“Can we just get going?” I bark a little too aggressively which raises Woody’s other eyebrow. “We’re going to be late.”
Without another word, we lock up the farmhouse and pile into the car. Autumn gets behind the wheel while I climb into the passenger seat and Woody gets in the back. I clutch the door and grit my teeth to keep from lecturing her about her driving skills, or lack thereof, while Woody complains about the fact that we don’t have an electric car yet. Even though he knows we can’t afford one right now.
When we finally get to city hall, the parking lot is almost full. Autumn wedges the car into the last spot, with one hubcap grinding the curb as she does it. My tongue almost bleeds as I bite it to keep from bitching.
“I thought this was just the candidates and families,” Autumn says, suddenly fussing with her floral dress as we walk towards the entrance.
“I thought so too,” Woody replies but then we all notice the local television van and Autumn groans.
“I would have worn a nicer outfit if I thought there would be television people here,” she complains. “Something dark and slimming.”
“You look beautiful,” I promise her and grab her hand before she can raise it to her hair, which is in loose waves.
“TV adds ten pounds,” she whispers, and I pull her into my side.
“Who cares?” I reply. “You don’t. You’re my bad-ass, kick-ass, strong, body positive sister.”
She looks up and gives me a smile, but it’s not as confident as I wish it was. Autumn got teased a lot in middle school because of her weight. It took a lot of pep talks from our parents to keep her off the stupid diet trends that floated around in high school. And then Woody and I made a point of having her back after they died. She has grown into a really confident, happy woman and I refuse to let that slip away from her.
“He’s right,” Woody adds as we reach the door. “You look great, Autumn. And besides, I’ve already told them my family is off-limits. They can’t interview you or bother you. They’ll respect it because of the shit show they put us through with Mom and Dad.”
That shit show was every news outlet and print publication in town trying to turn their deaths into fodder for the locals. Because they were beloved members of the community, because they left behind young-ish kids, because Woody and I had to get legal guardianship of Autumn, who was still a minor, because the road they had their accident on had been a problem for years and still no one had fixed the bend that was too tight, especially when it was icy, and lacked a guard rail. Sure, we wanted farming zoning changed but we also wanted to make sure things like that dangerous road that played a part in our parents’ death didn’t get ignored in the future.
“Okay. Good.” Autumn sighs and reaches for the door handle to enter but pauses. “For the record, I would do interviews in florescent horizontal stripes if it gets you elected. All day, every day.”
“And you’d still look great,” I add as she opens the door, and we all step inside.
A security guard greets us, checks our identification, and leads us down the hall to the cocktail party, which is happening in a large conference room on the second floor. It’s a lovely room, with ornate wood paneling and an impressive chandelier in the center. The wide, tall windows that line the exterior wall looks out over City Hall Park. I can barely see the view though, because the room is packed with people.
This is so not the intimate affair that Woody thought it was. That the current mayor pretended it would be. Ugh. I am not in the mood to be around this many people. “I need a drink,” Autumn mutters.
“Me too,” I agree and turn to Woody. “You go shake hands and kiss babies or whatever. We’ll go get refreshments and blend into the background.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s disappointed and a stab of guilt pricks my heart. Woody is only doing this for the good of the farm and the city Mom and Dad raised us to love so much. I know he needs our support and I want to give it to him, I just… I’ve been a bitch since running into Chase at the bookstore. It felt so uncomfortable. And so did the band practice after that. I mean, the music went well, the other guys were in great moods and joking around. I smiled. I even laughed but… it felt off. And Chase was a little too quiet. So much so that Joe brought it up. But he just blew it off as having had a long day at work. We all stayed for beers afterward, but I barely finished mine before I made an excuse about needing to get back to the farm and left. Chase was holding the elevator open before I even got my jean jacket on.
And I haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t stopped by the bar, or emailed about anything, not even to see if the copy he helped us write for the website is working. I know we both said being friends would be easy, so why isn’t it? I mean, hell, I’ve had hook-ups before that didn’t amount to anything more and I’d been able to comfortably be around the guy afterward. I don’t hold it against Chase that he’s closeted, like I did to Trevor. Because Chase was honest about it from the get-go and has never asked me to be in the closet with him. So why do I feel like I’m holding a grudge? Why can’t I act normal?
There’re two bars set up in opposite corners of the room. Autumn and I both make our way to the one with the shortest line. I try to order three beers but Autumn talks over me and orders us three white wines instead. “It’s classier. We need to look classy,” she tells me. “Everyone here is classy. And beer makes Woody belch.”
Oh. Right. Yeah, Woody loves to burp, loudly, with a beer. At least he does at home. I doubt he’d do it here, but she’s right, we shouldn’t take the chance. The bartender gives us three glasses of wine and Autumn leans in and whispers, “I didn’t get red so if you spill it on yourself, or someone else, it won’t be that obvious.”
“Thanks.” I frown at her, but she just smiles.
“I’ll take Woody his glass,” she volunteers. “Don’t want to risk you dropping it, butter fingers.”
“Whatever.” I sigh and move my way through the crowd in the opposite direction. I feel more at ease sticking to the perimeter, so I wander toward the windows. Outside, the town looks peaceful and quiet. There’s one couple in the darkened park with their French bulldog and that’s it.
And then I hear his laugh. It’s a sound that, in a short time, has imprinted itself in my brain. I’d recognize it anywhere. My eyes drift across the room and I see Chase standing by the other bar. He’s talking to a tall, skinny guy in a suit that looks as expensive as his own. He is smiling, but I know Chase’s smile — his genuine one — and this is not it. He’s being polite. I watch him as he keeps talking to this dude and I realize how good he is at faking amusement and interest. I can’t imagine having to fake so much of my life. Shit, why does he do it? I’m exhausted just watching him.
He leans in as a woman walks over and gives him a friendly kiss on the cheek. She’s clearly the wife or date of the guy he’s talking to, as she slips an arm through his after greeting Chase. Chase is telling them something and they’re nodding. He moves his hands as he speaks, with his head up high and his shoulders back. He looks so poised and so at ease. He belongs here and he knows it. The woman starts laughing and motioning about something with her free hand and Chase smiles again, but his eyes lift a little, over her shoulder, and lock with mine.
That’s when that smile suddenly reaches his eyes, but only for a second. And then it falls off his face completely. He blinks and looks anywhere but at me, his head moving right, then left. I feel like I’m a party crasher instead of an invited guest and he’s looking for a security guard to escort me out. Well, you know what? Fuck him. Just like in the bookstore, I want to challenge him and his perfect demeanor. I start toward him, weaving my way through the crowd. His brilliant blue eyes widen just the slightest and the man, who is talking now, leans closer to Chase. I see Chase mouth the wordwhatbecause he’s no longer paying attention to the people he’s with.
And then, as I’m within a few feet and can hear their conversation, someone else joins them. Lacey Baldwin. She links her arm through Chase’s and tips her head up to him with a broad smile. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, you were busying dazzling everyone with your brilliant ideas for this fine city,” Chase replies with a wink. “I didn’t want to get in the way of that.”
Holy shit. He’s here with Lacey Baldwin. Like,withLacey Baldwin. I abruptly turn around and smack straight into someone’s back, my wine sloshing over the side of the glass and onto their corduroy jacket. Not just anyone’s jacket, but Woody’s. Fuck.
