Dating Washington (Discovering Me #2)

by Ann Maree Craven

  Nicky looked to Kenny in sympathy, as if he finally understood why Kenny took the actions he had in their closeted relationship—why he never fully gave himself to Nicky.

  But Kenny didn’t want sympathy. He needed Nicky to hate him for his mother’s words, to despise him for his inaction.

  Victoria Montgomery wasn’t finished. “Your lifestyle is unnatural. I won’t let you bring my son down with you.”

  “Mom…” Kenny couldn’t get another word out.

  His mother didn’t even look at him. “My son is a good boy. And you attacked him.”

  Gasps rang out around them. Kenny wanted to yell at everyone present. Nicky didn’t attack him. If anything, it was the other way around. Kenny had gone to Nicky’s house, hoping to get back together. He’d initiated the kiss beside the pool—just as he’d initiated a thousand kisses with Nicky before. How was he to know the paparazzi were lurking around the St. Germaine property?

  And still, Kenny’s lips remained clamped shut. Sweat dotted across his brow. He’d never truly feared his parents, not until then. Nicky didn’t deserve this, but who would be there for him? Becks was still up on stage, oblivious to the verbal beating his boyfriend suffered. And Kenny… well, he was a coward.

  A tear slid down Kenny’s cheek. His mother finally noticed him. She raised her voice when she addressed Nicky again. “Look at my son. You’ve destroyed him. You’re a vile human being.”

  Nicky’s eyes watered as he took in the crowd. Kenny wanted to go to him, to tell him he was sorry. But his legs wouldn’t move.

  “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to my son.”

  6

  Asher

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Montgomery.” Asher stepped between Nicky and the woman bullying him. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds like you’re threatening one of my guests.” Asher’s heart thudded in his chest. He should not be doing this, but someone had to step in and put these assholes in their place.

  “Your guest has a history of harassing my son.” Victoria Montgomery’s face turned red with rage.

  “Kenny seems fine to me. A bit embarrassed by his mother, maybe, but I’m embarrassed by my parents all the time. What kid isn’t, am I right?” He tried to make light of the situation. “But seriously, I know Nicky St. Germaine pretty well, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  “He assaulted my—”

  “I know what the tabloids claim and I’ve heard the rumors. Everyone here has, ma’am. And everyone here also knows that ninety-nine percent of what they publish is garbage.”

  “Are you calling my son a liar?”

  “Definitely not. I don’t recall Kenny ever saying a mean word about Nicky, but that’s not the point here, is it? You’ve verbally attacked one of my closest friends, who happens to be gay, like me—and we all know how you and your husband feel about that. You don’t have to like us, but you should give us the common courtesy of treating us like human beings.” Asher took Nicky’s hand in his. “Whatever happened between Nicky and Kenny is between them. Respectfully, Mrs. Montgomery, it’s none of your damn business.” Asher turned, dragging a stunned Nicky behind him.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Nicky whispered, “but thank you.”

  “I don’t have very many friends, so the ones I do have are really important to me.” Asher cast a nervous glance at the bystanders. “But I probably just made it worse.” He’d seen more than a few phones out during the scene he’d just caused with the senator and Mrs. Montgomery. No doubt it was already making its way onto social media.

  “Well, it’s not like either one of us hasn’t been there before. But Kenny can’t take another stint in the media circus. It’s really getting to him.”

  “You’re defending him? He’s telling people you assaulted him.” Asher couldn’t see how Nicky could be so kindhearted.

  “There’s a lot more to it than that. Kenny’s struggling to find his way, and his parents don’t make that easy. He needs friends he can count on.”

  “You’re a good guy, Nicky.” Asher dropped his hand, aware of all the eyes on them. If he were totally honest with himself, he had a bit of a crush on Nicky. What he wouldn’t give to find someone like him. A nice guy with a good heart and no drama.

  “Hi, Nicky,” Asher’s dad approached them.

  “Mr. President, sir.” Nicky’s cheeks flushed pink. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

  “Please call me Bennett, all of Asher’s friends do.” Asher choked back a laugh. Harper was the only one who called his parents by their given names.

  “Of course, er…Mr. Bennett, sir.” Nicky’s hand trembled as he shook the former president’s hand.

  “That’ll do, I suppose.” Asher’s dad laughed. “I apologize for Senator and Mrs. Montgomery. There’s no excuse for their behavior.” He laid a comforting hand on Nicky’s shoulder. “You’re our guest, and you shouldn’t be subjected to that kind of hate—anywhere in this country, least of all the White House.”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Bennett. I’m used to dealing with jerks.” Nicky tried to shrug it off. He’d certainly dealt with his fair share of media attention and the slander that inevitably came along with it as Beckett Anderson’s boyfriend.

  “No, it’s not okay, son. It’s never okay for someone to treat another human being with such hatred. We should be setting a better example for your generation.” The former president sighed.

  “We’ll get there one day, sir.” Nicky cast a glance back at the hate-filled senator who was supposed to represent him and the state of Ohio.

  “It shouldn’t be this hard to teach people not to hate,” Asher added. “Grown-ass adults should know better.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Bennett said. “Mind if I have a word with my son?” He turned to Nicky. “I believe Beckett will be off stage soon, and he might need some—”

  “Adult supervision,” Nicky supplied with a grin. “I’ll catch you later, Ash.” Nicky turned to leave.

