“That depends,” I said.
“On what?” she asked as I entered the shower behind her.
“Are you gonna catch it?”
* * *
“What are you ordering?” Kiyah whispered to me as I perused the menu and ignored her wandering hand under the table. We never got that nap because Kiyah was challenging to satiate. Whenever I thought she had enough, she was right back in the saddle.
“I’m thinking about ordering the Chilean seabass.”
“Chilean seabass,” she mocked under her breath.
“What’s wrong with the seabass?”
“Sounds like something Mom would order.”
“True, but I’ve been eating a lot of red meat lately, and I know we’ll be chowing down on steak tomorrow at the reception.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Good thinking. I think I’ll have the scallops and a salad.” I skimmed the menu a bit longer when a throat cleared. Daisy stood with her wine glass and prepared to give a speech that no one had asked for. Her mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear the words when my eyes landed onhimacross the restaurant. I wanted to believe my eyes were playing a trick on me, but it was clear as day. There he was—the Governor Hopeful, raising a glass to me.
I don’t think this is a coincidence, and it’s time for me and Mr. Branson to have a chat.
Chapter Twenty
Thaddeus
I nursed my whiskey as I scrolled through the funeral home’s casket selections. The warmth from the spirit and my impending freedom blanketed me. It felt… luxurious. As if I were slipping into a steamy bubble bath after a stressful week of cutthroat politics of back-office deals, verbal gentlemen’s agreements, I’ll scratch your back if you scratch my back favors, and lies and deceit. It was true; politics wasn’t for the faint of heart, but it was where I flourished because it was a breeding ground for what I liked to call “the functionally insane.”
Politics was one of the only sectors where the public wholeheartedly knew they were being lied to but didn’t seem to mind. It was the only safe space where the villain of the story was championed as the hero. It was titillating to see my constituents and eager voters fall over themselves for me and profess to all who would listen that I would improve their lives. Many suggested I was just what the country needed and that I’d make a fantastic president one day.
That’s the goal, but little do the voters know that I’ll step on their necks, backs, and legs to achieve it.
I paused scrolling when I found the perfect casket.
A cream satin interior with a high-gloss cherry-red exterior will complement her well.
I hummed to myself as I continued my research, trying not to check my watch for the umpteenth time. My attempts were futile because I’d never been known to be a patient man. I frowned when I noticed it was ten minutes past the long-awaited party’s reservation time. Tardiness was a pet peeve of mine, and it irked me how insensitive people could be when they inconvenienced others, only to offer a perfunctory apology and a lame excuse for their lack of proper planning.
To be fair, it is a bachelorette party. Sometimes, those parties get out of hand and tend to operate on their own time.
I scowled at the incoming call from my son’s nanny. Harper was as useless as an empty fire hydrant during a five-alarm fire, and she perpetually annoyed me with her babbling and inability to think for herself.
I’ve said, “Bless your heart,” more than I can count when dealing with her.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Branson, I’m sorry to disturb your evening, but Pete has been inconsolable for the last hour.”
“And what are you doing about it?”
“Um…I’ve given him a warm bath, held him, and read to him.”
“Is he running a fever? Does he seem to be in pain?”
“No to both.”
“What do you want me to do about it, Harper?” The line fell silent for several seconds. “Am I to drop everything I’m doing to return home to soothe a child? Or are you supposed to do what I fucking pay you to do?”