Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(75)

She nods. “Of course. Maybe we can break for a quick lunch, then I’ll have our scheduler clear our boardroom for the next couple of hours.”

I thank her and bid Betty good luck with her upcoming vote. And I’m on my own for the next hour. I quickly eat my lunch, which is just a boring ham and cheese sandwich, and then decide to take a walk. My strides here are shorter, slower than they were when I worked with Meghan, but I feel my heart race every time I walk these halls.

It’s like a strange memory grips me and makes me feel like I’m late for something, or I’m screwing something up. I know now there are good work environments here as well as unhealthy ones. And I just found my way into one that was underprepared and over, overwhelmed.

When I make it to the Senate side, though, my pace quickens. I adjust my collar and my bow tie, and I confidently stride through Senator Wright’s doors. Jenna notices me right away and throws me an awkward wave, then comes around to the front to see what I need. She ushers me back into the empty intern space where I spent so many hours. That back room with Meghan’s office and the one round table. Meghan spots me, and she spins her chair around quickly.

“Hey,” I say. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by.”

“Of course not. How is it with Congresswoman Caudill?” If she’s feeling awkward, she’s definitely not showing it. “I hear she’s got a great team.”

“She does, she does. I’m learning a lot! How are you doing? Has it calmed down any?”

She laughs. “I don’t think it ever calms down. I always tell myself that, like, after X happens, or after the Y meeting is over, that’s when I’ll be able to catch up. But I can’t catch up. As you got to witness firsthand.”

“Oh yeah, I picked up on that. I lost hope pretty early on, just thought I could put my head down and work through it.” I take a seat and avoid eye contact. “I have to ask, Did you get in trouble? I feel bad.”

This makes her shift uncomfortably, but she spins around fully and crosses her legs. She’s got this casual look, but also one like she’s got to defend herself.

“I did, sort of. Nothing formal—though I definitely would have if word would’ve gotten out anywhere beyond Betty. But I should have known what I was doing was wrong.”

I nod, then tell her, “If it helps, I did learn a lot. And it was an experience I will definitely never forget.”

“Well, I hope you keep learning with Betty.” She shrugs coolly, and her gaze passes over all the college alumni paraphernalia on the walls. “For what it’s worth, I think you’ll figure out how to make a career out of this if college isn’t your thing. It’s not going to be easy, but from what I’ve learned about you, you’re quick and determined. Just don’t push yourself too hard. That breakdown you had? I think we’ve all been there. I’m trying to figure out a balance myself, because the only alternate is to transfer out of politics forever, and I don’t want that.”

I promise her I’ll keep it in mind, and I begin to see a future without college standing in the way. Reese sends me a text as I walk back, and I jump when I see the notification.

Your mom is in the news, he says, and drops in a link to our local TV station’s website. The article’s title, “Gracemont High School Board Passes Motion to Require Anti-LGBTQ-Bullying Training for Teachers,” strikes fear into my heart. When there are so few queer teens in our school, a news story like this might as well single us out. Unease washes over me, as I wonder exactly how my mom is involved in this.

I dive into the article, slowly picking up that the school board drafted and passed a measure that trains all staff on how to handle all anti-LGBTQ bullying, but also promises stronger punishments for bullies—including, in some cases, losing their right to walk for graduation. The measure was introduced and lobbied for by the vice principal. My mom.

When I reach the boardroom, I feel myself start to tear up. My mom and I have never had the sort of bond that Gabriel has with his, but so much of her energy has gone into preparing me for a life outside Gracemont. She just didn’t realize that by only focusing on the future, she forgot to really pay attention to the present.

Right at one p.m., Dahlia steps into the office with a few bound handbooks. I look to each one, and their titles pop out to me: Legislative Strategy, Allies and Coalitions, Media & Communications.

I reach for the communications plan first, and Dahlia laughs.

“Thought you might want to look at that one,” she says. “Your mom’s the one who wrote it, after all.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

GABRIEL

Though I’m sure this is nothing like what Sal went through, working in the Save the Trees Foundation office has been a lot. It seemed like we had so many days leading up to the end-of-summer gala, but three weeks just evaporated in the blink of an eye.

Though she’s a little high-strung, we’re all basically obsessed with our new boss, Laura. She brings coffees in for us every day, and she leads with motivation and a more authentic energy than we’re used to seeing around here. She’s got this compassion that seems to resonate with donors based on how quickly she can secure big checks—I’m talking checks with a lot of zeros—but she also has this super-logistical side that she employs whenever she needs to flip into gala-event-planner mode.