Page 116 of Tips and Trysts

My jaw clenches and I can feel the anger moving through my veins in real time, coursing through me until the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Frankly, I wasn’t surprised by what I saw. I always knew you were a pathetic, half of a man. Degrading yourself. Getting on your knees for her. I don’t know how you ever thought you’d get elected to office with that lurking in your kompromat.”

“Fuck you.”

“Say whatever you want. Your opinion means next to nothing at this point.” He sighs and checks his watch. “My, this is taking a long time,” he murmurs. “Yes, by the way: I did leak the blackmail story to 24N. That’s what you were going to ask, isn’t it? I did it. Easily.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d finally come to your senses and dump her. I didn’t expect you to out yourself. Luckily, the reception has been fantastic. Couldn’t be more thrilled, personally.”

“If you think Cora and I are going to tag along on your campaign trail, you’re even more unhinged than I thought,” I counter, anticipating his next move.

He confirms my suspicions with another scoff before he says, “All I have to do is leak a video of the two of you, and your political career is done. Try me, Everett. I’ll send one to every major news outlet in the country. Hell, maybe I’ll put it on my own goddamn website. I have so many options…maybe the one in thealleyway. That’s a fun one.”

The alley behind Found House.Fuck.

“You would destroy your own reputation in the process.”

It’s like a switch flips. My father straightens his spine, raises his chin, and throws on his fake twang when he says, “My son’s personal life has no bearing on how I represent the people of Virginia. While I don’t support the creation of pornographic content, all I saw was a video of a man satiating his partner’s needs—however unsavory they may be. I wish my son the best.” As soon as he’s done speaking, he folds his arms and lets his shoulders relax. “I’ve had a statement ready since the day I got the video.”

“You’re blackmailing us.”

“I’m simply describing potential consequences.” He grins. “Let’s not worry ourselves with semantics when we should be talking about my campaign and your role in it—and hers too.”

Hearing him politic the words makes me sick to my stomach. I used to do the same thing as easily as breathing. “Absolutely fucking not. She despises you.”

“She should,” he replies, shrugging as if it’s a logical conclusion. “She’s a whore, but she’s not stupid. I hope she knows I’ll cut her loose the minute she’s no longer useful to us. But for now, she’s exceedingly useful. My comms team ran the numbers. People love her, for some mysterious reason. Something about her being a witty little Harvard-educatedwhore with a penchant for the color black. And apparently, they’re fascinated by the idea of two people with seemingly nothing in common…fucking or role playing or whatever the hell it is you two are doing that compelled you to copulate near the Jefferson Memorial. I don’t get it, but I’ll take it. Now, do you want to tell her, or should I make Beverly handle it?”

“It’s not happening.”

“Then it sounds like I’ll be cuttingyourcampaign off at the knees.” He smirks. “No? Didn’t think so—not when the nomination is close enough to taste.” He steps forward. “Now, be a good boy, get out there, and make a toast, Everett.”

When he finishes speaking, he digs his thumb into my shoulder, and I grit an exhale through my teeth.Fucking fuck, he might have broken skin underneath my suit. He shoves me toward the door.

My ears are ringing. I hate him, I hate him,I fucking hate him,and I’ve always hated him. Even when I was eleven years old, crying at dinner while he slammed his hand on the tabletop and ordered me to eat whatever repulsive, meaty concoction he forced onto my plate, I hated him. Nobody knew. Nobody understood.

Your father is a people person, Everett. Everyone loves your father.

He’s a liar.

My heartbeat is skyrocketing when I return to the dining room. The crowd of my father’s friends and cronies is a blur of wealth and noise and repulsive, leering faces I’d like to paint with horror. If only they knew.

I don’t go to my seat. I take one look at Lander and cock my head to the side. He immediately vacates his spot next to Cora.

When I fall into the chair, she leans over, wearing a concerned expression. “What happened?”

Before I can respond, my father begins tapping his knife against a wine glass in the center of the dining room. His eyes find me, and for a moment, his stare is entirely menacing. He wipes it away immediately. “Thank you all for being here today. It’s been an interesting week, hasn’t it?”

The smattering of laughs come from his friends—not mine. Not my real family.

“Well, I’ll keep it short because I know we’re all looking forward to the dessert the team at the Cunningham has prepared for us, but I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge my son and his lovely girlfriend Cora Flores.” He faces us. “Weeks ago, when Everett and Cora came to me and told me they were in a relationship, I was delighted for them.” He dips his chin. “Cora, welcome to the Logan family.”

Cora is squeezing my hand under the table, making my fingers throb. I lean closer to her, trying to soothe her, but it doesn’t help. And at the end of the day, a moment’s respite from the wrath of Warren Logan will do nothing for the lifetime Cora and I might face.

She’s a whore, but she’s not stupid. I hope she knows I’ll cut her loose the minute she’s no longer useful.

I can’t ask her to lie for him. Lying for me was one thing—a thing I regret. Lying for my father would be a sacrifice of the very integrity that defines her. I won’t allow it.

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