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Uncle Josh, aware of the tension, tosses a nod of sympathy my way.
The fortunes of the mayor’s race won’t rise or fall with the endorsement of Conner Wiseman. Even if they did, there are some sacrifices I won’t make for the sake of ambition.
I am aware this is not a good attitude to have in politics.
The sound of a pill bottle being shaken grabs my attention. Two white pills fall from an amber prescription bottle into my father’s broad palm. He swallows them swiftly, chasing with a sip of coffee.
“Dad, what are those? Vitamins?”
He’s not on any medication. Just last week we released a full report to the media, attesting to his clean bill of health.
He shakes his head while swallowing. “Blood pressure’s been a little high.” Then a confident smile flashes. “Nothing for you to worry about. Naturally, we’ll keep this quiet. I’m sure it’s just standard election stress.”
Some terrors follow you into adulthood. As a child, my father was everything to me, larger than life. I’d lost my mother before I ever knew her. The fear of losing my father too was so overpowering that sometimes I couldn’t breathe properly.
That old panic is not as crippling as it was when I was six. Just the same, ribbons of anxiety curl through my belly.
My tone softens. “You’re doing too much. Maybe we should cancel the weekend rallies.”
“Now’s not the time to slack off, Tess. It’s full speed ahead until the election.” He looks me over, taking note of my yoga pants and hoodie. “You are planning to go to headquarters today, right?”
No, I wasn’t. “I don’t think there’s much reason to go all the way downtown. There are no meetings on the agenda. I can work remotely.”
“Other members of the team will be there. You ought to be there too.”
Uncle Josh clears his throat a bit loudly. “It’s Saturday, Stu.”
He receives a stern ‘Who Asked You’glare for interfering. “ItisSaturday. And I’ll be working. Looks like you’re working today too. It’s what we do as Ballerinis.”
Uncle Josh shifts his gaze to the window. He’s not a pushover elsewhere but he tends to back down when it comes to his older brother. All he does is exhale a little bit more loudly than usual.
“I can stop by headquarters. It’s fine.” My phone pings with an alert and I take a casual look, expecting polling news or a social media clip. Instead, my hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my god.”
Micah. You didn’t.
My father sits up straighter. “Bad polling news?”
This is always where his mind goes first. Every time.
Uncle Josh leans forward, watching me with concern.
“No.” I turn the phone face down on the table and face my father with artificial calm. “Shakeup in the opposition camp.”
He relaxes. “What kind of shakeup?”
I’m glad it’s impossible for an outsider to hear the pounding of a heart. “You know that Carrington’s brother is his campaign director. He had an accident. Apparently both of his legs are broken. He’s stepping away from the campaign for now.”
A grunt from my father. He’s barely interested at this point. “The guy was lacking in competence anyway. Might not be the worst thing for Carrington.”
“But inconvenient this late in the game.” I pick up my scone again, nibbling at the edges as blood roars in my ears.
There is no doubt in my mind that Micah is responsible for Pierce Carrington’s ‘accident’. Micah doesn’t just act tough. Micahistough. He was outraged. He even said that Pierce’s legs should be broken.
Maybe I should be furious that he found a way to pull this off. Violence repulses me.
At least, violenceusuallyrepulses me. But then I flash back to Pierce Carrington’s smug patrician face when he thought he had me cornered. I think about what kind of plans he might have had in store. I have no proof. He would have gotten away with it.
Suddenly, I decide that Micah has the right idea.
