God help us all.
Chapter 17
Red, White, and Bullshite
CALEB
My father's campaign events always reek of money, power, and insecurity, all covered with a thin veneer of perfume and cologne that costs more per ounce than some people's monthly rent. Tonight is no exception.
The Port Chester Hotel's grand ballroom has been transformed into a shrine to my father's political ambitions. Red, white, and blue decorations adorn every surface, and giant posters featuring his carefully perfect smile loom over the crowd. STATE SENATOR HUNTINGTON: FAMILY VALUES, FISCAL RESPONSIBILITY proclaims the banner stretched across the main stage.
I adjust my tie for the tenth time since we arrived. "Remember, smile at the donors, but not too much. You don't want to look desperate."
"Is there a handbook for this stuff?" Gavin asks, looking around with undisguised fascination. "Like 'Political Fundraisers for Dummies'?"
"If not, I should've written it by now. I've been attending these since I was old enough to wear a suit without drooling on it."
James stands quietly beside me, taking everything in with those eyes that miss nothing. "Your father certainly can draw a crowd."
He's right. The room is packed with the usual suspects: wealthy donors in designer wear, local politicians hoping to advance their careers, and journalists circling like sharks. Everyone wants a piece of the next potential state senator.
"There's an open bar. Feel free to use it... Moderately."
"And the food?" Gavin asks hopefully.
"Circulating appetizers now, the buffet opens at eight." Scanning the crowd, I see potential allies and definite threats. "Let's try to?—"
"Caleb! There you are!"
Wincing at the shrill voice, we all turn to see my aunt Margaret bearing down on us, cocktail in hand, pearls gleaming at her throat. Behind her trail, my cousins Rebecca and Thomas, both wearing expressions of calculated interest.
"Aunt Margaret." I plaster on the smile that's passed for genuine at a hundred events like this. "How lovely to see you."
"Oh, these must be your...friends," she says, ignoring me completely, her gaze sliding from James to Gavin with curiosity. The slight pause before "friends" speaks volumes.
"This is my boyfriend, James Hunter." Her smile tightens, visible even through all that Botox. "And our fraternity brother, Gavin Robins."
"Charmed," Aunt Margaret says without sounding it. She turns to James. "So, you're the one we've been hearing about. In what field did you say your family made their fortune?"
James doesn't miss a beat. "I didn't say. But I work in digital communications and internet security."
"How...modern," she replies, clearly underwhelmed. "And your parents?"
"Not in the picture," James says simply.
An awkward silence falls, and Gavin, bless him, immediately fills it. "Those are some amazing pearls, ma'am. Are they heirlooms?"
Aunt Margaret's hand flies to her neck, instantly distracted. "Why, yes, they belonged to my grandmother. You have quite an eye for quality."
As Gavin charms my aunt with flattery, Rebecca sidles up to me.
"So this is the boyfriend," she says under her breath. "Not exactly Huntington standard, is he? What does Daddy think?"
Rebecca. Dad's sister-in-law, married into the family with exactly the right pedigree and an unlimited capacity for cruelty disguised as concern. We're not enemies; enemies would require actually caring about each other. She's just another Huntington playing the game, except she seems actually to enjoy it.
"I don't particularly care what Daddy thinks." My voice is cool. "James is brilliant, successful, and kind. Three qualities our family could use more of."
"Meow," Rebecca smirks. "The kitten has claws tonight."
