He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. When I ran for commissioner right out of grad school, I was myself. Heckled reporters when they said something misleading. Called out other politicians when they lied through their teeth. Told my donors when they were being unreasonable. And it worked—it got me elected and saw me through all four years. But that was a small race compared to this. When I started campaigning for governor, the Dem establishment told me they’d pull their support if I didn’t behave and stop calling out their old-timers. And we needed their money, so here I am.” He nodded toward the senator he’d waved at. “Muzzled and making nice with dinosaurs whose voting records make me want to pull my hair out.”
Huh. So, the world hadn’t wanted Logan the way he came, either. He had to work at being appealing, just like me.
He frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“It’s just nice to know I’m not alone. You seemed so self-possessed at our press conference while I was having a heart attack.”
“That was your heart attack face? I assumed it was your dear-God-I’ve-made-a-huge-mistake-tying-myself-to-this-clown face.”
“And here’s your wine, Mr. Arthur, compliments of our sommelier.” Out of nowhere, Logan’s favorite waiter materialized at his elbow.
“For fuck’s sake,” Logan said, as we both jumped. “Stealth of a cheetah.”
“Apex thanks you for dining with us.” The waiter uncorked and started pouring, unruffled.
Logan eyed the bottle, which looked old and dusty. “Okay, I’m not going to say there aren’t perks to the peacock parade. But somehow, it just pisses me off more.” When the waiter left, he raised his glass. “May this give us gout, as we deserve.”
I gave him a look.
“Fine. Here’s to you and me, playing the game so well they let us in. To tear the whole thing apart from the inside.”
I clinked his glass, but inside I was thinking,Yes, of course.I was a chess move to Logan. Another strategic decision he had to endure because Nora said it would bring him closer to winning. Why did I keep forgetting that? It was frustrating how much being around him felt like sitting in class after pulling an all-nighter, having to constantly resist the pull of my body to relax and sink under the spell of dreaming. My instincts said to sink into Logan and forget reality. It felt so easy and natural talking to him that I had to keep jerking myself awake to the fact that it was only part of a game.
“Here’s to Trojan-horsing Texas,” I said softly, taking a sip, and his grin turned devilish behind his wineglass. “So.” I set my wine down. “Howdidyou grow up? I mean, I know you’re from Odejo.”
He tapped his glass. “The talking points are that I grew up on a farm as an only child. My parents were small-time farmers who moved to Texas from the UK because they had this dream of the little red American farmhouse. The reality behind the talking points is that we were alarmingly poor and constantly struggling. Neither of my parents realized how hard it would be to be a mom-and-pop farm here. No matter what they did, they couldn’t compete with Big Ag, never mind how green a thumb my mum has.”
“Is that what gave you your political ambitions—watching them struggle?”
“Fuck yeah it was. That and a million other things. Some of my best friends growing up, their families worked for the big corporate farms around Odejo, and they got paid pennies. Never had job security or health care, always had to move around to find the next job, which meant my friends had to keep switching schools and fell behind. Meanwhile the people they worked for raked it in.”
“Have you decided on your dinner choices?” the waiter asked, materializing once again like a ghost over Logan’s shoulder.
Logan squeezed the table so hard his knuckles turned white. “You,” he gritted out. “Didn’t even hear you...breathing. Not even a warning cough.”
“I highly recommend the prime rib,” said the waiter, and when I looked at the menu, I almost gagged. Ninety-five dollars. Even if I hadn’t just listened to Logan talk about how he’d grown up, I never would’ve considered it.
“I’ll have the ahi salad.” At thirty-two dollars, it was one of the cheapest items on the menu.
“The vegetable lasagna for me,” said Logan.
“Very well, sir.” The waiter swept our menus out of our hands and melted away.
“Are you a vegetarian?” Logan presented as the kind of man who might eat a cow raw with his bare hands if it pissed him off enough.
“I’ve seen how the sausage gets made,” he said. “Literally. And I want no part of that. Besides, it’s good for my blood pressure.”
Huh. Logan Arthur, full of surprises.
He took another sip of wine. “You came out of nowhere with that education pitch, by the way.”
“Sorry,” I said reflexively.
He shook his head. “Don’t be. I liked it. Nora was convinced you were going to ask for something frivolous, no offense to Beyoncé. I’m glad you care about policy. How’d you get into education?”
“I’ve always wanted to be a librarian.” I repressed a smile as Logan took it upon himself to pour me more wine. The earthy aroma of the liquid as it filled the glass made me wonder what it must’ve been like growing up on a farm. “I’ve been a book nerd all my life. Escaping into reading’s my happy place, so libraries were always safe, whenever school and other kids—” I cleared my throat. “I had great relationships with teachers growing up. I always knew I’d major in library science—”
“At UT, like your sister. And Mane,” he added with a pointed look, twisting the wine bottle away from my glass without spilling a drop. For someone who detested fancy restaurants, he sure was good at them.
