The Dirty Ones

“Indeed,” Hayes says. “And that’s exactly what it will be. Don’t you see?” he says, putting his drink down and leaning forward, elbows on knees. “They’re setting you up.”

“For what?”

“For failure, Connor.” Before I can respond he leans back and puts up a hand. “Before you say anything else, think about this. OK? You’re gonna run that race. You’re gonna win that race. Because you’re the chosen one in this little group. You’re the one who always falls in line. I’m too unpredictable, especially after I came to my senses a few years ago. Bennett is too dumb”—I laugh—“and I’m not saying that to be mean. He’s too much like Camille. Says the first thing that pops into his head without thinking. He’s a political consultant’s worst nightmare. That leaves you. And if you look back on your life between then and now, you’ll see how it happened. There’s a roadmap, Con. And you’ve stayed in your lane as you drove down that highway. Following it to perfection.” He sits forward again, making sure I get this final point. “They’re setting you up to win and for you, that means you lose. Understand me?”

“Whatever,” I say. Because I don’t feel like talking to him anymore. I just want to go to bed. Go in that room, climb under the covers with Kiera and forget everything that happened since Hayes showed up at Kiera’s cottage.

We could’ve spent the whole day together. Stayed in bed, fucked a dozen times, pretended that book never happened. Pretended all of it was over.

“You know what?” I say.

“What?” Hayes asks.

“I don’t even like politics. I don’t even watch the news. My father has this intern guy called Richie write me up bullet points each morning.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

But he knows why.

“Are you really that spineless?”

“Fuck you,” I say.

“You get one life, Connor. How sad would it be if you lived it based on someone else’s plan?”

I think about this. Have been thinking about it for a long time now. Years. But I never seem to be able to make a decision, one way or another. I just can’t commit to it either way.

“If you can’t find a reason to tell him no yourself, then think about Kiera. Because there’s no way in hell the two of you end up together if you don’t take a stand right now. In three years you’ll be a senator, in ten years you’ll be governor, and in twenty years you’ll be running for president. Is that really how you want to live this one life?”

“I dunno,” I say. “Doesn’t everyone kinda want to be president?”

“No.” Hayes laughs. “Almost no one wants to be president, Con. The only reason people want a job in politics is for the power. That’s it. The paycheck is shitty, the job is shitty, and the constituents are unbearable.”

It’s true. I can’t even argue his point.

Why can’t I make a decision?

“Things happened that night, Connor. Things that were written in that book.” He nods his head to the book. “And I really thought this was gonna be pretty simple. Everyone would show up here, we’d read the book, figure shit out, plan the next move. But for some reason we just all reverted back to the people we were.” He stops to look at me. Like I’m supposed to say something. When I don’t he goes on. “Why do we do that? And I’m not even trying to pretend I’m above it, either. I’m doing it too. Do you know why we do that, Connor?”

I can’t even hold his question in my head. It just floats above me, shimmering like light, then disappears.

“Do you?” he asks again.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Well, I do. And I was gonna explain everything tonight, but I’m not gonna do it without Bennett and Camille.”

Do what? I want to ask. But I don’t. I just sit here and say nothing.

Hayes sighs like he gives up.

“I’m going to bed,” I say. “Where’re you sleeping tonight?”

He juts his chin at Sofia’s door. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Are you going to sleep with her? Or just sleep next to her?”

“I’m gonna fuck her,” Hayes says. “That’s why she’s here.”

I just stare at him.

“Problem with that?” he asks.

“Kinda,” I say, even though I don’t really care about Hayes and Sofia. It just feels wrong. Not how it’s supposed to be.

“I thought you wanted Kiera?”

“I do.”

“But you don’t want to share Sofia, either.” He shrugs. “Fine with me. But if that’s how you feel then you need to go get Sofia out of that room and take her over to yours. Because she doesn’t deserve to sleep alone tonight.”

I wonder if Kiera would mind?

God, what is wrong with me? That’s the dumbest question I’ve ever asked myself.

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing, OK? I’m here because Kiera’s here.”