Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“I’m fine, Walsh.” Piece by piece, she reassembles herself, layering confidence and dispassion around her like veils. “I promise I’m fine.”
She slides her eyes to me like she’s just remembered that I’m there, between them. I was never supposed to see that weak, lost moment. She is naked on the Times Square billboard, but I just saw her completely exposed, and she doesn’t like it. She pulls her brows into a V, her soft lips tightening.
“I’m fine.” This time she aims the words and the hardening-by-the-second eyes at me.
“Walsh and Sofie, here’s the surprise guest I mentioned,” Ernest Baston rises from the table to give a quick kiss to the gorgeous woman I know is Sofie’s mother. He slaps the surprise guest on the back. “You both remember Kyle Manchester, right? You were at Hanover together, right?”
Harold and I met Manchester last week. I wasn’t impressed then and remain unimpressed now. He’s an opportunistic cretin who pretends to care about the issues of the moment that carry weight on a ballot. He’s social tofu, absorbing the flavor of any cause that will gain traction with voters. If he has any personal integrity, I didn’t detect it. Somehow he has convinced the American public he’s the best thing since the DVR, and he is so incredibly popular, he’ll probably be New York’s next senator. Coming from a powerful, wealthy family probably doesn’t hurt.
Kyle splits a cautious glance between Walsh and Sofie, seeming to gauge their reception of him. Walsh’s jaw is locked tight and hard as diamonds. He glares at Kyle and looks at Sofie, concern softening his expression.
What the hell is going on here? And am I the only one feeling this tension?
“Yes, Daddy.” Sofie passes one hand over the silvery fall of hair caressing her shoulder. “Don’t you remember Kyle took me to the prom?”
“That’s right.” Ernest Baston narrows his eyes at Kyle like he’s seeing him for the first time. “How could I have forgotten that? Well, he’s come a long way since high school, huh?”
“Haven’t we all.” Sofie’s eyes linger over Ernest’s hand on Kyle’s shoulder before dropping to the table. She reaches for her glass of champagne, only to find it empty. Without missing a beat, she grabs mine.
“Oh, that’s my—”
She holds my eyes with hers, gulping back the bubbly, intoxicating liquid like it’s water before slamming the delicate flute so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
Screw it. She obviously needs it more than I do.
“You’re looking at the great state of New York’s next senator.” Ernest motions Kyle to the empty seat made available at the last minute for him.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Kyle settles into the seat, snaps open his linen napkin, and lets it float over his knees under the table. “There’s an election to get through.”
“Oh, that’s a formality, my boy.” Ernest gestures that everyone should resume eating.
“Your support means a lot.” Kyle glances at Sofie again, who doesn’t look up from the fingers tangled in her lap. “It’s a long road ahead. I just hope I can hang in there.”
“You will, son.” Ernest studies his daughter, with that same look on his face as when he talked about the schools Sofie didn’t attend. “We respect quitters about as much as those who never even try.”
Sofie’s shoulders stiffen and she raises her eyes to meet her father’s. She reaches for my glass again, but it’s empty now, too. Her eyes scan the room, almost like she is looking to escape. Her fingers open and close around her small purse, a compulsion of which she seems unaware. Her eyes collide with Kyle’s across the table, exchanging some message I wish I could decode, but it’s garbled and embedded in whatever secret they harbor between them.
“I hope our future senator can count on all of your votes.” Ernest smiles around the sip he is taking and looks around the table.
An awkward silence falls over the group. I glance at Sofie, who rolls her eyes and sits back in her seat, folding her arms under her breasts.
“Kerris, the women’s vote will be crucial.” Ernest softens his shark grin for Walsh Bennett’s petite wife, who has seemed distracted much of the night.
Walsh frowns, shooting a protective glance his wife’s way.
“Oh, well.” Kerris lays her phone in her lap, but looks down once more at the screen and nods before speaking. “I…I’m not really very political.”
“Understandable.” Manchester’s smile condescends.
“But I do wonder where you stand on equal pay for women.”
I hide my grin behind a napkin, wiping away something imaginary. This should be interesting.
“Ah, well…I didn’t think you worked, Mrs. Bennett.” Manchester’s smile slips a little.
“I’ve been in the work force since I was fourteen years old.”
“Yes, but you no longer work, correct? Maybe we should talk about my stance on charter schools or—”
“I do work.” Kerris raises both brows and rests her elbows on the table. “I’m a business owner, and I would never pay a woman less than a man or a man less than a woman doing the same job.”