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I explode.
Lindsay
I am not used to having my own cheering section 24/7. He’s holding my hand and screaming at my mother. No one ever mentioned that when you fall in love, this constant defender comes with the territory.
I like it.
“No matter how many times I tell myself you have more depth, you find a way to disprove it, Monica! Jesus Fucking Christ, no one cares about Harry’s approval ratings!” Drew shouts.
Daddy and Marshall interrupt him, saying, “Actually, we do,” both at the same time.
“Not at Lindsay’s expense!” Drew snaps.
Mom looks like he called her a bad name.
“I would never put Harry’s campaign above Lindsay’s best interests!” she retorts in a haughty voice, clutching the gold necklace she’s wearing.
I start laughing. I can’t stop. One look at Silas tells me he’s trying not to laugh. Drew is red-faced and puffed up, livid on my behalf, and can’t calm down enough to giggle at the absurdity that just came out of my mother’s mouth.
“When have you ever – even once! -- put Lindsay ahead of your political ambitions?” Drew yells at her, getting in Mom’s face. She actually leans way back, afraid.
And then her cunning nature kicks in.
“My political ambitions?” She wags a finger at him. It’s perfectly manicured, the French tip flawlessly drawn. “My political ambitions? Oh, no. You do not get to lecture me about political ambition – this is all for Harry.”
Daddy snorts.
Mom turns on him, murderous.
“Don’t even go there.”
His face goes slack.
“Could we get back to the topic at hand...” Marshall implores, clearing his throat again. “We have a great deal of ground to cover.”
“And Lindsay has her psych eval for the Island in ninety minutes,” Mom adds in a matter-of-fact tone.
I clasp Drew’s elbow, mostly to get his attention, but partly to make sure he doesn’t haul off and punch my mother.
“The Island?” I challenge. “I’m not being evaluated to go to the Island. I’m just being checked out to make sure I’m okay.”
Marshall and Mom share a look.
I know that look.
No. Fucking. Way.
“I am not going to the Island,” I announce, mustering as much authority as I can. “They did an eval before they let me go yesterday. This is just a follow-up. I have to get my wounds re-bandaged, too. It’s all a formality.”
Daddy shoves a stack of newspapers across the conference table. The top one, a color tabloid, has full-body shots of me in Tiffany’s living room, naked and shoving a knife in Stellan’s crotch. My breasts and mons are blurred out.
“These are everywhere, sweetie,” Daddy explains, not looking at me. “This isn’t going away. We’re just replacing one scandal with another. And you...well, you killed someone. The psych evaluations are necessary. And Stacia says -- ”
“The police cleared me of all charges. I’m free to do whatever I need as long as I give them my contact information for interviews and investigations. No one is questioning that what I did to Stellan was self-defense,” I say, anger burning through my body.
“And well deserved,” Drew chimes in.
“But Stacia thinks that the trauma -- ”
