Chapter 29
Sometimes Blackmail IS The Answer
CALEB
The Coastal Conservation Gala transforms the university's largest room into a winter wonderland. Ice sculptures glisten under strategic lighting, crystal decorations catch and refract the light, and student volunteers weave through the crowd with trays of champagne.
Everyone who matters in San Clemente is here tonight: university alumni, major donors, charity representatives, and my father.
I fix my tie as I look around. The Delta Psi Omega guys seem right at home in their waiter roles. Drew's talking with the university president by the podium, likely going over tonight's schedule.
Gavin's bouncing around the room with his usual energy, pushing guests to check out the charity donation stations. In the back, a few Sigma Delta Tau guys, our friendly neighbours, are chatting with guests.
And then there are the Epsilon Beta Mu asshats, looking uncomfortable in their formal wear as they cluster near one of the bars.
Their president catches my eye and directs a curt nod at me.
At least they showed up; everyone understands the importance of supporting university partnerships, even if they'd rather not associate with "the gay frat. "
My father stands in the center of a small crowd, laughing at something the Dean of Business said. He looks perfectly at ease in his tailored suit, his campaign smile firmly in place. He hasn't noticed me yet, which gives me a few more minutes to prepare.
"Quite the turnout," Marcus says, appearing at my side with a glass of sparkling water. The Rainbow Haven House manager looks slightly uncomfortable in his suit, but the colourful socks peeking out below his pant legs make me smile.
"Better than we hoped. How are you feeling?"
"Nervous," Marcus admits. "I've never spoken to a crowd this wealthy before. But hey, if it helps the kids, I'll tap dance on that stage if I have to."
"I promise it won't come to that. Tell them the truth about Rainbow Haven. The rest will take care of itself."
Marcus nods, then lowers his voice. "James is here, by the way. Over by our table."
Following his gaze, I see James is in a suit I recognize. He looks fantastic in it. Uncomfortable, yeah, but in that way that works. Damn, he’s gorgeous.
He's speaking with two older women, who nod in agreement to whatever he says. Our eyes meet briefly across the room before he looks away, returning his attention to his conversation.
Focus, Caleb, one confrontation at a time. My heart does a painful little skip.
The university president taps the microphone, and conversations around the ballroom gradually quiet. I half-listen to his welcome speech about community partnerships and the university's commitment to "sending graduates into the world prepared to make meaningful change."
It's the kind of vague, inspirational rhetoric that plays well at these events but says very little. As applause fills the room, I make my move. My father has positioned himself near the front, clearly visible to everyone who matters. I slide up beside him during the ovation.
The clapping provides the cover I need. "We need to talk. Now."
He barely glances at me. "Not now, son. The Mayor wants to introduce me to—"
"Either we talk privately, or I make a scene you won't recover from before the primary."
"You wouldn't." His campaign smile flickers for a second.
"Try me."
After a tense moment, he nods stiffly. "Five minutes. No more."
He follows me into the hallway, past three doors, four… Finally, an empty meeting room. The door clicks shut and his friendly mask drops, as if it had never been there.
"This had better be important, Caleb. I have donors to speak with."
"It's important." Each word is carefully measured. "I know what you did."
He sighs impatiently. "You'll have to be more specific."
"I know you manipulated that recording to make it sound like James agreed to take your money to break up with me.
" I remove my phone from my pocket and open the folder with the evidence I've compiled.
"I have the original recording. I have the editing history, and I have the transfer of funds to your tech guy's account. "
His expression doesn't change, but his eyes narrow slightly. "You're overreacting to a misunderstanding."
"No, not a misunderstanding." I swipe to another file.
"I also have records of your campaign's creative approaches to disclosure.
The property in San Diego that conveniently stays off your public financial statements.
Those 'consulting fees' paid to Uncle Richard for services no one can quite define. Should I continue?"
Now I have his attention. His face hardens. "Be very careful, son. You're treading on dangerous ground."
"No." My voice is gaining strength. "You're the one who needs to be careful.
