gonna write an erotic story.”
Hayes is quiet as we slowly make our way through rush-hour traffic. Then he says, “Did you ever read Sofia’s erotica?”
“No. I didn’t even know she wrote that stuff until Kiera told me. I thought she was sitting up in her princess tower penning literature all these years.”
“Did you ever read Kiera’s stuff?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Why have you?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s pretty dark shit. You know, Stockholm syndrome kinda shit.”
“Wai
t, this is Kiera? Or both of them?”
“Both.”
“Huh,” I say.
“Why?”
“It’s just… Kiera’s kinda dark like that so I get it. But Sofia.” I shake my head. “Never pictured her writing anything other than boring tales of boring women.”
“You know what’s really funny?” Hayes asks me.
“What?”
“Camille writes uplifting shit.”
I laugh. Kinda loud. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“No, really.”
“You read all of them?”
He nods. “Yeah, she writes funny stuff with positive messages.”
“Gross,” I say.
We both laugh.
Then he says, “I’ve missed you, Con.”
I grin and look at him. “Yeah, ditto. Feels good to be with you guys again. I’ve had Bennett in my life for what seems like forever. But it’s not the same. I’m not glad that book was written, but if it had to be written then I’m glad it brought us all back together.” Then I think about it a little more thoroughly and add, “Well, except for Emily.”
“Why not Emily?” he asks.
I just laugh at his joke.
“No, really. Why not Emily?”
“Because she fucking shot Kiera, Hayes. She could’ve killed her.”
“But if all that shit in the tower is true—”
“What do you mean if it’s true?”
“—then it wasn’t her fault.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” But even as the words are coming out of my mouth I’m picturing Emily this morning. I didn’t do it.
“I’m just saying that she did what she had to, that’s all. It was an impossible situation. I think we all agree on that. Some nameless, faceless stranger controlling us without our consent. Making us perform sexual acts and shit. It’s so fucked up. You can’t really blame her.”
“Well, yeah, I can. Because she did that the very first night. Nothing even happened at that point. We didn’t know what that year was gonna turn into. She just… got an order and followed it. Which is fucked up. So yeah, I blame her. She split us up from the beginning. Maybe if we had a chance to talk shit over before—”
“Talk what over?” Hayes asks.
“Whatever.” I laugh. “The tower.”