Page 96 of Notorious

“Yeah, I guess. Are you working on a new album?”

“Always. I just need a spark,” Jules says. “I’m thinking of trying something new. I like contradictions—happy music with depressing lyrics, or vice versa. Or the juxtaposition of modern and classical. Like violins with a drumbeat.”

“You should get Johnny’s sister to play for you,” I say.

“Oh? What does she play?”

“The violin. She’s very good.”

Jules raises an eyebrow. “Does she have a website? Or a demo I could listen to?”

“I doubt it. She’s had to back-burner the music in favor of earning a living. But she played for us when we were there for Thanksgiving, and she blew me away.”

“All right. I’m intrigued. Put me in touch with her so I can hear what she sounds like?”

“I’ll do that,” I say, and make a note to get her number.

“How’s Johnny doing?” Sam asks. “Better, I hope?”

“I think so. He has good days and bad. The intensive therapy definitely helped, but he’s not all the way … I don’t know if he’ll ever be fully recovered.”

“Those sorts of things take time,” Jules says. “I think it’s possible.”

Sam nods. “Though maybe also, no matter how much we’ve dug, no matter how many therapists we’ve talked to, no matter how far we’ve come or overcome, there’s still always more to do. More to dig. More shit to clear in our psyche. I don’t know why we make such a big deal about needing to talk about what’s on our mind.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Eventually the conversation returns to the subject of the campaign.

“I’m so far behind,” I say. “I’m pretty resigned at this point to the idea that I’m not going to win. I’m just wondering whether I can still do some good if I stay in the race until election day, or whether I should concede and be done with it.”

“There’s no shame either way,” Jules says.

“My mom pointed out that politics isn’t the only career where I can help people,” I admit. “It just seemed like the obvious one.”

Sam clucks thoughtfully. “She’s right, though. There are plenty of things you can do to that same end. Ways you can help without having to cater to voters.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“How about working for a nonprofit? Noah and August started one to help LGBT+ youth, and they could likely use some help. It’s small now, but it could grow.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Nonprofit work?”

“Sure. I think you’d be good at it, and it could be good for you. You’ve got all this drive and energy, and you care about our community. You could see the results of initiatives a lot faster there than in the Senate. It would be on a smaller scale, but … a kid who has a bed for the night. A teen who doesn’t hurt themselves. Those are important, too.”

Visions start swirling in my head. Helping people individually rather than through lengthy attempts at legislation. Working with colleagues who share my values. That sounds … not awful. Satisfying, even. “Hmm. Interesting idea.”

“I’ll ask Noah about it next time I see him,” Sam says.

“I mean, for now, I’ve still got the campaign,” I say, shifting in my seat. “But, yeah, let me know. I’ll see what Johnny thinks, too. He might have an opinion on it.”

Sam tilts his head. “Sounds like you two have more of a relationship than ‘We met in Vegas and whoops, I fell on his wedding ring.’”

“Yeah. We do. I mean, I liked him before I met him, because I thought he was damn sexy—I don’t need to tell you guys that?—”

They both grin.

“But the real him is more complex. Sweeter. I … I think I might love him.”

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