Page 35 of Whiskey Chase
Ihadn’t heard any gunfire or screaming coming from Scarlett’s house since our talk in her driveway yesterday, so I assumed she and her brothers had reached a tentative truce. Or she’d killed them all and quietly buried their bodies in the backyard.
But when Jonah came downstairs the next morning, I figured she had either missed one or they were all alive. She was working on another project today which left me feeling bored and missing her. A McCallister missing a drama queen. I almost didn’t recognize myself anymore. And it wasn’t just the beard I was growing.
I went for another slow, painful jog and spent the rest of my day catching up on work emails. Feeling so removed from my work was a new experience for me. I’d been groomed for politics since elementary school. My father spent thirty years in and around politics. My mother spent that time dedicated entirely to social events and fundraising. I was the next generation of their efforts.
I loved public service. Sure, the lawmaking was tedious to the point of impossibility. And party lines were more like trenches divided by minefields. But it was a noble calling.
When I wasn’t in session, I was a partner in the family law firm. The law was something I’d long been fascinated with, and I missed practicing. But when there was a legacy to build, the wants of the individual didn’t matter.
I stared at the email I’d been ignoring for two days. It was from the family’s public relations rep. Blake was responsible for working with our attorneys to clean up the mess I’d left behind. I opened it and noted that both parents were CC-ed.
Devlin,
I hope this message finds you well. We’ve met with Mr. Ralston, and while he claims he’s still mulling assault charges, I’m confident that he doesn’t want news of your altercation leaking to the media any more than you do.
Things are beginning to quiet down, and in a few weeks, I think it will be safe to have you make a few public appearances. But I do agree with your parents that the divorce should be postponed. Anything that brings attention back to you right now will almost certainly be detrimental to your political career.
Sincerely,
Blake
I closed my laptop and kicked my feet up on the table. I was attempting to enjoy the spring sunshine, the view of the lake. But my thoughts were chaotic. What if I did postpone the divorce? What if I kissed Scarlett again? What if everything I’d worked for my whole life was impossible now?
What if I’d ruined it all by choosing the wrong woman?
“Hey, frowny face,” Scarlett said, skipping up the last of the deck stairs. She was smiling at me, and suddenly my questions didn’t seem so important anymore. “Please tell me you aren’t busy.”
Now she had my full attention. I hooked my hands behind my head and admired the view of her slim legs under short khaki cargos.
“I think I can clear my calendar,” I said with a smile.
“Awesome.” She threw a t-shirt at me, and it caught me in the face. “Is Jonah free?”
My feet hit the deck, and I unfurled the shirt she’d thrown. It said Bootleg Cock Spurs across the chest around a giant rooster head.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” Scarlett grinned. She pushed the deck door open. “Jonah! Get your ass out here.”
“What sport is this?” I asked.
“Fast pitch softball, my handsome neighbor,” she winked.
“I just remembered I have plans.”
“What’s going on?” Jonah asked, poking his head out the door.
“Run,” I said dryly.
“Wait till we get to the field.”
* * *
There wasa moonshine stand at the ball field. Sure, there was the usual concession stand with hot dogs and mushy French fries. But the moonshine stand had the twenty-person deep line in front of it.
“Come on,” Scarlett said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the stand.
Jonah trailed along behind us, the spectator stares weighing heavily on the newest Bodine’s shoulders.
