Blocked (43 page)

“What?”

He puffed air out his nose. “It helps when the moderator’s on your side.”

I took a deep breath. “I thought Ms. Martins was fair.”

“Of course you did.”

I didn’t appreciate his patronizing tone. “Just how was she biased, then?”

“One measly question on the economy, tucked in near the end. The economy’s the number-one issue for American voters, but she avoided it because she knows it’s a weakness of your mother’s platform.”

Huh
. I hadn’t noticed, but he was right that my mother’s economic plan wasn’t her strongest answer of the night.
Was
there media bias? I thought about that horrid photo of Lucia in the newspaper and her panicked gasps over the phone. I shook my head to clear that memory. “But the moderator did allow you to start and finish the debate.”

“Big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal, with primacy and recency effects.”

A crease wizened his forehead.

“Psychology,” I said. “People remember the first thing and the last thing the best.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He reached for a bottle of water and took a swig. Then he gestured to the loveseat across from him. “Take a seat, Dane.”

I didn’t like him ordering me around, and I felt the words
Fuck off
on my tongue. But then I thought of Luz and reminded myself to take a deep breath or two. Or ten. Once I sat, he sat across from me.

He recomposed his stern mask. “I told Lucia it’s over between you two.”

I recoiled as if he’d punched me. Why hadn’t she shared that with me? My heart rocketed, and my mouth felt dry again. Was she trying to let me down easy? Would she break up with me on the plane ride home?

“That bothers you?” He studied me.

I realized my mouth hung open, and I snapped it shut. “Of course it does! You…you have no right.”

“I most certainly do. She’s my only daughter.”

“And I’m my mother’s only son.”

He nodded. “Your mother knows about you and Lucia.”

“I just told her, and she was much more reasonable than you.”

“Right.” There was that shitty, sarcastic grin again.

What exactly was his agenda here? “Why are you talking to me? You told Lucia to end it, and she always obeys
Daddy
. So why this conversation?”

“Lucia plans to defy me because she has the wrong idea about you. I need you to help her see reality.”

I massaged my forehead. “And what is this supposed reality?”

“You started this relationship to get to me, to my campaign. To learn insider secrets. That’s why your mother invited Lucy to live there in the first place—to set me up.”

And I’d thought
Lucia
was paranoid.
Jesus!
“How dare you cheapen what Luz and I have.
You’re
the politician, not me. I care for her.”

“What’d you call my daughter?” His eyebrows pinched together.

I paused. “Luz.”

“You know the meaning of the word?”

I stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. What was he accusing me of now?

“Luz means light,” he finally said.

“I know.” I nodded. “
Su hija es…brillante
.”

His face changed, either from surprise that I spoke Spanish or that I’d called his daughter brilliant.

“Yes,
espléndida
,” I added.
She’s splendid. Stunning
. Adolf didn’t speak, so I soldiered ahead. “Listen, believe what you want, but Luz and I know what’s between us. And it’s not some bullshit political maneuver. She’s the only reason I’m surviving this damn election, and I think she’d say the same about me. Our relationship isn’t something you can make disappear with a unilateral snap of your fingers. She deserves better than that. We’re both adults now—free to make our own decisions, maybe our own mistakes—but that’s our call, as adults.”

When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its edge. “Your mother approves of your relationship with Lucia?”

I sighed. “She’s concerned we’re too different to make it work.”

He chuckled as he shook his head. “Finally something the senator and I agree on.” He hesitated. “And your father? What does he think of this?”

I looked at my shoes, wanting to hide my reaction to the mention of my father. “He doesn’t know.”

“Where was he when your mother found out?”

I said nothing, just listened to the tick of the clock as I rubbed a scuff on my dress shoes.

“Off talking to his mistress?”

My head shot up as I sucked in a gasp.
Fuck!
Realizing I’d just confirmed Adolf’s suspicions, I closed my mouth and swallowed. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a worse liar than your mother.” He looked away and scoffed. “And I guess that makes you slightly more trustworthy.” When he looked at me again, there seemed to be a hint of kindness in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to the press.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to win that way, Dane. That’s not the campaign I want to run. I love this country, and I want to help, but I promised my wife I wouldn’t lose my soul to win office. My integrity’s not for sale.”

Whoa
. His expression was so fierce that I believed every word. “Where’d you find out about my dad?”

“I hear things.” He shrugged. “I make sure to get the information I need. It’s why I asked Agent Vanderberg to look after Lucy.”

Ah
. That’s how he’d found out about us—Frank had snitched.
Asshole
.

“It’s unfortunate how your father has treated your family,” he continued. “But this is yet another reason I don’t want my daughter with you. What kind of values have you learned in your family, given what your father has done?”

