Page 26 of Notorious

“Okay,” I say slowly.

Kurt looks at me intently, willing me to understand something that I’m not getting. “It’s a very powerful moment, and no matter what, some people will think he makes the wrong choice. What he ultimately does, I think, is perfectly in line with his character. All I’m saying is, I know the arguments about the good of the many and society and wanting to serve, because that’s what’s been drilled into me by my parents, and that’s what got me interested in running. Now, though, when I’m faced with the decision—do I let you go so I can maybe win an election, or do I stay with you and see if I can help you?—I gotta choose you. It’s simple. Your life is more important than some abstract concept I can barely articulate.”

“You don’t even know me,” I mutter, my cheeks heating at the idea that anyone on the face of this planet besides my mama and my sister, May Ella, would choose me.

No one ever has.

“In some ways, it doesn’t matter that I don’t know you,” Kurt says, and I see some feistiness in him that I hadn’t noticed last night. A backbone. It’s sexy. “I’ve made the decision that we’re keeping you alive, because you clearly can’t be trusted to look after your own best interests.”

“Ouch.” I sit back in my chair. “I don’t know. I ain’t entirely sure what’s what and how things are supposed to be. I’ve always been a planner and then just followed the plan. Now that I’ve thrown the plan out with the pig slops, I’m … lost.”

I should just die. Kill myself. Put all of us out of the misery.

Kurt looks at me with dark, compassionate eyes. “I understand that. I like plans, too, and I get on edge when they change. When we’re all set to do something and then … nope—it’s unsettling. But I can help you. Step one is to get you to a therapist.”

“Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands. “I didn’t say that was okay?—”

“No, you haven’t. And we’ll talk about all of this. But I wanted to let you know that’s what I’m thinking. There’s no shame in going to a therapist, Johnny,” Kurt says. “I go to a therapist.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ve had more therapy than you can imagine, and one thing I’ve learned is that mental health is just the same as any other medical condition. If you broke your arm, you’d go to a doctor for a cast, right?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, seeing where he’s going with this.

“This is no different. Brain chemistry is a real, physical thing, and you having these suicidal thoughts is related to that. At least I think it is. That’s why we’re going to get you help.”

I don’t reply. I ain’t got the money to get my brain fixed. My mama ain’t got the money she needs to get her body fixed. That’s the whole point.

But Kurt seems like he’s not going to take no for an answer, and while part of me wants to challenge him, part of me wonders if he’s so stubborn nothing can change his mind. And I’m just so tired. He’s offering a solution, and I don’t know if I have the energy to keep arguing.

Money doesn’t seem to be an issue for him, either.

Mama says a fool and his money are soon … married. Appears that Kurt’s the fool in this scenario, though I have no intention of exploiting him.

Still … it’s tempting to let someone else take charge. Even though I know that’s only a temporary solution.

“Since I’ve burned my bridges employment-wise,” I say carefully, “I need to be clear that I ain’t in a position to be able to contribute financially. Like, at all, at least until … until I find work.”

“Burned bridges? You’re not going to?—”

“Keep doing porn? No. I announced my retirement yesterday, but the way I see it, it didn’t matter. No studio had given me work in months. Not since the lawsuit.”

“Lawsuit?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other.”

“Right.” He sips his coffee. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But I want to tell him. “I’m suing my former studio. I mean, it’s been going on for … seems like forever, though my lawyers tell me everything’s moving along as fast as can be expected.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. That sucks.” He frowns. “Wait a minute, I heard about that. Not any specifics,” he adds quickly. “Just that they represent you. Weston & Ramirez, right?”

“That’s right.”

Kurt grins a cute, toothy smile that distracts me from my mood. No matter what, I like being around this man. “I know Sam Stone,” he says. “He works there, and he may have mentioned you being in the office.” He blushes. “He teases me that I was less starstruck when he ditched me for Julian Hill than when he told me about seeing you in person.”

I hadn’t put those pieces together last night, since I’d been a wee bit sauced. But now that I think about it, I remember those posters around town showed Kurt and Sam together, looking mighty friendly. In a way, it’s reassuring to know that Kurt really—probably—is one of the good guys. Everyone I’ve met at Weston & Ramirez seems to be trying to do the right thing, even if they are lawyers, so if Sam was with Kurt, that backs up Kurt’s story about wanting to help people.

I … enjoy being with him, even if he’s fucked up my plans to get Mama money.

Maybe that blame rests squarely on me. I’m the fuckup here. I’m always the fuckup.

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