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He didn't even blanch at the idea of the girl being killed—if only his constituents could see him now.
“And make a martyr out of her?" he groused at the same time as he puffed away on his cigar. "No. Alan went through with the wedding because his mother started sobbing whenever he talked about backing out of it.”
“Momma’s boy,” I commented with a laugh, shaking my head.
“In this instance, that works in our favor. Elizabeth’s a good girl. Will make a fine First Lady someday.”
If that was supposed to be a smooth segue, it failed. I knew Elizabeth was a good girl. She was of Irish stock.
Preferring to deal with the bullshit now, I told him, “Aidan was disappointed you didn’t win the primaries.”
Alan tensed. “No more than me.”
I wafted a hand. “You’re in no danger. Our friendship isn’t terminated with your inability to get elected into the Oval Office.”
Twice he’d tried, twice he’d failed.
The ‘man of the people’ act worked for a Senator but didn’t seem to pass the sniff test when it came down to a presidential election.
“That’s good to know.” His shoulders dropped, and the mask of false joviality he’d been wearing wobbled as relief hit him.
Making the Five Points a promise and then failing to fulfill that promise was how you found yourself in an early grave.
It was good he remembered that.
These men, so influential but so forgetful that the Five Points held more power than they ever could.
I smiled at the thought and took a deeper puff on the cigar.
“Elizabeth’s one of yours?"
His wary question had me eying my cigar. A Five Pointer? No. But he didn’t need to know that. Not if his investigations into the girl hadn’t told him as much.
“Irish?" I puffed on the Cuban, purposely misunderstanding him. "I know. As you said, she’ll make a fine First Lady.” I angled my head to the side as I took a deep gulp of whiskey. “Are you going to retire from office?”
He pursed his lips. “I was thinking about it. Alan Jr. needs a lot of work if he’s going to be cultivated into presidential material.”
“It’s definitely a task worthy of your time. You promised the Five Points a president, Alan.”
“I remember.” He shot me a wary smile. “A Davidson never forgets his dues.”
“Good to know.”
“It’s a shame your brother couldn’t attend the wedding.”
Well, that was a fucking lie if I ever heard one.
“Business always gets in the way,” I dismissed, impressed by his ability to bullshit—nobodywanted my older brother around.
“Doesn’t it, though?” he consoled.
Sinking back the whiskey, I sighed with repletion as the heat from its burn licked at my insides. Then, still smoking the cigar, I got to my feet and held out my spare hand.
“Don’t let us down, Alan, and we won’t let you down.”
This time, his palm was clammy as it enfolded mine in a gentleman’s handshake. Alan had a good poker face, I had to give him that, but controlling his expression was one thing, his sweat glands another.
“I appreciate your patience. Enjoy the party. It’ll be going on all night.”
