Chapter 27 #2
Rubbing my temples, I consider refilling my glass with liquor. It would absolutely dull the pain, but it would also mute my ability to think, to process, to plan, and that’s nearly all I have on my side right now. I need to figure a way out of this.
“She’s effectively not talking to me right now,” I say, the words tasting as bitter as I expect them to.
“A part of me feels like I need to act, to do something to make this better. It’s what I do.
There’s a problem, I fix it. But you know, maybe this life I lead isn’t what’s best for her.
I mean, fuck, Linc. My own people put out that article. ”
He chuckles under his breath. “The life you lead isn’t the problem, brother. It’s your quote-unquote ‘own people’ that are the issue. I’m not even going to start into a big lecture here on how much I hate Nolan and all the reasons I think he’s poison to you.”
“You’re just mad he told dad you’re the one that wrecked my BMW back in the day,” I grin.
“Yeah because that shows his lack of loyalty! It was none of his fucking business. You and I had it worked out. It would’ve been fixed and that would’ve been the end of it. The cocksucker overhears us talking and snitches like the asshole he is.”
Sighing, I stand and walk over to the island where I left the bottle of bourbon. I pour a little into my glass and swirl it around while I consider Lincoln’s words.
“I’m days from this election. If I weren’t, I would’ve fired him today.”
“You should’ve fired him today.”
I groan. “We’ve been working on this campaign for years, Linc. There are so many people’s jobs riding on the line.” Sighing, I slump against the counter. “I was reading him the riot act today, and Dad shoved me out of the room and told me to calm down.”
Taking another swig of the liquor, I feel the burn as it trickles down my throat.
“If I fire him now, my chances of losing this election triple. Maybe quadruple. So much time and money have been spent that I can’t just blow it now because I’m pissed off.
Those people have families to feed, bills to pay. That’s not fair to anyone.”
“It’s fair to you. You gotta stand up for yourself, man.”
“I did,” I sigh. “I’ve done everything I can.”
“Welp,” Lincoln says, “if that’s the case, have you done everything you can to tell Ali that?”
“Ali? You’re on a nickname basis with my girl now?”
“Hey, she likes me. Probably better than you right now!”
“Go to hell.” A pang of jealousy that their relationship is so easy taps my heart.
The line grows quiet, both of us trying to get some kind of game plan together. The problem is that neither of us plan as well as Graham, and this isn’t something I can plan with my logical brother. I’m closest to Graham, but when you need someone to plan shenanigans, you have to go to Linc.
“You know, I’ve never understood why you like politics,” Lincoln says.
“I’m not sure why I do right now either.”
“Is it what you want to do? Do you want this life, worrying about what everyone says about you, picking you apart, going after your girl?”
Sitting back at the table again, I think about how many times I’ve asked myself that very question over the last few days.
“It’s the only thing I ever considered doing,” I point out.
“Because Dad pushed you.”
“Not just that,” I say. “I’ve always felt like this is what I’m supposed to do.
And I’ve enjoyed it for the most part. You can do a lot of good things with the power it gives you.
It’s constantly moving, changing. You can’t stand still or you get lost in the shuffle.
And, before the last couple of months, I’ve had all the women and parties and opportunities I could ever want. ”
“That’s all fine and dandy, but everything you’ve said has been past tense.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”
“So ... why not drop out? Change courses. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to try to save the world or give up your life and subject yourself to this craziness.”
“I’ve considered it.” My fingertips strum the table, lost in thought. “You know, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if Dad hadn’t bought me the mayoral election.”
“Barrett, don’t even fucking go there. You won that thing on your own.”
“Did I, Linc?” I ask. “I remember going to the debates, answering the questions at the interviews, and not really having a fucking clue what they were talking about. I said what I was supposed to say, smiled, and boom—I’m the mayor. Did you ever think about that?”
He groans into the phone. “You’re just being stupid now.”
I laugh, feeling like a weight is off my shoulders. “No, maybe I’m just being honest.”
“If that’s the case, maybe you shouldn’t be in politics to start with.”
“Maybe not. But I am and I can’t back out now.”
“You also can’t risk losing her either, Barrett. I’ve never seen you happier than you have been lately. You’re so normal when you’re with her, almost like one of the guys I play ball with.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He laughs. “I’m serious. You’re usually a stick in the mud, off burying your cock in some chick or huddled in a corner with Graham. You’re actually kind of fun now.”
Taking a swig of my drink, I feel it burn as it goes down. “I don’t feel very fun right now.”
“You’re at the plate with a full count. You have to step to the plate ready to swing, Barrett.”
“Baseball analogies? Really?”
“Listen to me. Be ready to swing. Don’t let the third strike pass the plate. Because when that happens, you go to the dugout. Alone. And that’s a cold and lonely place.”