The Dirty Ones

She nods. “Buddy system.”

It takes a good fifteen minutes to retrace my path from her house back to my car. And even using my footsteps as guides, it’s not easy. The snow is falling hard. It covers the night sky like a sheet of white.

Kiera brings a small bag with her and checks her mail while I get in the car and turn it on, taking advantage of the fact that the engine is still warm, and turn the heat on while I decide who to call.

Kiera gets in, bag of mail in hand, and then slams the door. “Jesus. Every winter I ask myself why I stay in Vermont. If I was half as smart as I was talented, I’d be writing books on a beach in St. Thomas.”

I smile at her, then look down at my phone. I only have two bars, but it should be enough to make calls.

“Did you make your call?”

“No,” I say.

“Oh. Well, I’m not complaining,” she says, taking off her gloves and waving her hands in front of the heater vents. “You’re right. I’m an idiot for not plowing the driveway. I just figured I’d wait until after the storm was over.”

I’m still staring down at my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Deciding people’s fates,” I say.

“Don’t be dramatic, Con. We all decided our fates long ago.”

“I mean, if I call my committee manager, will he get dragged into this too?”

I think she shrugs. “I dunno. But going on past experiences, no. Because it was just us seven back then and I’m pretty sure it’s just us seven now.”

“Eight, you mean.”

She pauses. Then, “Yeah. Right. Eight.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence after that. And once again, I fucked up. “Sorry,” I say.

“No. You’re right. There were eight of us.”

“It’s just… easy to forget that Emily was there.”

“Yeah,” Kiera says. “And then she wasn’t.”

“Right.”

“Well, I think the consequences of telling no one where you’re at outweigh the possibility that we might inadvertently drag them into our… problem.”

Normally I’d disagree, but I can’t just go missing. Not at this stage in my career. People are looking for me right now. People have noticed I didn’t return to New York. I’ve missed meetings. Hell, I’ll miss more meetings tomorrow morning. But none of that can be helped.

I tap my committee manager Steven’s contact on my phone. Listen to the ring. Then, “For fuck’s sake, where the hell are you?”

“I’m in Vermont,” I say. “Stuck in a snowstorm.”

“Vermont?” Steve bellows. “What the hell? You do realize—”

“I do realize,” I say, cutting him off. I had an important fundraising event tonight. “But I had to go see an old friend in Vermont on my way home from Montreal and there’s this massive blizzard going on, and—”

“Couldn’t this little trip wait until… some other time?”

But there is no other time. Not in my future. My future is running for the Senate. I’m supposed to announce my candidacy any day now and once that happens, the public owns me. “Steven,” I say, entirely out of patience. “I’m stuck in Vermont. That’s all I have to say. Just… let people know I’m sorry and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Tomorrow?” he asks.

“Doubtful,” I say. “It looks like this storm is gonna last through tomorrow. Probably Thursday. So can you just… call my father and handle shit?”

He must hear the frustration in my voice because he says, “Uh… sure, Con. Sure. You got it. Call me tomorrow and let me know you’re OK.”

“I will,” I say, then end the call.

“That went OK,” Kiera says.

“It’s his job,” I say. “He’s paid to be like that.” Then I stare at my phone again.

“Should we call anyone else?”

“Yes,” I say. “We should call Bennett.”

We sit in silence for a few moments.

“OK. Are you gonna do that? I mean, I’m in no hurry to walk back to the house. I’ll hang in the warm car for a while. But we can’t stay here forever.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m just trying to think how I should say this.”

“Oh,” she says. And when I look over at her, she’s biting her lip. She shrugs. “Um… well, tell him to go to the closest bookstore and look at the current New York Times bestseller list. Frankly, I’m surprised you guys didn’t notice it before this. If it’s on the list it’s been out at least two weeks now. The new list won’t be announced until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Right.”

“That kinda makes me sick,” she mutters.

“Which part?”

“The two weeks we didn’t know. Like… whoever wrote it has to have been expecting our reaction. Fourteen whole days they knew what was coming and we didn’t.”

“Same old shit,” I say.

“Yeah.”

I tap Bennett’s contact and he picks up on the first ring. “Vermont, huh?”

“How’d you know?”

“Steven just called me losing his mind.”

“Yeah. I’m with… Kiera.”

“Oh?” Bennett says.

“It’s starting again.”