"Go on," Michael says slowly.
"It's about Jocelyn… and the baby."
I watch as Michael sits up in his chair, his body erect. The muscles around his mouth are rigid. His eyes look like broken glass and are hinting at violence, but I continue, "her—and I—we—" I'm stumbling, trying to find the right combination of words.
"You can't be serious," he says, cutting me off.
"I love her."
"You don't know the first thing about love," he growls. "You've dipped your dick into anything with two legs and tits. Who are you kidding?"
"You're one to talk—sitting in this house married to a woman you never loved. What kind of marriage is that? It's one of the greatest charades I've ever seen."
"You have no idea the sacrifices I've had to make. Not just for me. For this city. And for you."
I understand more than you think, and Jocelyn's pregnancy—well, that baby is mine, and I plan on being more of a father than you've ever been."
Michael slams his fist down on his desk, flashing his teeth at me. "You ungrateful little prick! I invite you into my house; I feed you, I give you a place to live, I give you work, I introduce you to my network—some of the most influential people in the world—even after you nearly cause WW III with the president's daughter, and this is the thanks I get? You have some real nerve."
"I didn't mean for any of this happen. I swear it on my mother's grave."
"Ha! You should watch what you say. Do you take me for a fool Lance?"
"No, I don't. You're too manipulative for a fool. Even I know that. Let's face it, we're all pawns in your master plans."
“You’re all too stupid to even be pawns,” he snarls at me. I can’t believe there are times when I alternate between thinking of him as Dad instead of just Michael. “You’re all a weight on my feet, dragging me down.”
“You’re the only weight on yourself, Dad,” I say, raising my voice. My blood is pumping. “Maybe if you were more open and honest people would help you more.”
Michael bows his head and rubs his hands against his temples. His body language changes, and he seems resigned. "It's a tough pill to swallow when the world isn't willing to accept you—perhaps can't accept you, or isn't ready to. Do you think it's easy to live a lie? To wake up every day and don a series of masks? No, of course you don't. You've never had an ounce of real responsibility and sacrifice in your life. You don't know the meaning of it."
"I do now," I say, and when it comes out of my mouth, I mean it. "I have a family to take care of."
"I may not have been in love with Jocelyn, but I was good to her. I hope you understand that. I tried. I really did, but then I met Kenneth, and with him, I slowly felt my masks come off."
He stops for a moment and looks pensive, like he's struggling to find the right words.
"There's something you should know about me."
"I think I already do."
"I'm gay, Lance."
Of course, this revelation comes as no surprise. I've known this about my stepdad ever since I was a kid—at least I suspected it. I always saw the way he looked at other men.
"I know," I say.
"You do?"
I nod my head yes as if it's the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.
"Well, you should also know how important this job is to me—and this election."
"I know that too."
His eyes resume their fire and he gives me an intense gaze. We hold the gaze for a few moments, but it feels like it might as well be an eternity, and then he speaks again.
"I can forgive you for sleeping with Jocelyn—with my wife—but I can never forgive you for costing me this election."