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"Whatever." Cory spun around, checking his phone. "You've got a breakfast in the morning. If we leave now, we can still get to Boston by three. And don't even try to argue with me. You're getting in the fuckin' car."
I pulled my arms across my chest, working somewhat unsuccessfully to trap the anger I felt bubbling up. It wasn't just that Cory had insulted me yet again––it was this, the way he always talked down to Brandon. And now I knew he didn't have to take it anymore. Neither of us did.
I looked to Brandon, who was close to seething himself. He caught my eye, and then I saw a glimmer that hadn't been there before.
"Can I?" I asked.
At that, Brandon smiled fully. "Have at it, baby."
"Cory?" I asked sweetly, disarming the man in his tracks.
"What?" he practically spat at me.
"You're fired."
Cory's rat face screwed up in confusion. He looked to Brandon. "Is she high? What does she think she's doing?" He looked back at me with disgust. "You're not my boss, lady."
"She's the boss of me. So I guess that makes her the boss of you, too." Brandon said in a genial voice. But then his expression turned hard. "Really, though. You're fired."
Cory's face turned white. "You can't be serious."
"I'm dropping out of the campaign, Cory. It was a mistake to enter from the start. Look, I appreciate everything you've done––I really do. But if politics means anxiety attacks every time I give a speech, and being constantly berated by someone who is supposed to be working for me, well, then...you and the campaign can both fuck off. I don't need this."
Cory looked back and forth between Brandon and me like he was watching a ping-pong match. "Are you...are you fuckin' kidding me?" he sputtered like a teapot about to boil. "You're going to turn down the political career of a lifetime to what...play house with Jessica Rabbit?"
"My name is Skylar!" I practically shouted.
Cory whirled around to Brandon. "You could have everything! I don't attach myself to losers, Brandon, and if you just got your head in the game, we could go all the way! The governor's mansion. The fuckin' White House! Seriously, how are you going to throw that away for a garbage collector's daughter?"
And at that, Brandon finally appeared to lose his cool. In three swift steps, he had grasped the rodent-like man by the collar and had him pushed against the back of the hotel door.
"I'm only going to say this once more," he said in a voice that was much calmer than he looked.
For once, Cory kept his mouth shut. His toes, I noticed barely touched the ground.
"I'm done," Brandon said. "That's it. The campaign is over, and if you're smart, you'll take my reference and look for work elsewhere. In the meantime, if I ever hear you say one more fucking word against the love of my life, you're going to wish you'd never heard the name Brandon Sterling. You got that?"
Under his grasp, Cory gasped, but managed to nod with one last dirty look in my direction.
"Good," Brandon said. Then he reached behind him and opened the door. "Now get out."
And with that, he tossed the petty little man out and slammed the heavy door after him. When he turned to me, his shoulders were heaving, like he'd just completed a long run.
I stepped close enough to reach out and touch his chest. His heart beat wildly.
"Are you...okay? Are you upset?" I asked. His face was so stoic, I really couldn't tell.
Brandon just looked at me, and a half-second later, he smiled with sudden happiness so pure and clear, it was blinding. Then he tipped his head back and laughed, loud and long.
"Hell fuckin' no!" he shouted as he picked me up and hugged me. "I feel..." he dropped me on the ground and kissed me. "I feel free. Well, not totally. But on my way. And Red?"
I looked up at him, and he cupped my face, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
"Free," he repeated as he pressed his forehead to mine. "And it feels great."
~
