Page 3 of Darling Beasts

“Yes! You care!” Ozzie said. “We all do!”

“It’s kind of admirable...” I said.

“I asked myself, why not completely switch gears? Do something that might change lives, on a large scale?”

“Oh, God.” Ozzie threw back his head and groaned. “Notmaking a difference.”

“I want the name Gunn to be associated with something good. And I want to achieve this with my children.”

“Okay...” Talia said, pulling her ponytail over her left shoulder. “If restoring the family name is your goal, is this the best way to do it? There’s a ton of risk involved, and I can’t recall a single documented case of someoneimprovingtheir social capital after running for office.”

Dad chuckled nervously. “Geez, folks. If I were paranoid, I’d worry you don’t see me as a good candidate.”

“You’d make a great candidate,” I jumped in, scratching my arm, which was suddenly very itchy. Could this be...? I shook my head, pushing away the thought. “But I think the hesitation you’re sensing is about us working on the campaign?”

“No actually, it’s the candidate part,” Ozzie said.

“F.D. Gunn was supposed to be a family affair,” Dad said, “but by the time it got to my generation, it was only me and Uncle Doug. Is the concept of a family business so outlandish?”

It was outlandish, especially since he’d never asked any of us to work at FDG. None of us ever wanted to, but that was neither here nor there. “It’s a generous offer,” I said, “but we already have jobs?”

Ustenya snorted, because she and also likely Dad believed only Talia qualified. In their minds, neither running an experimental theater company (me) nor influencing (@DegenerateOz) was a legitimate form of work, even though Ozzie probably made three to four times what Talia and I did combined.

“Bags has a point,” Ozzie said. “I’m not upending my life for something that will burn out in flames by next week. Can a Republican even win in the state of New York?”

“It’s not about winning per se,” Ustenya said. “Also, he’s not—”

“It’s a little about winning...” Dad mumbled.

“There was the one Republican,” Talia said, “who claimed to have played volleyball in college, and his mom died in 9/11? But he didn’t last long.”

“I’m not a Republican!” Dad said, and we gasped.Not all billionaires, I thought, then remembered Dad wasn’t a billionaire anymore, if he ever was in the first place. “I’ve been voting Democrat since Mondale.”

A second gasp rippled through the crowd.

“What, was Jimmy Carter a bridge too far?” Ozzie joked, and I cranked my head toward him, shocked my brother was familiarwith presidential candidates from the 1900s. He wasn’t exactly the brains of the family—no offense. “You’re not a storm-the-capitol type, but your whole aesthetic. It’s giving...” He swirled a hand. “Deep Reagan.”

I opened my mouth. A protest. A defense of Dad. Something to take this down a notch. But before I could spit out a single word, a burning scent filled my nose and hives began to crawl up my arms.Oh, God. It was happening again.

Diane leaned into me. “Are you okay?” she whispered. “You look... unwell.”

Ignoring Diane, I hopped to my feet. The timing was atrocious, but I had to leavenow, if it wasn’t already too late. Muttering excuses about not feeling well, I rushed out of the room.

“Gabby!” Talia barked. “We aren’t done.”

I froze in the doorway. Stay or go—these were my two very bad options. If I left, Talia might never speak to me again. If I stayed... God only knew. Perhaps if I stood in this spot, just outside the room, everything would be fine. I swiveled back to the group and Talia offered me an icy blue glare before returning to Dad.

“Anyway.” She let out a puff of air and flicked her ponytail behind her again. “Have you weighed this from a social capital perspective? Aren’t you friends with at least one sitting senator from New York?”

Talia paused to check my location. Like a good girl, I remained in the doorway, even as I grew increasingly itchy, like I’d been rubbed down with poison ivy. Also, the stench. God, I hated the smell.

“Wouldn’t competing against one of your friends be deemed poor form?” Talia said.

“That’s the best part.” Dad threw on a grin, and my stomach turned over.Oh. This was going to be worse than I thought. “I’m running for the open seat in California. The Gunns are moving to the West Coast.”

Chapter Two

Talia

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