Page 22 of Hurry Up And Wait
“I can’t fucking do that!” I snapped, losing my shit. I shoved my fingers through my hair, pacing the room. “Fuck!” I shouted, kicking the chair into the wall.
Red let out a low whistle, getting to his feet slowly. “I hate to point this out, but if you react like that in front of the voters, you’re not gonna get the senator’s help.”
Eli shrugged. “Someone might like it.”
“Be straight with us so we can help you. Otherwise, none of this is gonna work.”
He was fucking right. I wanted to shove it aside and pretend like this was one job and then it’d be over, but I knew the senator too well. He’d keep asking for more, and until he got what he wanted, he wouldn’t shell out any information. In the meantime, I’d be losing my fucking mind with every second that passed. If I exploded on the campaign trail, this would all be for nothing.
“You know my brother died.”
“Yeah, gang violence, right?”
I shook my head. “That’s just what the senator wants everyone to think.” I took a seat and recalled the events that led me to fucking hate my own family.
“It started when I was going off to college. My brother Spencer was still in high school and he didn’t exactly get along with my parents.”
“What about you?” Red asked.
“I was…different back then. I complied more. I knew what the expectations were and I went along with the show because I thought that’s what families did. They stood by each other. But Spencer hung out with the wrong crowds and was always getting into trouble. He got hooked on drugs and ended up getting in an accident, t-boning another car. The girl inside was hurt pretty badly and ended up in the hospital for a few weeks.”
“Shit,” Red muttered. “How did the senator handle that?”
“Not well,” I said, flashing back to that night.
“What the fuckwere you thinking? Do you realize what could have happened?”
“I could have ruined your perfect election,” Spencer jeered. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“Listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch, my job is what keeps a roof over your head and food in your stomach. My job is what pays for you to keep up your filthy drug habit!”
I sat in the corner of the room and listened to them trade barbs. It was a mess, and I didn’t have a clue what was going to happen. I didn’t want my brother to go to jail, but that girl was seriously injured.
“I’ll make some calls and have this whole thing taken care of.”
“You can’t do that,” Spencer argued. “This is my life. It’s my responsibility!”
“And you want to go to prison?” Dad shouted.
Spencer backed down, but only for a second. “If that’s what has to happen.”
“No,” Dad snapped. “That isn’t what’s going to happen. I’m going to make this all go away.”
“How are you going to do that? There’s a police report and a girl in the hospital!” Spencer shouted. “I did this! I have to make this right!”
“Yes, you make it right,” Dad sneered. “And then my campaign is over. This house will be gone, along with everything in it. I’ll be sued for everything and probably lose my seat. Your mother and brother will pay the price for your stupidity. Is that what you want?”
Spencer looked at me, his eyes filled with fear. There was no way to win this argument.
“I’ll have her test results changed. It’ll say that she was drunk at the time of the accident and she caused it.”
“What?” Spencer said in shock. “You can’t do that. That girl is a senior. She has a scholarship to a really good school.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you got behind the wheel.”
“Dad, you can’t do this. I’ll take the blame. I’ll put distance between us. I?—”
“You won’t do a single fucking thing,” my dad spat. “You’ve screwed up enough. I should have fucking known something like this would happen.”