The Congressman's Whore

by Clancy Nacht

  “No, I don’t understand. I’m sorry, man. Maybe we can talk through it? What did I do? Upton’s a good guy. He wouldn’t want you to hurt. Tell me about it, all right?”

  “No! No! You’re a monster. You’re a slut. A whore. You trapped him. You should just die.” The man’s face screwed up. He hadn’t moved any closer within reach.

  Sloan was going to die right here, right now, being called a whore. His whole life had led up to this moment. Whatever happiness he’d managed, whatever love he’d found, whatever hopes he held for the future, they were all an illusion because a whore was all that anyone would ever see him as.

  But at least if he was shot here, if he died in this moment, maybe Upton would know Sloan loved him. That Sloan had wanted to protect him. That Sloan wouldn’t run.

  He closed his eyes and heard the shot. He braced for an impact, but it hit not his head or his chest, but his shoulder.

  There was a grunt and then a sound like a dropped melon. People started shouting. Sloan opened his eyes to see a woman, compact, determined, efficient, on top of their attacker. She slammed the wrist holding the gun repeatedly to the ground until he released the weapon.

  A few more people emerged from the gathering crowd, some holding back the crowd, another two rushing to help restrain the attacker.

  Many had their phones out, filming for posterity.

  Sloan grasped numbly at his arm, pulling away his fingers coated in blood, but it couldn’t be more than a graze thanks to the woman who’d tackled the gunman. He stared at her a moment longer to make certain she had the gunman under control, and then he turned to look at Upton.

  Blood pooled around him and soaked his shirt. The bullet had hit him in the shoulder. Lower than on Sloan, still well above vital organs, but it was gushing. Sloan yanked off his own shirt, hissing as it pulled away from the graze, and then wadded it up to apply pressure to Upton’s wound.

  “Hey. Hey, Upton. Look at me.” Sloan patted Upton’s face to get him to focus, trying to draw his attention and keep him conscious until an ambulance could arrive. Upton’s gaze roamed wildly around until he focused on Sloan.

  Sobbing, Upton reached up with a bloody, shaking hand to touch Sloan’s bare shoulder. He looked nearly mad with pain; the tendons stood out on his neck. Upton glanced at his own shoulder and winced, hissing through his mouth as he tried to sit up. “Sloan. Sloan, you’re all right, right?”

  Upton was probably in shock, but the sirens were growing louder.

  People milled around, filming this most personal moment between them. Fucking vultures.

  “I’m all right, Upton. We’re going to be all right.”

  Upton turned his head, seeming on the verge of tears, so Sloan leaned in and kissed him, wanting that contact, needing to be close to him. All he wanted was to protect Upton, to keep the world away, to keep his own body between Upton and the attacker.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Sloan promised, raging at his own impotence to save him, his own inability to take down the man who’d hurt his husband.

  As the police pulled up, the crowd made room. Armed officers came shouting and running in, rushing to the gunman. An ambulance arrived close behind, and EMTs ran out with a stretcher to retrieve Upton.

  “Sir, you’re hurt.” One of the EMTs tried to draw Sloan away from Upton, but he jerked his arm away.

  “I’m fine. Take care of my husband.” Sloan stepped away, but he held onto Upton’s hand, moving only as far as the EMTs forced him as they loaded Upton onto the stretcher.

  “We need to attend your wound.” The EMT tried again to coax Sloan away, but he shook his head.

  “No. I’m fine. I’ll ride to the hospital with Upton. You can tend to me when we get there. I’m not in any danger.” Sloan shot a look back at where the police had the gunman in custody. “At least not now.”

  He looked at Upton’s disoriented face, paler than usual, and struggled against despair and fury. Part of him wanted to break away and kick in the gunman’s teeth for what he’d done. The rest of him couldn’t stand to be away from Upton, so he stayed where he was, dogging Upton as the EMTs loaded him into the ambulance for the ride to the hospital.

