Page 130 of Seeing Grayscale

“I can’t!”

My dad goes eerily still for long seconds while we both digest what I said. “Dad, please, he’s a friend and I promised—”

The loud click of his loafers over the tile floor breaks through my plea, and before I can register what’s happening, he raises his right hand and slaps me. “Get. Rid. Of. Him.”

My cheek burns, but I don’t touch it. “Nothing is going to come between me and winning this election. Nothing. Not your drunk of a mother and not my idiot son. Get rid of that man or so help me god, Hunter.”

Everything hurts.

Tears scald the backs of my eyes, threatening to prove how weak and stupid I am. I bite my cheek so my chin stops wobbling.

The worst part is that my dad has already dismissed me; he’s left the kitchen, and I’m just standing here, rooted to the spot.He didn’t give me a chance to explain, didn’t care that I was doing the right thing.

How could he not see that—hell, or even think it was a possibility?

It takes me a while, but I manage to get my legs to work again and leave the kitchen. He’s said what he had to, and now it’s my job to do it. The good news is that he doesn’t know where Gray is.

I can continue lying.

Going back and forth from the summer house to work will be tough, but it’s not the worst thing ever.

“Hunter,” I stop in the foyer, facing the living room, where my dad is filling his decanter with scotch.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry I hit you. That was…wrong.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

He nods once and tosses the drink back. “Do the right thing, Hunter. I know I’m hard on you, but it's because I love you. Do you understand?”

Because I love you.

Because helovesme.

The last time my dad said that to me, I was eight years old and had won my first debate at school. Something warm and dangerous unfurls in my chest as I stare at him.

He loves me.

With a heavy sigh, my dad sets his glass down. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I understand,” I chirp quickly. “I understand, Dad.”

“Good.” He seems okay. Better. Maybe I can still have both. “I want him gone tonight, son. He’s nothing and no one, don’t let it weigh on your conscience. People like him make their own bed, and it isn’t up to you to spare him from lying in it. And if he isn’t gone, I’ll have him removed.”

Unable to answer him, I merely nod.

“Your mother is making roast tomorrow for dinner. Be here.”

I nod again and hurry to the front door.

FIFTY-ONE

Alex:Ihaveresourcedall means of communication with my boss, so I’m now forced to text you.

Alex: Please have him call me ASAP. It’s about Mr. Malone.

I put down my sketchbook so I have free range of motion and quickly text that I’d tell Hunter when he got back.

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