Page 81 of Lust
“Mr. Jones, if you’d just let us have a word in private.”
Lilith rushed to my corner of the room.
She dropped her voice so only I could hear her. “Have you lost it, Tristan? CARP is the biggest sponsor for my lobby group. The checks I donate to your campaign all come from them. They funded more than seventy percent of your last election. These developers work for CARP. The moment word gets back to the umbrella corporation that you jilted them, you’ll never see a dime again. But that’s not even the biggest problem. All the big names that have endorsed you so far will all pull out. Your political career will be over.”
“Get. Out.” I chewed out to no one in particular.
The words were said with such malice that Lilith gasped. Wisely, she didn’t argue. Neither did the two men. They quickly packed up their things, made some threat about how I’d never see another check or get an endorsement, and exited. An awkward Jen lingered for a few minutes before following suit.
“Get your stuff together. We’re leaving,” I informed Sara harshly, my hands shaking from anger. I wasn’t angry at her. I was angry at myself. I had become a politician they could keep in their pocket by buying my loyalty. And I had let it happen for years.
She simply watched me as the door shut after Jen. Sara hadn’t exhibited a modicum of shock or emotion throughout the drama.
“Why did you do that?” she finally asked in a whisper. “That was political suicide.”
I shrugged easily. “So be it.”
Baffled, she argued weakly, “But this… it’s your dream.”
I mulled the words over with my brows drawn together. Yes. Despite my cold, unfeeling ways, I had hoped to leave a better world behind. I had campaigned endlessly, keeping the interests of the next generation in mind. It was a shame that I’d never get to see my work come to fruition, but if it meant not working with scum bags, then I was okay with my decision.
I stopped, the realization slapping me in the face.
It turned out that I couldn’t sell my soul for the sake of my desires.
“Itwasmy dream,” I said after an elongated pause. “Dreams change.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is what you’ve wanted ever since I have known you. I’m not letting you quit. Despite our differences, I know one thing for sure. You were born to be a leader, Tris. And if you don’t have the support of those people, it’s going to be near impossible to win the election. It’s not just the money but the endorsements, too.”
“I know,” I agreed. “That’s why I’m going to drop out of the race.” Why hadn’t I thought to do so before? There wasn’t so much press covering my every move as a congressman. If I became a senator, my life would be under a microscope. Sara and I were generally limited to the confines of her room in fear of getting caught. It’d only worsen.
“What!” she exclaimed, her emotions rising. “You can’t. The elections are in less than a month. You shouldn’t even be here right now. You should be going door-to-door campaigning like our parents are currently doing onyourbehalf. After everything you have given up getting to this point, why would you suggest dropping out?”
“Because it’s turning me into a shit person,” I retorted.
“Then let’s find a way to do things differently. If you don’t want to be in the pockets of those corporations, then let’s find another way. But I’m not letting you sacrifice your lifelong dream—”
“You’re not making me sacrifice anything. This ismychoice because what you’re doing here is a hell of a lot better than even one thing I have done in years.”
She glanced at me with glossy eyes. “Tris…” she trailed off in a whisper.
“And that’s not the only problem. No matter how we dice it, keeping your day job as a reputable senator is impossible when you’re fucking your sister. And I’d really like to keep fucking my sister,” I added with a smirk. Now that I was thinking of it, it wasn’t a bad idea. Perhaps I could fuck her one more time before Jen returned with her incipient adoration.
Sara stared at me like I had grown three heads. “This isn’t funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
Sara shook her head. “No, Tris. The shelter will find another way. Maybe we can talk to them—”
“Stop. It’s done with.”
But it wouldn’t be Sara if she knew how to stop. “No. I don’t accept that,” she announced, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you don’t want those people’s money or support, fine. But you don’t get to drop out or give up on something you have worked toward for your entire life. Not without a good reason.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but Sara swiftly cut me off.
“Please, Tris. I believe in you from the bottom of my heart. You were meant for greater things. Please don’t drop out. Just promise me that you won’t drop out until we have exhausted every resource. You can fund your own campaign. And fuck it. We’ll do this together without endorsements.”
Did she really believe in me to this extent?