  Everything in the ambulance seemed to beep and whir. The space was cramped. Two EMTs sat on either side of Upton’s chest, tending to his oxygen and staunching the bleeding, leaving Sloan to sit near his legs. He wanted to hold Upton’s hand, but there was too much movement, so he wrapped his fingers around Upton’s ankle.

  Upton lifted his head. The oxygen mask on his face prevented him from saying much, but he looked so grateful to Sloan for being there. The ride felt like it took forever, but it probably wasn’t long. Sloan’s phone was buzzing in his pocket, but he couldn’t bear to answer.

  Upton was rushed into an operating room and then the nurses turned on Sloan, taking him into an exam area to check out the wound in his arm. Once they determined he’d only been grazed and nothing critical was damaged, they cleaned him up, bandaged him, gave him a shirt to wear, and turned him over to a detective.

  Sloan’s phone kept vibrating the whole time he made his report to the police. He didn’t have much to say, and they already had the man in custody, so it didn’t take long. By the time the detective left and Sloan was free to return to the waiting area, Sloan felt adrift.

  Upton was in surgery, maybe fighting for his life. In the ambulance, they’d suggested it wasn’t a fatal injury, but they’d warned him there might be complications. What would Sloan do?

  His phone buzzed again, and this time Sloan answered, moving to the quietest corner of the waiting room and sinking down onto an uncomfortable bench. It was Sierra.

  “Oh my god, the news is all over. Are you okay? You’re answering the phone, so I assume you’re okay.”

  Sloan covered his face in his hand and tried not to look at the others in the waiting area. “I’m... Physically, I’ll be fine. Upton’s in emergency surgery.”

  “Oh shit. Do you want me there?”

  Until Sierra asked, it would never have occurred to Sloan to reach out. But the thought of her holding his hand and keeping him company in his vigil eased something tight and aching in his chest. “Would you? I don’t—”

  She cut him off. “I’ll be there in ten. Stay strong. Get some coffee and settle in. Love you, Sloan.”

  That caught him off guard, but he murmured, “You too, Si.”

  Sloan closed his eyes and let relief wash over him as he put away his phone. How long had it been since someone told Sloan they loved him? He hadn’t said it back, not exactly, though he did love Sierra. How long had it been since he’d said those words himself?

  He should’ve told Upton. He’d known, if he was honest, since that last night on the yacht. He’d fallen hard, but since they’d returned to D.C., they hadn’t had much time together. It had never seemed like...

  Like what?

  Upton clearly cared about him. And maybe Upton didn’t walk around proclaiming he was Sloan’s to the world and everyone, but he wore a ring, and when they fucked, Sloan didn’t doubt that Upton belonged to him. Was that love?

  Even if it wasn’t, it was something. Something that maybe...

  Sloan couldn’t sit still. His heart knotted and twisted, his chest too tight to contain it. He stood and wandered until he found the coffee, poured a cup and drained it, and then poured a second before heading back to the waiting room.

  When he entered, he spotted Sierra immediately. She came toward him with both arms out and he let her enfold him in a welcome hug. Careful of his cup, he wrapped his arms around her in return and soaked in the sense of well-being she gave him amid the tragedy and confusion.

  “Let’s go sit down, okay?” Sierra hustled him toward a free bench.

  “Thank you for coming.” Sloan folded in on himself, but she extended her arm to rest around his shoulders gently, hugging him sideways.

  “Always, Sloan. I know we’re not... Neither of us is real demonstrative, but we’re
as close as people like us get. I’d trust you with my life.”

  “Really?” Sloan turned his head to consider her soft, dark eyes. They seemed so tender, though most of the time she seemed as slick with charm as he did. She wasn’t wrong that they were alike.

  “Really. It meant a lot to me that you made me the best woman at your wedding, that you chose me to go with you and... I didn’t know about your life, and I never really told you about mine, but it was never because I didn’t trust you. I just didn’t want to be that vulnerable with someone from school, you know? Someone not my family. It just didn’t feel like your business.”

  Sierra smiled a little and shrugged. “But you’ve brought me into the middle of something amazing, and I... This is gonna sound mercenary, but being your friend and being part of all this has opened doors for me. I’m feeling pretty ride or die.”

