Sway (Landry Family #1)(37)
“Nice. Do you have any plans this evening?”
I look around the empty kitchen and shrug. “No, not really. Just some work I need to finish up. I got a little behind today.”
Memories of Alison on the porch of my family home makes me feel warm all over. It’s normally an off-putting feeling to have a woman anywhere near my family and our things, but with her, it seems normal. Organic.
“Barrett?”
I flip back to reality. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I was saying that I have a thing with Daddy tonight and was hoping you’d be able to go with me. You know how it goes, all those stuffy men talking about boring stuff. I need someone to go with so I don’t slit my throat.”
“Is it the Raparasey Dinner?”
“Yeah, I think so. It’s the one you went to with me a few times at Seaton Block. I just . . . I need your hot ass to go with me again.”
Chuckling, I stand and head to the fridge for a bottle of water. “I’m sorry, Daph, but I can’t.”
“Why?” she pouts. I can hear the disappointment in her tone, maybe even a little anger.
“I told you I have work to do,” I point out.
“Yeah, but you always go with me. And think of all the connections you can make, sugar. It’s good for you. And Daddy will be there, of course, and I know he hasn’t officially endorsed you yet . . .”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?” she presses.
“It’s really the same thing, isn’t it?”
“No!” she exclaims. “It isn’t. You always go with me. We’ve always bailed each other out, Barrett, and tonight—I need you.”
The last couple of words are so heavy, so full of implication, that I feel my shoulders fall with the weight.
“You don’t need me,” I scoff.
“I do.”
She reminds me of a little girl, pouting to get her way. I wonder if she’s always been this annoying, and if so, why I’m just realizing how bad it is.
I remember the way these things usually end, and that’s with her ass up in the air, her big, fake tits bouncing around like the balloons they are. That, too, usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight, it makes me feel uninspired to see it again.
“Look, Daphne, I’m sorry. I really am. But I’m really busy and I’m going to continue to be for the foreseeable future.”
The air changes between us. I can feel it through the phone and the miles that separate us.
“Is this because of the campaign or that girl I’ve heard you’re seeing?”
She catches me off guard. I don’t respond.
“If you’re the smart man I know you to be,” she says, her voice dripping with sweetness, “you will realize where your bread is buttered, Barrett. And that’s right here, sugar.”
“I’m not your ‘sugar.’”
She exhales a long, dramatic breath. “You and I have always been a thing. No matter who you see, who I date, it’s your bed I always end up in. You know that. We’ve been in the same schools, through the same elections, through the same bullshit our entire lives. Don’t act like you don’t want me now—especially now when you need me.”
It’s the way she says it, like she has one over me. It infuriates me and I see red.
“I don’t need anyone, Daphne,” I spit out. “We can be friends if that’s what you want. But we aren’t going to be more than that and that’s not for any reason other than we never were.”
“You’re fucking up.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Maybe. But it won’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last.”
Alison
I type my favorite words, The End, and finish my paper. Hitting save before I lose the last five hours of work, I close my computer and my eyes as well.
It’s after two in the morning and I haven’t slept more than a handful of hours over the past few days. Between work at Hillary’s during the day, a host of papers due in my classes, and a few catering jobs mixed in, I’m bone tired.
I check on Huxley before heading into my room and slipping beneath the covers without even brushing my teeth.
My paper was on ethics in journalism, and the entire thing made me think of Barrett and the unethical practices that are aimed at him. I hate that his voice is often twisted and sometimes diminished based on the slant of the journalist writing the piece. It’s true for all politicians and celebrities, I guess, but Barrett I know. Or I think I do.
He’s wanted to see me this week, and maybe I’ve wanted to see him too, but it hasn’t worked out. And I’m kind of glad for that. Over the past week, we’ve been able to get to know each other without any pressure. We’ve had a couple of phone calls and a boatload of texts, and I scroll through them and smile.
Like he senses I’m awake and thinking of him, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Barrett: I think I would sleep better if I could roll over and see you.
Me: I snore.
Barrett: I can figure out how to occupy your mouth.
Me: So much for all the credit I was just giving you for being a gentleman.
Barrett: The veneer comes off late at night. ;)
Me: Why are you up?