Red, White & Royal Blue(20)

June stops short, her beer halfway to her mouth. “You did what now?”

“Yep,” she tells them. Alex exchanges an incredulous look with June. “Momma managed this shitty bar when I was sixteen. The Tipsy Grackle. She’d let me come in after school and do my homework at the bar, had a bouncer friend make sure none of the old drunks hit on me. I got pretty good at pool after a few months and started betting the regulars I could beat them, except I’d play dumb. Hold the stick the wrong way, pretend to forget if I was stripes or solid. I’d lose one game, then take them double or nothing and get twice the payout.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alex says, except he can totally picture it. She has always been scary-good at pool and even better at strategy.

“All true,” Leo says. “How do you think she learned to get what she wants from strung-out old white men? The most important skill of an effective politician.”

Alex’s mother accepts a kiss to the side of her square jaw from Leo as she passes by, like a queen gliding through a crowd of admirers. She sets her half-eaten slice down on a paper towel and selects a cue stick from the rack.

“Anyway,” she says. “The point is, you’re never too young to figure out your skills and use them to get shit accomplished.”

“Okay,” Alex says. He meets her eyes, and they swap appraising looks.

“Including…” she says thoughtfully, “a job on a presidential reelection campaign, maybe.”

June puts down her slice. “Mom, he’s not even out of college yet.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s the point,” Alex says impatiently. He’s been waiting for this offer. “No gaps in the resume.”

“It’s not only for Alex,” their mother says. “It’s for both of you.”

June’s expression changes from pinched apprehension to pinched dread. Alex makes a shooing motion in June’s direction. A mushroom flies off his pizza and hits the side of her nose. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Ellen says, “this time around, y’all—the ‘White House Trio.’” She puts it in air quotes, as if she didn’t sign off on the name herself. “Y’all shouldn’t only be faces. Y’all are more than that. You have skills. You’re smart. You’re talented. We could use y’all not only as surrogates, but as staffers.”

“Mom…” June starts.

“What positions?” Alex interjects.

She pauses, drifts back over to her slice of pizza. “Alex, you’re the family wonk,” she says, taking a bite. “We could have you running point on policy. This means a lot of research and a lot of writing.”

“Fuck yes,” Alex says. “Lemme romance the hell out of some focus groups. I’m in.”

“Alex—” June starts again, but their mom cuts her off.

“June, I’m thinking communications,” she goes on. “Since your degree is mass comm, I was thinking you can come handle some of the day-to-day liaising with media outlets, working on messaging, analyzing the audience—”

“Mom, I have a job,” she says.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, of course, sugar. But this could be full-time. Connections, upward mobility, real experience in the field doing some amazing work.”

“I, um…” June rips a piece of crust off her pizza. “Don’t remember ever saying I wanted to do anything like that. That’s, uh, kind of a big assumption to make, Mom. And you realize if I go into campaign communications now, I’m basically shutting down my chances of ever being a journalist, because, like, journalistic neutrality and everything. I can barely get anyone to let me write a column as it is.”

“Baby girl,” their mom says. She’s got that look on her face she gets when she’s saying something with a fifty-fifty chance of pissing you off. “You’re so talented, and I know you work hard, but at some point, you have to be realistic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean … I don’t know if you’re happy,” she says, “and maybe it’s time to try something different. That’s all.”

“I’m not y’all,” June tells her. “This isn’t my thing.”

“Juuuuune,” Alex says, tilting his head back to look at her upside down over the arm of his chair. “Just think about it? I’m doing it.” He looks back at their mom. “Are you offering a job to Nora too?”

She nods. “Mike is talking to her tomorrow about a position in analytics. If she takes it, she’ll start ASAP. You, mister, are not starting until after graduation.”

“Oh man, the White House Trio, riding into battle. This is awesome.” He looks over at Leo, who has abandoned his project with the TV and is now happily eating a slice of cheesy bread. “They offer you a job too, Leo?”

“No,” he says. “As usual, my duties as First Gentleman are to work on my tablescapes and look pretty.”

“Your tablescapes are really coming along, baby,” Ellen says, giving him a sarcastic little kiss. “I really liked the burlap placemats.”

“Can you believe the decorator thought velvet looked better?”

“Bless her heart.”