I wrap my arm around her shoulder.“That would be great.I haven’t let myself take a vacation for a long time.I’ve been married to the shop for so long.I’m not sure I know how to relax and unwind.”
She traces a line over my chest.“I’m sure you’ll think ofsomething.”
“If I think hard enough.”I get to my feet.“Should we get back to your place?Get you cleaned up?And then”—I lift my eyebrows—“dirty again?”
She smiles.“I’d be amenable to that.”
I lock the door to my place—I’m just realizing this is the first time I’ve brought Alissa to my actual apartment; I’ll make sure to give her a proper tour next time—and we get back in the Rolls.I’m about to put the key in the ignition when a crack of thunder shakes the entire car, rattling me and Alissa both.
“Shit.That was loud.”I look out the window.“The storm seems to be getting closer.”
Alissa nods, her eyes wide.
The rain is coming down more heavily now.My car window is dotted with raindrops.Some of them are stagnant, and some are running down, collecting smaller drops as gravity pulls them to earth.Some of them curve as they make their way down, and some go straight.
And some…
Wait a minute.
* * *
I hate campaigning season.
It seems to get longer every time Dad does it.
Mom and I, his smiling, picture-perfect family, have to attend every event with him.
He’s going for his third term as mayor of Chicago.He’s going to win—the polls aren’t even close.I don’t even understand why we have to go to so many events.
And the weather is terrible today.It’s a big storm.
I’ve got homework I could be doing.I’ve just started high school, which Dad loves to remind me is the first year that grades actually matter.Colleges will be looking over my transcripts.
Like it freaking matters.My name alone will get me into Yale, no question.I’m a legacy, and Dad will pull whatever strings he must to get me on the top of the admissions list.Study political science, just like he did.Go into politics, just like he did.
Just like my grandfather did.And my uncles and aunts.Nearly every Hathaway has served in an elected office since time began.
Everyone except for my great-uncle.Stephen Hathaway, who ran a haberdashery in Uptown.
Uncle Stephen was the black sheep of the family.He was gay during a time when he couldn’t be open about it.Certainly not when your family was rubbing elbows with the Washington elites.He died when I was six years old, but I remember him being a lot of fun at family functions.He was never allowed to bring his partner, so he ended up spending most of his time playing board games with the kids.He loved Clue especially, and he would always make a big spectacle of it whenever he was making an accusation.
He would grab a blanket and pretend it was a Victorian cloak, flourishing it back and forth as he declared, “It was Colonel Mustard…in the ballroom…with…the candlestick!”
Then he’d pretend to throw a tantrum in the corner when it was revealed that his accusation was completely incorrect.Pounding fists on the floor and everything.
Dad would see it and roll his eyes, but my cousins and I loved it.
Until Uncle Stephen got sick.AIDS.Within a year he was gone.It was a blessing, to be honest.He really wasted away the last few months of his life.
Dad kept it all hushed up.After all, he had his eyes on the mayorship.The old mayor’s popularity had taken a dive, and it was time to pounce.He actually announced his candidacy the day after Uncle Stephen’s funeral.To take advantage of the sympathy vote.
What a crock of shit.
Then the worst possible thing happened.He won the damned election.
Then he won a second term.
Now Mom and I have to spend every weekend waving American flags with smiles pasted on our faces, rain or shine.