  Sloan hung his head and laughed humorlessly. “So glad to have been of service. And yeah, I guess I trust you, I have for a long time, but I’m not used to opening up or...” He hesitated, studying her intently. Then he asked, his stomach hollow, “If I confess something to you, will you promise to keep it secret?”

  Sierra’s brow furrowed, but she nodded. “You know I will.”

  Sloan exhaled heavily, looked around to make certain no one was listening to them, and then leaned in close to whisper to Sierra. “Upton was a client. We weren’t in love. I... Some of my other clients were afraid I’d talk under pressure, once I was outed as a sex worker. They made threats. Upton married me to save my life.”

  Sierra covered her mouth with one hand and frowned hard. The wheels in her head turned visibly, her eyes suddenly hard and focused. She searched Sloan’s face and then asked, “You said weren’t. Are you now?”

  “I—” Sloan felt flayed open, pinned to the spot and exposed. He bit his lip and nodded. “I am. I hope he is.”

  “But you haven’t told him.” Sierra sounded certain of that. She sighed and lifted a hand to cup Sloan’s cheek as she stared into his eyes. “You can’t keep everything to yourself all the time. I know it’s rich coming from me, but open up. That man looks at you like you’re the only thing he sees.”

  Sloan ducked his head, trying not to meet her intense gaze, but he pressed his cheek into her touch. “This is new to me.”

  “Baby, that’ll just make it sweeter to him. You have to tell him.” Sierra patted his cheek and then dropped her hands into her lap. “Now drink that coffee. It’s gonna be a long night.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  Once the doctors moved Upton to a private room, Sloan could sit with his heavily sedated husband. Sierra headed home—it was already past three—and Candice joined the vigil instead. She’d been out of state, and dealing with travel had held her up, but most of the missed calls on his phone had been from her.

  He felt a twinge of guilt for not answering, but she had connections enough to stay apprised of the situation, no matter where she’d come from.

  Wired on bad hospital coffee, Sloan didn’t stand a chance of sleeping, not even with the painkillers they’d given him for his wound. Instead, he sat fidgeting quietly by Upton’s bedside, watching Candice pace while on the phone in the hallway outside, following up with her people and the police, trying to coordinate how they were going to spin this. Even in her fear for her son, she intimidated Sloan. Like Sierra, she was a hell of a woman.

  Sloan sighed and braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He had a sweater now at least, good because the hospital was freezing, and clean slacks. Candice had brought them to him herself, but they hadn’t had an opportunity to exchange more than a few words yet.

  Would she blame Sloan for igniting this incident?

  The last thing Sloan needed was more people disliking him or thinking he’d sullied or endangered a national icon.

  “See to it.” Candice finished her call and stood in the doorway. The room was mostly dark, the hallway bright. Sloan could see little but glinting in her eyes. Then a sniff and a discreet swipe of her finger next to her right eye.

  She took a couple of steps into the room, then placed her hand on Sloan’s shoulder. “How’s your arm? Are you sure you don’t want to go home and rest? I have a driver who can take you.”

  The concern eased Sloan’s anxiety a little. He shook his head. “I need to be with him, Candice. I’m sure you understand. He...” Sloan’s voice cracked, and he averted his gaze. “He’s my husband.”

  How could he make her understand? Would she believe him if he told her? She was the one who hated whores, the one who’d been so disappointed in Upton for even seeing him, let alone marrying him.

  “Of course he is.” She squeezed his sound shoulder gently. The room was small, but another chair had been brought for her at the end of the bed. She took it and slid her phone into her purse. “I’ve been told I can continue to wake people up, but it won’t make him any less injured. I suppose that’s true, but at least yelling at people feels like I’m doing something. I’m not good at this part, the waiting. Even though I know he’ll be all right, even though I know that this…“

  Candice glared at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “That reptilian part of my brain that has been in politics for too long tells me that this will help his career. I hate that I think like that. But not spinning it won’t do him any good.”