You're not manipulating me anymore. You're not making my high school girlfriend break up with me because she wasn't from the 'right family.
' You're not pushing me into law because it fits your narrative.
You interfered with my relationship, you lied to me, and you tried to bribe the man I love. "
"I was protecting you," he snaps. "That boy is nothing but a gold-digger. No family, no connections—"
"James turned down seventy-five thousand dollars to stay with me." His face is turning red when I interrupt. "When was the last time any of your political friends showed that kind of integrity?"
My father scoffs. "Integrity doesn't build a career, Caleb. Someday you'll understand—"
"I understand plenty. I understand you're so obsessed with appearances and power that you can't see what matters. I understand that you view relationships as transactions. And I understand that I don't want to live that way."
"What exactly do you want from me?" he asks, his tone calculating now. "Money? Your own campaign fund? A position in my administration when I win?"
Laughing, I'm genuinely amused by how completely he misunderstands me.
"I want you to stay out of my personal life.
Completely. No interference, no 'helpful suggestions,' no background checks on the people I care about.
I want to bring James to family events without Mom making passive-aggressive comments or Thomas and Robert treating him like he's invisible. "
"And if I refuse this...ultimatum?"
Holding up my phone. "Then everything I have goes public.
I'll find your strongest opponent in the primary and throw my full support behind them.
I'll give interviews about growing up as the gay son of Caleb Huntington II, and how you tried to bribe my boyfriend to leave me.
" Stepping closer, invading the hell out of his personal space.
"You might still win the primary, but it'll cost you more than you're willing to pay. "
"You wouldn't dare." The color drains from his face.
"Try. Me."
We stare at each other for a long moment. I can almost see the calculations running behind his eyes, the cost-benefit analysis of fighting me versus acquiescing.
"Fine," he finally says. "I'll back off. But you're making a mistake with that boy."
"His name is James." It's actually fun to correct him.
"And my only mistake was believing you instead of him.
" As I move toward the door, I stop. "Oh, and tell Thomas and Robert to stop being such stuck-up assholes.
I'm in love with James, and if he takes me back, he's the type who could probably sign them up for some interesting fringe porn subscriptions if they don't learn some manners. "
Something that might almost be respect flickers in my father's eyes. "Are you sure you won't reconsider politics? With killer instincts like these, you could go far."
"I'm sure. Turns out I'd rather make the world better in ways that don't require selling my soul."
I leave him standing with his mouth half-open. As the door closes, I do catch a glimpse of his face, still angry, but also strangely thoughtful. For the first time, I've stood up to Caleb Huntington II and won.
It feels better than I expected it would.
By the time I return to the ballroom, the individual charity presentations have begun. A representative from the coastal cleanup initiative is wrapping up her pitch, and Marcus is fidgeting at the side of the stage, clearly nervous about his turn.
Looking around the room, I search for James.
Bingo. He's standing near the back now, arms crossed, listening intently to the presentations.
Our eyes meet again, and this time, he doesn't immediately look away.
I try to communicate everything I feel through that look: regret, hope, and determination.
The university president returns to the podium.
"Next, we're pleased to hear from Marcus Rodriguez, manager of Rainbow Haven House, a shelter for LGBTQ+ youth in our community who have nowhere else to turn.
Rainbow Haven House has been a university partner for the past eight years, providing educational support and college readiness programs."
Marcus takes the stage, adjusting the microphone with slightly shaking hands.
But once he begins speaking, his nervousness fades.
He tells the story of Rainbow Haven, how it was founded by a mother who lost her son to suicide after he was bullied for being gay, and how it provides not shelter but community for kids who have been rejected by their families.
He shares success stories of residents who have gone on to university and careers, his voice breaking slightly when he mentions that some are in this room tonight.
James's expression stays neutral, but tension radiates from his shoulders. His jaw works as Marcus speaks. He doesn't like being reminded of his past, not because he's ashamed, but because he's always looking forward, always planning the next step. I know that now, in a way I didn't before.