I saw red. “It’s not fair to compare me to my father!”

“That’s not my goal here. My goal’s to protect Lucy.”

“But you think I’m not good enough.”

His mouth pressed into a line. “
Nobody’s
good enough for my
brillante
daughter. You should know that already.”

He had a point.

“I need to talk to Lucia’s mother, think this through some more. You and Lucy together…well, it’s shocked me, and I need to give this time to settle.” He shook his head. “One thing I
do
know: I’m moving Lucia out of that house. I should’ve known better than to let her live there with a college boy. I was your age once—I know where your brain is.”

When he glared at my crotch, my penis twitched.

“Keep that thing away from my daughter, Mr. Monroe.”

His exit was swift, and my mortification complete. Why oh why did I have to fall for a crazy man’s daughter?

Chapter 25

S
HOULD
H
ENRIETTA
L
ACKS’S
F
AMILY
be compensated for the use of her cells in science? Why or why not? Do you believe the Lackses deserve health insurance even if they can’t afford it? How would you respond if you were in their situation?

This English paper prompt was killing me. The blank document on my laptop stared up at me, glaring white in the soft lamplight of Dane’s bedroom. Darkness encroached earlier now that it was November, and the mornings were already colder than Texas winters. It had even threatened to snow on Halloween, which had (of course) been another non-event in our frantic lives. I’d dressed as a volleyball player. Ha ha.

My paper was due on Election Day—just two days away—and I’d barely recovered from the debate a few days ago. Just to get something on paper, I typed:

I hope the Lackses feel proud that Henrietta’s cells have helped so many. If it’s possible for hospitals or researchers to compensate her family monetarily, I support that. But I don’t believe people deserve health insurance or other benefits simply for living in America. I believe we have to work for health insurance. For example, I’m writing this stupid paper to further my stupid education so that I can get a stupid job with stupid health insurance.

Somehow I didn’t think my TA would give this an A.

From where I sat on Dane’s bed, my back leaning against the wall, I had merely to raise my eyes from the blank screen and I could rest them on a more welcome sight: six-foot-eight of muscle and sexy folded into an office chair. The only time he stilled was when he studied, and I could watch him for hours. Realizing my dad would follow through soon on his threat to move me out of the greenhouse, I figured I’d better take advantage of Dane Time right now. The assignment could wait.

He’d angled his chair catty-corner to the desk so he could extend his mile-long legs, and the black chair tilted back as he curled his socked feet over the bar connecting the legs of his computer desk. He frowned as he drew the iPad closer to his face, then a smile broke through. “
Cooool
.”

“What?”

He set his feet down and spun his chair toward me, his eyes alight. “We’re learning about booze in my psychopharm class. Did you know there’s nothing you can do to speed up getting sober?”

“I thought coffee was supposed to help.”

“Nope—all that’ll give you is a hyper drunk person.” He grinned. “Your blood alcohol concentration increases with each drink, depending on various factors. But alcohol leaves your system at a constant rate—point zero one five each hour—regardless of coffee, showering, exercising, whatever. It takes a really long time for your body to process the alcohol.” He pointed to a colorful electronic chart. “You see this? You could go to bed with a BAC of point two and think you’re hungover the next morning, when in fact you’re still drunk!”

He was so cute when something excited him. “You should share your newfound knowledge with Dr. Valentine. Maybe she’d give you extra credit.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkled his nose as he jettisoned the iPad to his desk. “This just became uncool.”

I laughed.

“You had your session yesterday with her, right?” When I nodded, he asked, “How’d it go?”

“Um…” I sighed. “We discussed election night—playing the match or being with my family in Texas.”

“Haven’t decided yet?”

“Nope.” A knot tightened in my stomach.

“Your family expects you to be there?”

“Yep.”

“But your team expects you to be here.”

“That about sums it up.” I clutched fistfuls of my hair as my body tensed.

“Sounds like an impossible decision.” His foot extended to rub my knee. “But I know you’ll do the right thing.”

“Which is?”

His mouth curled into a condescending smile. “If Valentine won’t tell you, I won’t either.”

I shoved his foot off the bed. “So how did
your
session go?”

His smile faded, and he looked down. “Nothing too exciting.” He shrugged. “Family stuff.”

Why had he become evasive? And not just about therapy—there was something else he’d been hiding, too. “You’re keeping secrets from me.”

He looked up. “What’s that?”

“Nina talked to me in the locker room after practice tonight.”

He blinked as he drew back from me.

“Now I know why she’s setting me again. You spoke to her. Smoothed things over.”

He nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this mess more than I already have. It was my problem, so I had to fix it.” His jaw tightened. “I’m sorry my stupidity affected your volleyball career.”