Page 90 of Walking Wounded

A Day in the Life is one part progress, three parts bullshit, from what Luke surmises. So many emails, so many phone calls, so many people poking their heads in for a word. Luke tries to shrink down into his chair and not be a bother, but Matt introduces him every time. “My dad’s biographer,” he says, almost proudly, and it makes Luke a little proud, too.

Hal goes and gets them lunch at one point, deli sandwiches loaded with mustard and vinegar, cold Cokes in cans carried beneath his arm so his shirt is wet when he sets them down.

It’s a boring day. A quiet day. Agoodday.

A sharp rap sounds against the door at three, and it startles all of them. Luke jerks in his chair and sees Hal and Matt do the same.

Hal recovers first, hand going to his waistband where Luke can’t see anything, but where a gun undoubtedly waits.

“Shit,” Matt says, before the door opens.

The man who enters wears an expensive suit that, though tailored, fails to fit him perfectly. Luke thinks it has something to do with his narrow shoulders and broad waist. His gray hair is tidy, his face distinguished. He looks exactly like a politician is supposed to look, to Luke’s Hollywood-biased eyes.

“Maddox,” the man says, heaving a deep sigh and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks up to the desk. His expression projects annoyance. “Did you get my email?”

“Afternoon, Brian, how are you?” Matt says. Then: “Luke, this is Senator Maxwell. Brian, this is Luke, Dad’s–”

“Did you get it or not?” the man snaps.

Matt’s face is all patience, his hands folded one atop the other on his desk. He looks, in that moment, like a photo Luke saw of Reagan in a textbook once. “Along with three hundred others, yes, I got it.”

A hand comes out of the man’s pocket, and he jabs a wavering finger through the air at Matt. “I don’t know what the hell kind of game–” he starts.

“Senator Maxwell, can I make you a cup of coffee?” Hal says, getting to his feet.

Maxwell tosses a glance over his shoulder, and does a double take when he sees the way Hal’s standing, breadth of shoulders on display, face blank, jaw set. When he turns back to face Matt, his face is starting to darken with anger. He opens his mouth to speak, and Matt cuts him off.

“Luke, Senator Maxwell here,” Matt says, “has been cooking up some omnibus legislation that hides an obscene amount of taxes inside a bill that protects voting rights. In his mind, I get what I want, and the other side gets what they want, and we all win.” He smiles, and for all that it’s steely, it isn’t threatening, not the way Maxwell’s glare is. “The only problem with that is, I ran on a platform of lower federal taxes; the people of my state – of this country – have been taxed to death. And doubling the estate tax helps no one but the Washington elite looking to line their pockets.”

Maxwell’s face is purple. “Were you out sick the day they taught getting along in preschool? You just enjoy being a pain in everyone’s–” He catches himself and says, “Side. Don’t you? I think you get off on it.”

“I don’t get off on anything. I made a commitment to the men and women who elected me to office. I won’t go back on that just for the sake of ‘getting along.’” He says the words as if they leave a foul taste in his mouth. “I thought you knew me better than that by now.”

“This bill is important,” Maxwell hisses, leaning over the desk, eyes wild with aggression. “It’s takentwo yearsto craft, and you’re going to fuck that all up. For what?Voters? The voters don’t knowshit; they wouldn’t know what was good for them if it bit them in the ass.”

Matt sighs. “This is how you get along, huh? Cursing at me.”

“Get onboard, you stupid little shit.” Maxwell vibrates with fury; a vein stands out in his forehead, throbbing like it might burst. “Get on board, or your days in Washington are numbered.”

Luke wets his lips and says, quietly, “That sounds an awful lot like a threat to me.”

The senator’s head snaps around, glare swinging to Luke’s face. “What did you just say?”

“He said you were just on your way out, right?” Hal appears behind him, takes his upper arm in one large hand. Luke sees his suit coat wrinkle as Hal squeezes tighter than is polite.

Silent, fuming, Maxwell rips from Hal’s grip and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

Luke lets out a long, shaky exhale. “Jesus. I see what you mean about high school.”

“That?” Matt snorts. “That was nothing. That waspolite.”

~*~

It’s dusk when they pack up and leave. “Some nights I stay ‘til ten, eleven,” Matt admits as they walk down the marble hallways, footfalls echoing. “Sandy doesn’t like that so much.”

Luke has a sore neck from sitting, and a notebook full of observations and notes. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he’s still a little rattled from Senator Maxwell. Not because he’s never been around an asshole before – and he can dish it back out with the best of them – it’s just that he can’t imagine someone attacking one of his own like that. Can’t imagine that anyone would feel such hatred toward a man who was trying to live up to his campaign promises. Isn’t government supposed to be representative? Isn’t it supposed to reflect the will of the majority? Of the people? He guesses it doesn’t, these days. He gusses ithasn’t for a while. They’re a long way from Washington and Jefferson, that’s for damn sure.

As they walk, Hal leans in close, lips hovering beside Luke’s ear, and Luke shivers in pleasant anticipation. “You okay?” His hand ghosts at the small of Luke’s back a moment, fingertip rubbing under the hem of his jacket and dragging against the wool of his sweater.

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