“Why is your dad pushing so hard to get this Bradshaw Bill passed?” I ask. “I haven’t seen him push this hard for something since his first election campaign.”
Connor frowns, probably because answering my question means he’s stuck in my presence for a few more minutes. “Dad has friends who are interested in this bill passing.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.” Connor rubs his fingers together like there are invisible dollar bills between them. “Friends with deep pockets and good lawyers who know how to make favors happen. The only difference between back scratching andback-stabbing is how much you’re willing to pay for something to get done.”
“Okay, Brutus. So, your dad’s getting a payday if he can get this bill passed?”
“Your dad, too. They need each other to help pass it. And your dad needs mine to make sure it’s pushed through before his re-election. Your dad doesn’t have months to wait with the election ramping up. No way would the other party’s nominee sign the bill. She’d veto it on day one in office.”
So, Guy was right. Dad does have something to gain financially if this bill passes. Even though I’m not surprised, something cloudy overcasts my mood at the thought of Dad hurting so many people with the swipe of a pen.
“The bill still needs to get through the Senate, though,” I say with a glimmer of hope that maybe it won’t. The House of Representatives needs to vote on it, so there’s still time for it to die on the Congress floor.
“That’s where your boss comes in,” Connor says. “Furt is your dad’s whip. He practically guaranteed it’ll pass in the House. He’s going to push it through the Committee, then get the Senate in line to vote for it before the election.”
“Do you even know what’s in the bill?”
Connor shrugs. “Who cares? Dad and his friends need it. Hell, the President needs it. Healthcare’s already shit. Like anyone’s going to notice if it gets worse.”
“Spoken like a nepo-baby lawyer, Connor.”
Connor’s frown deepens at my disapproval. “Says the nepo-baby congressional aid.”
Having to get the last word in, Connor strides to the front door. “See you at the party, Daph.”
As Connor leaves, my stomach lurches at the reminder of the gender-slash-murder party happening in a week.How the hell am I supposed to work knowing that something horrible is going to happen?
Grabbing my phone, I plug it into my charger and toss my purse onto the couch. Then check the card still in my hand.
For Mike Tyson. – A.G.F.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TRISTAN
Tristan
I don’t know if I need to state the obvious, but leave this phone off and hidden. Don’t ever take it out of your house.
Daphne
I can’t do this.
Tristan
You have to do this, Princess.
Daphne
Stop calling me Princess!
Tristan
If the crown fits, wear it
Daphne
