Page 100 of Hits Different

“Brandon, sometimes important things come about very last minute. It’s not exactly like you’ve been a regular fixture around here for the last couple of years, is it?” He pulls on his jacket, even though it’s scorching outside. “We can hardly blame your father for prioritising his constituents who choose to be here, over his own family who, not to put too fine a point on it, don’t”.

I blink, not sure that I’ve heard him properly. “What did you just say?”

“I know what’s brought this on”, Winston opens his briefcase, “And don’t think your father has forgotten”. He slides out a manilla envelope and passes it over to me. “On your birthday, no less”.

Is it a card? I slide it open, but instead I pull out a neat sheaf of papers, with coloured tags dog-eared over the corners. I turn it over in my hands, eyes widening and narrowing like I’m stuck in a kaleidoscope.

The words blur in and out.Obligations and expectations over the next 12-18 months…Participation at campaign events, commitment to at least six per month…Agree not to disclose any personal grievances about the candidate unless by prior written agreement….

It’s a contract.

“It’s completely standard”, Winston wipes his glasses. “Your father just wants to ensure that you’ll meet your obligations without any unnecessary fuss or difficulty, that’s all”.

“He’s making me sign a contract to, what? Act like I’m his son?” My voice is shaking. “I’m already his son. I don’t think there’s anything standard about it”.

“Most people in your position realise how lucky they are, and don’t need to be bribed. I think he’s forgiven you for enough already, don’t you?”

His eyes drop to my phone. The background of me and Parker. He looks back at me pointedly. “I think you know what I’m referring to. Sign it, don’t sign it. Either way, the result will be the same. I’ll let myself out”.

I feel my eyes start to sting. I walk unsteadily into the sitting room and lean heavily on the couch. And I stay there, for a very long time.

* * * *

I’m woken by my phone vibrating angrily across the coffee table. The memories of this afternoon fall around me like shards of broken glass. Winston. Dad. Contract. Birthday. I grab my phone, and my heart instantly warms. Parker Facetime.

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

“Special contribution to rhyming. Bonus points for doing it with a straight face”.

“I always have a straight face. If only they knew, eh?” He grins as I flatten down my couch bed-hair. “How did it go with the Senator?”

Here’s the thing.

Parker might know me better than anyone else in the world, but that’s not always a good thing. This is the time when it’s supposed to be fun. Sex, dates. The honeymoon period. Hearing another anecdote from the Carter Grimoire of Broken Family Fairytales?

Not so hot. Not so second date.

“Good”, I force lightness into my tone. “Pretty standard”. I hover over the line between outright lying and keeping a secret. “How about you? How was work? Did the boys notice you’d been out all night?”

“Insultingly, no they didn’t. But they did when I snuck in the following morning”. He grins. “Pretty sure they think I’m a total man whore. Or just a raging super stud”.

“They’d be right on both counts”.

“I’ll let you have that once since it’s your almost birthday, almost-birthday-boy”. He presses his face close to the camera. “I wish you were here celebrating with me. Or I was there, celebrating with you. Actually, if I’m wishing for things, I’d wish we were both somewhere super-hot, knocking back weird little drink thingies with coconuts”.

“I love weird little drink thingies”. I peer closely at the screen. “Where are you anyway? Your background is pitch black”.

“Remember when we used to pretend play ninja fighters?”

“You’reunder your bed?” I can’t help but giggle. “Why?”

“Just felt more exciting to call you that way”. His eyebrows raised playfully. “I’m not used to being used for my body then having my lover beat a path out of town”.

“I’d much rather be with you, trust me”. I smile. The doorbell rings. “Oh shoot, two secs. Someone’s at the door”.

“Let the butler get it”.

“It’s his night off”, I slide across the shiny floor in my socks, ignoring the jibe. “And before you ask, the maid is nowhere to be found. Anyway, I appreciate you checking in on me, but I promise, I’m totally good. I’m going to order some pizza, have a couple of beers. A perfect chilled out almost-birthday night. Nothing could make it better”.

---