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Are you even a politician if you have *shudder* feelings?
Will I stop with the are you even a politician sayings? No.
“But DJ-ing these wild parties needs to stop.”
“It wasn’t a wild party.”
“You just came from jail,” he deadpanned. “There was over a million dollars’ worth of coke in that bag they found you with.”
“I wasn’t with that bag,” I reiterated. Then I choked. “A million dollars? I know Westbrook is monied, but even that seems excessive for a campus party.”
“Maybe. Unless a state senator’s son is found with the bag.”
I snorted. “You and Mom are generous, but even you know I don’t have a million dollars to buy drugs.”
“It’s the implication, son. The way it looks.”
Image. Blah. Blah. Blah.
I started to shake my head, but he held up his hand. “No more parties.”
“No.”
He raised his perfectly threaded brow. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Maybe.” I challenged.
“You can drop the parties for the rest of the semester, or you can come back home with me and finish all your classes remotely while helping me on the campaign trail.”
“Fine.”
“I appreciate that, son.”
See how he does that? Makes it out like I am doing him a favor instead of agreeing to an ultimatum.
“I have class,” I said, heading for the exit.
“You have an interview with the police tomorrow.” He reminded me.
“Niles told me in the car.” He also told me that Matthew needed to be there too.
“He will meet you at the station. Don’t say anything unless he’s there.”
“I know.”
“Stay out of trouble. The election depends on it.”
I wanted to point out that if his returning to the senate for another term depended on what I was doing, then maybe he wasn’t that great at his job. But he did just get me out of jail.
I stopped midstride and turned back. “Dad?”
“Yes, Arsen?”
“I told that cop not to touch Matthew,” I said.
Dad’s brow wrinkled a moment, and I realized I’d slipped and called him Matthew instead of Prism.
I forged on. “He didn’t seem to think I had the authority to back up my words.”
