Page 92 of The Music Demon

“Why not?”

“Got a sister who’s a single mom. She worked nights. If she’d had to pay for babysitting, she’d pretty much be in the hole.” He shrugged. “You know how it is.”

Cass nodded in agreement that she knew ‘how it is’. But in fact, she did not know much about the world from the perspective of financial struggle.

Her father was a congressman from Virginia. Her grandfather had left her a trust fund administered by a unicorn – an honest lawyer who was seeing to her best interest. The man was conscientious about preserving Cassidy’s wealth, but was also fond of her and wouldn’t say no to any reasonable request.

Cass was at odds with her family. Her father fussed and fumed and ranted that she’d cast aside everything she’d ever learned about being a ‘lady’ to be a gods-cursed, war-protesting hippie. He tried to get the Trustee to refuse Cass support until she’d ‘reevaluated’ her choices, but the attorney, who was the same generation as Cass’s grandfather, was resolute.

His response to Cassidy’s dad was, “Nothing in the Trust indicates that she can’t make choices about how to conduct her life. If she was spending recklessly, or attempting to, I would step in. The girl’s not a hedonist. She’s an idealist. And practically frugal. There’s no legal basis for denying her the money her grandfather intended her to have.”

“Frugal? What does that mean?”

“If you have questions about Cassidy’s life, you should ask her. And, this is not legal advice, but I believe that my friend, your late father-in-law, might want me to say that if talking to your daughter is an issue, you have far bigger problems than how her Trust money is being spent.”

Cass’s father hung up on the Trustee. It might have been childish, but it was the last play available to him. Congressman Power liked to win. Had to win. Whether it was in politics or at the dinner table on the rare occasion they’d had dinner as a family. In private, he’d do anything necessary to preserve absolute authority over everyone else in the household, including her mother. He wasn’t above the sort of pouting that expressed itself as both loud and threatening; a display of antics that might seem comical in a skit, but was not funny to the family on the receiving end of venting.

The lawyer was right. Cassidy was beyond his control. Reiterating that in his mind made him clench his teeth hard enough to threaten breakage. He picked up the phone and called her last known whereabouts, left a message for her to call, and tried to get the very important mind of his very important person back to the business of state affairs.

But first, he’d call his assistant in for a quick blowjob. He’d noticed she was wearing bright fuchsia lipstick and, as he’d said good morning, he was already imagining the sight of a lipstick ring that color encircling his cock.

A day later, he was hosting two other lawmakers in his office for coffee and a talk about legislating mandatory seat belts. He knew there’d be serious public pushback and that people would be pissed about the erosion of personal freedoms. So he listened politely, but wasn’t planning to co-sign the bill.

After a perfunctory knock, his assistant let herself in, quietly walked to Congressman Power’s side and leaned down to whisper than his daughter was on the phone saying she’d wait five minutes, that it wasn’t cheap to call long distance, and that she had stuff to do.

Power’s nostrils flared with outrage before he turned his expression to the unreadable version of poker blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to his guests. “I’m sorry. This is urgent. I won’t be gone longer than five minutes.”

The other two congressmen nodded and said they hoped everything was alright.

“I’ll take it in the page room,” Power told his assistant.

“Yes, sir. Line six.”

Power shut the door to the closet-sized office and picked up the phone.

“Cassidy,” he said.

“Congressman,” she said.

Seeing no need for pleasantries such as, ‘How are you?’, Power charged on. “It’s time for you to put an end to this ridiculous acting up. Get on a plane and come home.”

“How could I say no to an appeal like that?” she asked sarcastically.

“What do you want?” he gritted. “A new car? That pink T-Bird?” She laughed. “I find nothing funny about this, young lady.”

“Therein lies the problem, Dad. I’ll call Mom on Thanksgiving.” She started to hang up, but couldn’t resist adding, “If I’m not too high to remember.”

Cass couldn’t help but wonder if Doo was making that up or if he really had been babysitting instead of playing out. She decided to extend an inquisitive tentacle in his direction to find out if he was on the level.

“That was nice of you. Not many guys your age would give up their nights for family.” Doo felt his ears getting pink at the tips and resented that blush like his body had committed a personal affront. He looked down and around. With a tiny breathless laugh, Cass said, “Man. You reallyarea nice guy.”

His head swiveled so that he was looking directly into her eyes again. And there she saw the confirmation of that assessment. Doo Darby was authentic.

“What kind of music do you want to make?”

“Rock music.”

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