Page 102 of Playing to Win

“But I wanted—” Andrew blinked back a tear.I wanted to visit Gretchen tomorrow. I wanted you to meet her. I wanted one last beautiful night in my favorite place on earth.

“Andrew,” his father said, “I think it’s best you stay offline until after the referendum next week. Let this commotion die down a bit.”

The thought nearly made him choke. Remain silent during this historic time in Scotland’s history? “Jeremy, tell them.” Andrew turned a pleading gaze on his brother-in-law. “On our cruise you asked me to speak outmore, remember?”

“I did.” Jeremy spoke to Dad. “This week is a golden opportunity for Andrew to make a name for himself in the Conservative Party.”

“He’s making a name for himself all right,” George said with a growl. “And that name is ‘Judas.’”

Andrew’s anger swelled again. “I’m suddenly an ex-Tory, because of one retweet?”

“It’s more than a retweet, and you know it.” Mum landed a stern gaze on Colin, then shifted it to Andrew. “I agree with your father. Stay offline. And when you go to London tomorrow, please remain there until the start of the semester.”

Andrew looked at Colin. Ten more days apart? Now, when they’d finally found harmony? “What if I don’t agree to these demands?” he asked his parents.

Dad drew himself up to his full height, looking every inch the Fourth Marquess of Kirkross. “Then I’m afraid there will be consequences.”

= = =

“What did he meant by consequences?”

Andrew gave Colin a dour look, his face lit by the Tesla’s silver dashboard lights. “‘Consequences’ is code for cutting my allowance.”

“Cut it completely?”

“Of course not.” Andrew accelerated hard, zipping through the A90’s light late-night traffic, making Colin’s stomach press against his ribs. “That would be akin to disownment, which would bring more disgrace to the family than any action I could ever take to provoke it. But my father could start giving me less money than I need.”

Before tonight, Colin would have gagged at Andrew’s economic “needs.” Now he just felt pity and outrage that the Sunderlands would use their financial support to bully Andrew into silence. Lord and Lady Kirkross had seemed so nice at first, but underneath their gentility was that upper-class unfeeling ruthlessness—not to mention cluelessness about how the world actually worked. The only one who’d acted decently was Andrew’s brother-in-law, Jeremy, and since he was a Tory operative, Colin didn’t trust him either.

“‘He’s making a name for himself all right,’” Andrew said, mocking George’s thunderous tone. “‘And that name is Judas.’ God, my brother must’ve been so proud of that line. Sounds like rejected soap-opera dialogue.”

Colin had been impressed—and frankly a wee bit turned on—by Andrew’s defending his honor against George’s insults. But he wondered how his boyfriend could be shocked at the reaction to his retweet, both online and from his family.

As a self-proclaimed master of social media, Andrew must have known he’d cause an uproar. Maybe he just enjoyed pissing off his family. Or maybe he wanted to confuse his haters—including the person who’d chucked a rock through his window.

Or maybe he’d shared Colin’s tweet because deep down he agreed with it. Maybe it wasn’t a rash act at all, but a courageous one. Maybe he’d be open to more truths.

As they began to cross the enormous Forth Road Bridge, Colin cleared his throat. “Before all this, your mum seemed pure supportive of you and me. As a couple, I mean.”

Andrew grunted. “Guess I ruined that, didn’t I?”

“She said my story inspired you, the things I’ve overcome.”

“It does.” Andrew reached out and squeezed Colin’s hand. “You’re amazing.”

“But I’ve not overcome anything yet.”

“You will. You’re on the right track. You’ll finish your degree and find a job and be a huge success.”

“That’s the thing, see.” Colin ran his teeth over his upper lip, trying to work out how to explain reality to someone like Andrew. It felt like the day Emma had asked him point-blank whether Father Christmas was real. “Remember that family in the tower block with no electric?”

Andrew frowned. “Yes, of course.”

“The husband, Mr. Henderson, he phoned me the next night to ask a few questions. It turns out, he and his wife have both got bachelor’s degrees. She works at a nail salon and he works at one of those payday-loan places. Minimum wage, both of them.”

Andrew’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “How is that even possible? Why haven’t they got better jobs?”

“Because therearen’tbetter jobs, not enough of them.” Colin looked away from Andrew, over at the red steel skeleton of the Forth Rail Bridge. Beyond the hills on its other side glowed Edinburgh’s city lights. “That could be me one day, no matter how clever I am, no matter how hard I work.”

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