Thirty-Four

EVERETT

Regina Rutherson’s studio is cold. In the green room, the AC is on full blast to counter the District’s summer humidity, and after half an hour, the inevitable heat of the studio lights becomes my north star. I text Cora about it. She responds with a euphemism-laced series of emojis about her plans for me tonight, and the room miraculously feels a few degrees hotter.

“Evening, son,” my father says as he strolls into the green room.

…And we’re back to freezing.

I rise from the green room’s shabby gray couch to greet him, partially because he expects it, but primarily because I’m four inches taller than him and I like to remind him whenever possible.

As usual, Beverly isn’t far behind, but when she enters, she stops in her tracks. “Oh,” she mutters. “You’re already here.”

“Evening,” I say, bobbing my chin at her before I face my father. “Dad.”

He pulls me into one of his typical hugs, patting my back with the flat of his palm. I doubt he’s ever noticed, but I never hug him back.

After he pulls away, he adjusts my tie. “You didn’t bring her.”

I temper my expression, but my eyes nearly narrow. My father and I have spoken every day this week in preparation for this interview. I even drove to Richmond to prepare in-person. Not once did he mention Cora—until now.

“Why would I bring her around you?” is my honest response.

My father’s eyes lock on mine. They’re the same shade of green but smaller. Beadier. He leans in, glaring. “You’re going to be excellent today,” he states, barely opening his mouth, hushed just above a whisper. “Regina Rutherson will take any weakness you show and run with it. You are not going to let me down today, son.”

A threat veiled as encouragement is a Warren E. Logan specialty. Accordingly, my response is an Everett C. Logan specialty: a lie. “You’re well aware I have no weaknesses.”

My father notches his eyebrow. “I’m running for Senate. This is not some piddling, local, non-voting representative role. I will be a senator . Tell me you understand the gravity of the situation, Everett.”

I force myself to mask my surprise. My father is careful. This light admonishment is the closest he’s ever gotten to reprimanding me outright.

“I understand.”

My father releases an exhale before straightening my tie. “Good boy,” he mutters before patting his fingertips against my cheek—gentle on the first one, vindictively sharp on the second.

I clench my jaw to absorb the sting of the slap, gritting my teeth to keep from reacting. My cheek throbs against the blast of cold air from the AC, but I refuse to let him see it. Luckily for me, my father doesn’t stay to admire his handiwork. He strides out of the green room, leaving me alone with Beverly, who parts her lips but doesn’t speak.

Finally, I place my hand on my cheek. My fingers are cold, but my skin burns. “I’m fine, Bev,” I assure her, even though she didn’t ask.

“How is Cora?”

Surprised, I look at her. Her brows are high, and her face is placid like she actually cares. Raising a shoulder, I give her the honest answer: “She’s fine.”

Beverly nods again. “Your father mentioned you two were…” She trails off. “Well, congratulations, Everett. She’s lovely.”

I’ve known Beverly for six years now—long enough to know when she’s being sincere. This is one of those moments.

“She is. Thanks, Beverly.”

She doesn’t say anything else. She merely waves and gives me a half smile before she leaves. And as my father’s closest confidant departs, I sincerely wish Cora (and her unparalleled powers of perception) were here. Maybe she would be able to tell me why Beverly’s smile almost seemed…sad.

***

24N is the preeminent cable news network in the country, and more than a couple political careers have been made and broken on its airwaves. Luckily, I’ve had media training for two decades and endured countless hours of Lander ‘Recently Unemployed’ Dawson drilling me on talking points. Plus, the interview is a fluff piece. I don’t really care either way.

The media fascination with my father and me, beyond the novelty of us running for Congress in the same election cycle, is that I—objectively—am hot. So, I smile. I nod. I think about Cora watching the live broadcast on her laptop and pretend to scratch my chin with my middle finger while actually flipping her off. I know she’ll love it.

For me, the most interesting part of the interview is Regina Rutherson. The Rutherson Report has held 24N’s weeknight primetime slot for the last decade, and Regina is the best kind of asshole. She’s in the center chair on election night and gets the first interview with anyone making headlines. As someone in government and politics, I’ve always respected her and her provocative interview style, which is how I know something is wrong fifteen minutes in.

She keeps touching her earpiece.

She presses her finger against it every time she’s not speaking, and her eyes keep flicking over to me.

I give her another close-lipped smile, but I’m racking my brain to figure out why Regina Rutherson, one of the most influential people at the network, would fixate on me when the Governor of Virginia—a candidate for senator in a battleground state—is seated next to me.

And speaking of my father, he’s having the time of his life, chuckling and blabbering and being an altogether charming asshole. The guy has always loved the limelight, and I’m happy to let him take it. Frankly, he needs it more than I do.

Regina does it again—touches her earpiece—before she faces my father and says, “It’s noteworthy that the Logan family has had a long history in politics, especially when you, Governor, have always positioned yourself as a traditionalist and a family man.”

My father grins like his dental hygiene is being graded on a curve. “Thank you for mentioning that, Regina, because I’m proud that family values are core to my platform and my philosophy.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “And obviously, I’m so proud of my son. He’s everything I hoped he would be.”

I give my father a kindly smile, and the only thing faker is the veiny silicone cock back at my house.

Regina turns to me. “Everett, what about you? You’re young. Unmarried. Single, is my understanding. How do family values intersect with your ideologies?”

The questions are more transparent than Cora’s slutty underwear. They make me want to rip off my mic, but I’m still here to win. While I may not relish the game like Warren does, I’m good at it.

Determined not to lie, I say, “Well, obviously family is the most important thing to me. I’m simply a firm believer in unconditional love, respect, and honesty in any family.”

My father squeezes my shoulder gently, and it almost feels real. He’s so convincing. I’m so convincing. And I imagine a world where someone could be proud of me like this, because of me —not because I’m a goddamn thoroughbred.

“Interesting,” Regina comments, before she presses her fingertip to her ear once more. “Respect and honesty. You know, that’s quite a statement given the company you keep, Everett. Can you comment on the allegations that the woman who saved your life—a dear friend, you’ve called her—calumniously and unsuccessfully attempted to blackmail Felix J. Worthington when she was a doctoral candidate at Harvard?”