Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(70)

But things aren’t resolved, at all.

April, Josh, and I are returning to the office at ten this morning. I have no idea what to expect when I get back, though I know it won’t be the same. When Meghan called me to check in, on my bus ride back from Boston, her tone was delicate, and I knew that whatever I’d done had struck a chord.

Since the weather broke unusually for a July day, I’m just walking the Mall, which is pretty quiet compared to my first time here. Tourists wind around the World War II memorial, and I just walk the loop, my eyes drifting to each pillar. I pass District of Columbia, Massachusetts, and Ohio, and suddenly feel very homesick.

“Hey, son,” Mom says as she answers the phone. “It’s been a while. How are you? How was DC for Independence Day?”

I’m glad this isn’t a FaceTime, because my face freezes in a seriously awkward position. There is no way mom would be cool about my spontaneous trip to Boston. I’ll have to come clean to her eventually, but now is just not the time.

“The fireworks were fine,” I say, hoping she doesn’t press me for details. “I just went back home after.”

“How’s the senator? You haven’t sent me any more pictures to get framed lately!” I hesitate again, but she continues on her own. “Oh, of course, the senate’s not in session. He was probably right out the door after the Fourth.”

“Yep, he was at his lake house in Michigan with the kids all week,” I say, then feel super weird about knowing so much about this guy’s personal life. “No clue when he’s getting back, though. I actually have to tell you something about the internship, but I need you to listen, and not get mad.”

“Oh no. What did you—”

“Mom, you need to listen. And maybe dissect why your first response was to assume I did something wrong.” Before she says anything else, I launch into the story of how I fell into this bonkers full-time job on the Hill with little to no training, and how major miscommunications led to me being overworked and all three of us being underappreciated.

By the time I finish, I’m about halfway between the Washington Monument and the Capitol. Each step heightens my anxiety some, but I need to go through with it. I need to walk through those doors and finish this experience the right way.

“I’m calling Betty. This is not okay. You should have told someone right away—”

“I was just trying to keep my head above water and do a good job. But I did tell Meghan, eventually. It just took some convincing from April and Josh. And, Mom, Betty knows. The senator knows. Meghan made it very clear when she called me back in that everyone knows they messed up, and they’re trying to fix it.”

“I’m still going to call her. I don’t want Betty thinking I knew about this.”

I release a dry laugh and stop in my place. I’m staring at the Capitol steps, and a part of me can’t believe Mom’s worried about how she might look.

“Really?” My voice squeaks. “That’s why you’re worried? Because it might make you look bad? Typical.”

“I raised you better than that,” she says with a scoff. “You know I’m very upset about what happened to you.”

“I’ve heard that before!” I shout. “The last day of school, you tried to reassure me that you were upset about me, but what exactly did you do to fix it? Remind me. Did that asshole not call me and Reese faggots—”

“Don’t say that word—”

I raise my voice as I say, “—and threaten to hit me to my face before graduating with honors that very weekend? Was there really nothing you could do?”

“Oh, Sal, that was an entirely different issue. There was nothing I could do. He wasn’t a student anymore.”

“Did you even try, though? Did you have to smile when you shook his hand at graduation? Did you really, honestly have to brush it under the rug that quickly?”

For once, she’s silent, and I have the answer I already knew.

“What you don’t get is that fifty people who watched that happen now know they can do the same thing and get away with it. You don’t know how fucking dangerous that is.” She starts to speak, but I talk over her. “Call Betty so you can clear your name. I have work to do.”

My cheeks are on fire, and as I hang up I see April and Josh sitting outside the entrance by Capitol South. I pause to tie my bow tie in the reflection of a car window and join them.

“How was Boston?” Josh asks.

“You missed one hell of a fireworks show,” April says. “Meghan got us tickets so we could sit in the stands. Each office only gets a couple, so she basically called every other senator to ask if they had anyone going on vacation. It was an adequate peace offering.”

“Boston was … necessary. But now I’m jealous, so thanks for that,” I say with a light laugh. I’m still a little shaky from snapping at my mom, but trying to start something new, something better with April and Josh for this last month, is worth the work.

“It looks like we’re going to be split up,” Josh says. “April basically grilled Meghan on the plan, and she’s going above and beyond to make us happy, so she told her everything.”

“God, that woman means well.” April shakes her head. “She’s only five years older than me—my eighteenth birthday was last week, while you fled the district, by the way. She seemed so old and mature when we started, but, yeah. She may be a killer scheduler, but she has no idea what she’s doing when it comes to managing interns.”