“Oh, will he?” I scoff. “Do you think the American public wants more of their healthcare stripped away? It’s going to stop anyone with pre-existing conditions from getting affordable care.”
“They’re too stupid to notice,” Dad huffs. “They think that because the bill offers lower premiums and increases funding for public healthcare, it’s going to benefit them. Americans are stupid when it comes to laws.”
Something inside me prickles, and Tristan pops into my mind. He’s not stupid. Hell, he knew more about this bill than I did, which was fucking embarrassing. I’m sure others know about it too, and the press will be all over this once recognition grows. Dad might be popular, but people won’t defend him once they learn this bill costs them more for healthcare.
“People are smarter than you give them credit for.”
Dad’s sarcastic laugh bursts like a gunshot through the room. “Honey, leave the politics to the President. You’re going to meet with Brent.”
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “I’m done. I’m not helping you with this bill. I’ll help with whatever else you want, but not with this.”
Dad glowers at me.
“Paige would have helped him,” Mom’s soft voice flutters through the air.
“Right. And I’m sure Paige wouldn’t have gotten herself raped, right?” The biting sarcasm in my voice mingles with the pain of knowing my parents don’t care. They blame me for what happened that night.
“You’re right. She would have been smart enough not to put herself in a situation like that.” Mom’s voice stings like venom with each word.
“So, you admit I was raped?” The words come out softer than they feel as Mom’s eyes widen.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. I swear, only the good die young.”
“Well, at least you two will live to be a hundred.” I push my chair back and stand.
“Get back here, young lady,” Dad snaps, but doesn’t bother to stand and follow me as I slip out of the dining room and through the East Wing to leave.
Fuck him. Fuck her. Fuck them all. Tristan can have at them for all I care.
Earl, my personal driver, pulls the car around to the front and gives me a wary smile that’s bright, even in the White House lights. “Are you alright, Miss Daphne?” he asks as he opens the door for me.
“I never am after leaving this place, Mister Earl.” Earl’striple my age. That fancy private school always taught me to address elders with some respect, and at least that’s a habit that stuck with me. “How’s Darlene?” I ask as he pulls away from the ninth circle of hell and into the norms of the rest of the world, the car slipping into the flow of traffic. Ah, traffic—the great equalizer.
Earl’s smile softens in the rearview mirror at the mention of his wife’s name. “She’s doing well. She had chemo yesterday, but she had an appetite when I left for work.”
“That’s good.” My starchy smile stiffens as my stomach churns.Would Earl and Darlene be affected by Dad’s bill?Darlene runs a daycare center in one of the rougher neighborhoods, and Earl has worked in the White House for over thirty years. I know Dad tips the staff well for Christmas, but what about the other three-hundred-and-sixty-four days?
It’s a short drive back to my place, and Earl pulls to a complete stop in my driveway. “Have a good evening.” Earl nods as I thank him and shut my door before he pulls away.
My mind’s whirring as I fumble in my purse for my keys. Seriously, how did I not know what was happening right under my nose? How was I so caught up in my own bubble that I didn’t even think of reading the damn bill Senator Furt was trying to whip votes for?
How much damage have I done? What if this gets passed because of some meeting I set up or some conversation I’d had with the wrong person at the wrong time? What if I’m in some way responsible for sweet people like Earl and Darlene losing their insurance?
“Fuck!” I shout into the open air, probably drawing the attention of the local homeowner association members. Fuck them. And fuck HOAs.
Two boxes sit on my front porch—an Amazon package and an unmarked brown box I don’t recognize. Picking them up, I unlock the door and nudge it open wider with my hip as I step inside while balancing the boxes in one hand.
Hawkeye bounds over to greet me, his tiny nails tapping along the floor as I shut the door and set down the boxes to scratch his head. “Hello, baby. Did you miss me?”
Hawkeye licks my hand, and his fluffy tail wags.
“I missed you, too.”
Balancing in my heels, I ease myself onto the floor until I’m cross-legged. Hawkeye launches himself into my lap, trying to lick my face.
He settles down as I grab the first box. Slipping my house key under the tape, I slide it across and drop it back into my purse before Hawkeye tries to bite my heart-shaped American flag keychain—a Christmas gift from Dad.
Hawkeye’s still trying to lick my chin, but when I stop moving, his enthusiasm dampens, and he steps down off my lap with a whine.
