Owen shakes with him, too. “Sir.”
Benchley nods.
“And this is Momma,” Susa says. “Momma, Carter, and Owen.”
I smile and turn on the charm. “Ma’am.” I kiss her hand, and Owen follows suit.
She smiles, delighted. “You boys can call me Michelle.”
Benchley gave his daughter his blue eyes and his brass balls. “SusieJo talks an awful lot about you two boys,” he says. “I hear you’re all roommates, now, huh?” He chuckles. “Sponging off my daughter, are you?” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.
As Susa rejoins me and Owen, standing between us, I see Benchley’s gaze focus on her left hand, then mine, on the rings we wear, and storm clouds quickly build in his eyes.
Busted.
That’s fine. I wanted to do this sooner rather than later, anyway.
“Actually, I pay my own way,” I say. “Between my disability pension and my scholarships. The truth is, Owen’sourroommate.” I drape my arm around Susa’s shoulders. “We’re married.”
Ooooh, here we go.
Michelle frowns, obviously confused. “What—”
“WHAT?” Benchley thunders.
I’ll give Susa all due credit. Owen is darn near cowering behind us now, but Susa straightens even as she presses herself against my side. “I’m registered as an Independent now, too. I’ve left the GOP.”
It takes every ounce of will I have not to burst out laughing.
My girl is wicked smart. She just derailed her father’s brain for a moment. Benchley stands there,literallywith his mouth gaping open as he stares at her.
I couldn’t be more proud of her in this moment if I tried.
Michelle finally finds her voice. “What do youmeanyou’remarried?” her words bear a shrill, sharp edge.
“What do youmeanyouleftthe GOP?” Benchley demands. “Youcan’tdo that!”
Michelle wheels on her husband and actually stomps her foot. “Benchley! Will youpleasefocus? She fuckingmarriedhim!”
Susa gasps. I’ve gathered from what she’s told me about her parents that her mother, a retired college professor, wouldn’t sayshitif she had a mouthful of it. Susa got her mouth from her father, in addition to her cunning, political savvy, and cut-throat instincts. Her mom, however, is usually gentle, soft-spoken.
That her mother’s dropped an F-bomb likely means she’s the more dangerous of the two, at this moment.
“Whendid thishappen?” Michelle demands.
“The weekend before I came up for the fundraiser,” Susa admits. “We took Owen to Las Vegas to reunite with his father, and we did it there.”
Her mom takes a step forward, but Benchley’s hand shoots out and catches her arm. If the woman wants to take a shot at me—eh, with her fists—I’ll stand there and take it like a man.
But I’m sure Benchley’s mind is thinking that a) he’d rather be the one hitting me, and b) how horrible a 911 call to their house and Michelle being arrested for battery would look in the papers when he’s eyeing his own run for governor, and beyond.
Benchley looks at Owen, then me. “You two—out. We want to talk to our daughter.Alone.”
“No, Daddy,” Susa says, stepping forward, her hands on her hips. “This happens with all of us, or none of us. Owen’s our friend, and Carter’s my husband. I don’t need to explain my rationale to you.”
“Oh, yeah, you kind of do, Susannah Joleen!” he roars.
Damn. I watch as she crosses her arms over her chest, a slow, sly smile filling her face, and I realizethisis the future attorney, the future politician.
