Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(79)

“What’s in the flask?” Matt asks.

“Does it matter?” she replies, and we figure that it really doesn’t matter much.

We each practice the art of smoothly pouring alcohol into our drinks and try not to think of what would happen if we got caught. We’re volunteers, so they couldn’t fire us, but they could kick us out of our own gala, which does seem like a harsh way to end this experience.

We take slow sips of our drink, and more people buzz into the place. The party feels alive, like the fanciest wedding I’ve ever been to.

I lean over to give Matt a kiss, and ignore Tiffany groaning beside me.

“They’ve—we’ve—only got a few days left here,” Art says, and their voice is decidedly more somber than it usually is. “Let them kiss.”

The buzz of the liquor hits me, just slightly, and I feel the reality of our timeline sinking into me with Art’s words. Matt and I keep avoiding the conversation we know we need to have. Three days left, and then we’ll be long distance. Or we’ll be nothing, I guess.

Matt leans in to kiss me again, noticing my low mood. He says, in this perfect, reassuring voice, “You and me? We’ve got more than a few days left.”

SAL

“The interview went well,” I say. “Gotta go, Mom.”

After I hang up, I feel a little better about everything. Betty saved my internship experience, and I’ve learned so much about how politics works. It’s a complicated and bizarre arena, and it sounds like there’s no one right way through, so I’m hopeful for the future.

It’s my last day here, and it’s a little late, so when I go back to Betty’s office, most of the staff have already left. I return to my packed-up desk with a little thank-you card from the team for my experience here. I smile when I see Betty Caudill’s name signed, and I want to ask if I can have a new fancy pen after this—one with her name instead of Senator Wright’s.

I pack up my shoulder bag and check that I’ve got everything, and a sort of overwhelming sadness takes over. I might never make it back here, especially if I choose to not take the “normal” path after this. I might screw up my career even more that way. But I also don’t know what I want to do. The only time that I really felt connected to the people during this whole internship is when I picked up the phone and talked to that constituent of Senator Wright’s. I want to find a way to work with the people, and I hate that I’ll be leaving this internship with more questions than answers.

But it was a successful experience. And I try to hold on to that.

“Sal, do you have a second? I want to have one last chat with you.”

I turn to see Betty Caudill in the doorway. I drop my bag and say, “Sure, of course.”

I follow her into the conference room and almost freeze when I see who’s joined her. Senator Wright’s team—Meghan, Pasquale, and the senator himself—all sit around the table.

Briefly, I feel like I’m in trouble, until Meghan gives me a cheery wave. I walk into the office, and Betty shuts the door. The senator clears his throat.

“Sal, it was great meeting you and working with you this summer. I wanted to say I really am sorry for everything that happened, and I was fully ready to take the blame at my interview with The Hill today.”

“Not everything,” Pasquale says, which makes the senator laugh.

“No, if I took the blame for everything I’m accused of on Twitter, we’d be here all day. But for overworking you and for taking advantage of your time and effort as an intern? For spearheading this program, then immediately delegating it to my overworked team? Absolutely. I did those things, and that’s all on me.”

He pauses and looks thoughtfully at me before saying, “However, they came in and explained that their story would downplay the egregious rumors, and that all three of you gave them a wonderful, empowering story about how much you learned over this experience.”

“We did learn a lot,” I say.

“You could have learned more,” he replies firmly. “Anyway, I want you to know that I really do appreciate this. No doubt you’ve heard the other rumors floating around about me announcing my candidacy for president.”

“I saw your name on a few possible lists, of course.”

“Those rumors aren’t exactly false, though nothing’s set in stone yet. We still have a long time before any of this gets announced, and we won’t be hitting the ground running and setting up a campaign for a while. But I want you to know that, if the stars align and everything works out, if you’d like to help out in the Ohio base—which will likely be managed by Betty—know you’ll always have a spot open on my volunteer staff. Possibly a paid one as well once we get fundraising and talk this over more. I owe you that much.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say. “Thanks to all of you. I’ll be in touch.”

“Finish high school, Sal,” Meghan says with a smile. “Enjoy the hell out of your senior year.”

“I will,” I say. “And then we’ll make history.”

GABRIEL

It was a million degrees at the gala, so it’s a relief when the four of us are able to finally sneak out and dart into the fresh air. I loosen my tie and take in a deep breath. I decided to wear one of Matt’s bow ties, mostly so I could send a selfie to the group chat pretending to be Sal, but damn those things are restrictive. I don’t know why he likes them so much.