Cain could recall a time when pretending hadn’t been this difficult. He was a Shaw, for God’s sake. Pretending was probably in hisblood,or if not, it was definitely something he’d learned from the cradle. When his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Lafferty, had asked what he wanted to dress up as for Halloween, he’d known better than to say “princess,” no matter how amazingly sparkly the costumes had been. Later, when all the other guys talked incessantly about sports, he’d been careful to memorize all the crucial stats for all the Boston teams, so no one would guess he was more interested in the hot players than the games.
And when his father had run for office years before, Cain had stood on the platform behind him and faked agreement with every homophobic thing the man had said, all the while trying not to pop a boner because the celebrity donor standing next to him was so fucking hot. (Rule number one: Getting wood for Adam Baldwin was not acceptable when you were the son of a man with serious political ambitions who was trying to woo the ultra-conservative Family Ethics Group, no matter how amazing Adam had been onFirefly.)
He’d accepted all the pretense -hatedit, but accepted it - because as annoying and controlling as his father was, as much as they’d disagreed on all things political, as much as he’d blamed the man for all the shit that had gone down with Jesse back in high school, he’dlovedhis father. He’d known without a doubt that his father was agood man.
JesusGod, Cain had been so criminally naive about everything concerning Senator Shaw, he wanted to go back in time and slap himself.
“For God’s sake, Cain, lookhappy,” Lucy Shaw hissed in his ear, her own brilliant smile not dimming one iota. “Remember who you are. Remember why you’re here!”
Oh, he remembered why he was here alright; he was unlikely to ever fucking forget. But he couldn’t imagine how his mother felt that it was any reason to smile.
The photographer gave Cain a thumbs-up and moved on to taking fake-candid shots of the senator with his donors. Cain scanned the room, looking for a familiar face or preferably an empty corner he could escape to. He didn’t expect any of his old Boston friends to be here tonight - he hadn’t exactly been a popular kid in high school, and he’d hardly kept in touch with them, especially after what happened to Jesse. His college acquaintances were all near his parents’ new house in Tennessee. And his other childhood friends - Sebastian and Camden Seaver, and Drew McMann - weren’t likely to attend any event hosted by Senator Emmett Shaw.
They knew the truth about him, too.
Cain’s eyes passed over a hundred curious faces, all watching his family with some combination of awe and respect, but his gaze snagged on one man who stared at him way more intently than the average Shaw supporter, and smiled like he could guess Cain’s secrets.
Cain’s pulse kicked up.
The guy was completely nondescript - average height, build, and face, light brown hair, skin, and eyes - the kind of man who’d be impossible to pick out of a lineup, if it weren’t for the determined, knowing way he met Cain’s gaze.
Cain didn’t allow his eyes to linger, but he moved to stand behind his sister. Arcadia Shaw prided herself on knowing everyone worth knowing, and she’d sure as hell know everyone on tonight’s guest list.
“Who’s that guy at your two-o’clock?” he asked. “Pink shirt, brown hair.”
Cady turned her head just past two o’clock to nod benevolently at a tall woman in red, then turned back to Cain excitedly. “That’s Gary North!”
“He’s here?”
“Were you evenlisteningwhen I explained this to you earlier?” she demanded. “He’s doing a whole series of articles on Daddy. It’s going to be excellent publicity.”
Cain did another casual room-sweep with his eyes. Gary still watched him, and Cain didn’t like it. Gary looked like the kind of guy who’d happily exploit his secrets. Cain forced himself not to dwell on the thousands of worst-case scenarios running through his head.
“Senator Shaw, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to see you up here campaigning for Ed Burke!” Cain refocused his attention on the pink, balding man who was apparently trying to wrench the senator’s arm from its socket with the force of his handshake. “Next best thing to luring you back to Boston yourself. What we need here in Massachusetts is a strong, conservative voice. We’ve been without one for too long!”
Emmett Shaw’s immaculately-groomed sandy-blond hair gleamed in the light from the chandelier, and his avid blue eyes, two shades lighter than Cain’s own, locked on the pink man with what Cain knew would be the force of a laser.
God help the man who defied those eyes.Lord knew, Cain rarely managed it.
“I couldn’t agree more, Mister?” his father said, with an upward inflection at the end of the sentence that invited the man to give his name… along with his credit card number and ATM pin.
The pink man, thrilled to have caught the attention oftheSenator Emmett Shaw and not realizing that he’d just walked himself into a trap, provided it eagerly. “Bill, er,William. William Fassbender. Of Fassbender and Sons Auto. The largest importer of luxury vehicles in the Northeast. You might have heard of us?”
Oh, Bill. Bill, Bill, Bill. You poor sap, with your pride and your luxury vehicles. You just sold your soul.
Cain held his breath and watched the ensuing carnage with something like sympathy. Bill, who had likely never been called William except by his mother, but had decided his full name made him sound more distinguished, was quick to agree that liberal immorality was the cause of so much suffering in the world today, and that every American had a duty to put a stop to it. Would William be willing to stand up and do what so many men were too weak to do?
Why, of course he would! Gladly! Did Senator Shaw need money? A house? Akidney? Coming right up! Anything fortheSenator Shaw, with his perfect hair, charming manners, spotless record, and incredibly,unbelievablywholesome family!
Emmett wrapped an arm around Bill’s shoulders and turned him toward his assistant, Darla, who would be happy to take down details and welcome him into the cabal.
Cain looked away. At a certain point, he couldn’t stand to watch the bloodbath anymore. Beneath the sleeve of his tailored charcoal suit and blue dress shirt, Cain could swear he felt his tattoo - the forbidden, secret ink he’d gotten in a Fireball-induced rebellion months ago and had hidden zealously ever since - pulse hotly against his skin like a caged creature trying to break free.
Not long ago - a mere three months, though it seemed like it had been in another lifetime - it wouldn’t have been Darla standing at the senator’s side, but Jack Peabody.
Jack, Senator Shaw’s most trusted right-hand-man.
Jack, the man who’d committed murder at the senator’s behest, tampering with the engine of Levi Seaver’s private plane and setting up Damon Fitzpatrick to take the fall for the crash.