  “You’re a good mother, Candice. Don’t beat yourself up about doing what you need to ensure his political survival. He’s doing a lot of good for people.” Sloan answered with more feeling than he intended, the words pouring out emphatic and certain. He gazed at her intently, willing her to hear him. “You’re here as his mother, but you’re still his fixer. He wouldn’t thank you for slacking off. He’d understand, but when he wakes up, it’s gonna be a load off his mind to know you’ve got things under control.”

  Sloan’s hand trembled a little as he lifted it to push his hair out of his face. “You didn’t see him, but he was... He was so scared. It was like all his nightmares had come true at once. He wanted me to run, but I...” Sloan shook his head and stared down at Candice’s designer shoes. “He needs us to do what we do, so he can get better and do what he does.”

  She looked into his eyes, hers wide and wet. “When he was younger, he did have nightmares about being gunned down. I imagine that even if you two aren’t in love, that it would still have been his nightmare if you’d been killed.”

  Candice swallowed hard and then put her hand back on his shoulder. “But I am grateful that you were there for him. The video of you two is all over the internet and the news. It’s turned the tide for a lot of people on how they feel about you. It definitely looked as if you two were very close.”

  “It was supposed to be a date,” Sloan whispered, his voice hoarse and ragged. He couldn’t look at her, half-afraid of rejection. “A real one. Our first.” He forced his gaze up to lock on hers, challenging. “I was willing to die there with him, rather than run. If I could’ve gotten between him and that first bullet, I’d have taken that one too.”

  “A date.” She smiled. A pair of tears slid down her cheeks. “That’s wonderful. That’s really, really… Oh, Sloan. I could tell that he really liked you. If you’d gotten between him and that bullet, he would never have forgiven himself.”

  Candice tightened her hand gently on Sloan’s good shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. “I am so glad that you were with him and that you’re here now. I wasn’t entirely sure about you at first, but you’ve... You make him happy. You make me proud. But don’t think you have to take a bullet for any of us.”

  Sloan wrapped his arms around her, scooting to the edge of his chair to return her embrace as his mind reeled. She was proud of him?

  “Thanks.” Sloan didn’t know what to do with her words. He couldn’t remember the last time a mother hugged him. His chest swelled and ached, and he tightened his grip on her unintentionally. “I’m glad I was with him, too. I won’t ever leave him alone if I can help it.”

/>   He pulled away self-consciously and wrapped his arms around himself, studying her face. “I’ll take care of him. Just like I promised in our vows.”

  “You’re going to make me cry and muss my make-up. I’ve probably redone it five times today already; don’t get me started.” Candice pulled away, not recoiling, but measured to give him space. “That’s all I’ve wanted for him. That’s what family is. Sometimes you’re lucky and you’re born into a family that loves you and will care for you. But sometimes, as I’ve seen with friends and colleagues, sometimes you choose your family. This is the first time I’ve seen life throw people together in this way, but I’m glad it has.”

  She looked sadly at Upton and exhaled. “Now I know you’re probably going to blame yourself for what this man has done, but if it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been whoever else Upton had ended up with. He’s getting help now.”

  “Who was he? What was that about?” Sloan knew Upton got love letters, that he had stalkers, but security was supposed to stay on top of that. They were supposed to have warning if something escalated.

  Another thought occurred to him. “Do we know anything about the woman who stopped him?” Tears stung Sloan’s eyes, but he held back, choosing his words carefully to maintain control. “We need to thank her. If she hadn’t... I couldn’t protect him, Candice. He was going to kill me to get to Upton. Can you... Please let her know how grateful I am. Send her flowers or... What can I even do to say thank you?”

  “I wish I could tell you that the man was something more than he was. He fixated on Upton years ago. The Secret Service was aware of him. He would’ve been flagged when he got a weapon, but it came from a cache of weapons owned by his mother. Religious upbringing, though not that strict. Apparently, his mother died and there was no one else close to him to notice his deterioration. It’s all very unfortunate.” It sounded like a speech she was reciting.