  “Sorry, Dad, I know—”

  His father held up a hand to stop his apology. “I get it, Ash. Your friend was in trouble, and no one was there to defend him. As a father, I could not be more proud of you for standing up for Nicky. But we’re a political family, son. Your mother is the president of the United States, and our behavior reflects on her. Next time, alert one of the secret service agents to the situation and let them handle it.”

  “Right, right.” Asher nodded. He knew this speech by heart. He’d heard a version of it his whole life. He couldn’t remember a time when one of his parents wasn’t the president or running for president. Asher didn’t know a world where he was free to just be himself. He wondered if anyone realized he had no idea what it was like not to live under a microscope with secret service agents guarding his every move and every little thing he said and did ending up in the media.

  “It’s okay. I’ll smooth things over with Senator and Mrs. Montgomery. You just go enjoy your birthday and be more careful about what you say next time.” Asher’s father walked away, leaving his son feeling even worse than he had before.

  Would he ever know a life outside the presidency? Outside of Washington and politics? Asher scanned the crowd around him, looking for a friendly face. There were lots of them, but none he cared to approach. “My birthday party and I know like four people here.”

  “Ugh, I know that look.” Harper handed him a champagne glass filled with sparkling water. “I wear that look myself at these things. Come on, chug that and let’s dance.”

  “I don’t want to dance.” Asher knew he was sulking, but he didn’t care.

  “Your boy, Beckett, is almost done performing. We have to dance. It’s, like, impolite not to dance when your friend is singing at your birthday party.”

  “Fine.” Asher guzzled the sparkling water that turned out not to be sparkling water at all. “Dad will kill me if he saw that.”

  “It was water.” She gave him a wink. “That’s all Papa POTUS nee
ds to know.”

  Asher let her drag him on to the dance floor where everyone watched them, cheering for the birthday boy who would literally rather be anywhere else than in the spotlight.

  “There he is, ladies and gentlemen,” Beckett said in his exaggerated announcer’s voice. “The man of the hour himself, Asher Brooks! I’m singing ‘Happy Birthday’ for you before I leave this stage, kid, so don’t go anywhere. Harper, sit on him if you have to.”

  “I’m your girl, Becks!” Harper shouted, holding Asher’s hand in a death grip.

  “This one’s for you, Valor.” Becks shot him a wink as he started up Asher’s favorite song, “It Is What It Is.” It was a fun, upbeat song with such complex guitar playing, few could pull it off, but Becks made it look easy.

  Asher was normally a wallflower, preferring to stick to the shadows by himself, but there was one thing he loved about these events, and that was dancing. On a crowded dance floor, he didn’t have to worry about people watching him or studying his every move. He didn’t have to worry as much if he ended up in a video on someone’s social media feed because he was actually a pretty good dancer. And Harper was even better.

  People called them the perfect couple despite the fact Asher was gay. With her short curly hair in a wild mess, threaded with feathers and subtle blue highlights, she was a fashion icon herself. Her dress was modestly short but brightly colored with a flouncy skirt and chunky jewelry. She dressed like no one else, funky with a hard edge but always fashionable. There were fashion bloggers who stalked her for tips. He supposed his stylists dressed him to compliment her style since they spent a great deal of time together and that made people want to see them together. He loved Harper and was happy to have her in his life. He just wanted more than a best friend.

  “Loosen up, Ash.” Harper moved with him to the beat of the music. “It’s your birthday, try to have some fun for once. It’s not every day we get serenaded by Beckett Anderson.”

  “We?” He laughed at the star-struck look on her face. “You’re right.” Asher smiled, and for the first time that night, he relaxed and enjoyed himself. Part of it was the dancing, part of it was having Becks on stage, and part of it was likely the champagne he’d chugged. It wasn’t his first time drinking, but champagne tended to hit him hard, and he’d always promised his parents he wouldn’t be seen drinking openly at these events—at least not until he was twenty-one. Asher really hoped by then these parties wouldn’t be such a big part of his life anymore.

  “That was fun!” Harper clapped when the dance was over and Beckett prepared to finish his set. “You know I love you right?” She took his hand, slipping a small giftwrapped present into his hands. “Do NOT turn this in as a gift of State. It doesn’t qualify because it’s something stupid from your bestie.”

  “Thanks, Harp.” He threw his arms around her as they stood with everyone else near the stage. As Becks sang “Happy Birthday” a cappella, Harper whispered to him, “I’m going to head out early and let you hang out with Becks and Nicky for a change.”

  “You don’t have to do that. They’d love to meet you.”

  “And I will. Next time. Go hang with your people. You have Harper time every other day of the year.”

  “Harper time?” Asher smiled, watching the way Becks worked the crowd with just his voice.

  “Yes, and you’ll have me back all to yourself soon. Go try to enjoy your birthday.”

  “Love you.” Asher hugged her tightly.

  “Love you too, you sad little mess.” She gave him a playful shove as she slipped away through the crowd.

  “Happy birthday, Ash,” Becks called from the stage. “We love you, kid.” Becks cheered with the crowd, wishing him the happiest of birthdays. Asher shoved his hands in his pockets and pasted on his fake-confident smile for the crowd.

  He waved and smiled, leading the audience in a cry for an encore from Beckett.

  As Becks started up with his band for one more song, Asher managed to slip away, seeking a moment of solitude. He was going to explode if he didn’t get two seconds to himself soon.

  He appreciated Harper’s gesture, letting him have the rest of the night with Nicky and Becks since he didn’t get to see them as often as he’d like. But at the same time, she was his buffer against the stares.

  Asher walked past the bar, grabbing a bottle of champagne on his way toward the balcony. It was his eighteenth birthday, if he couldn’t have his Prince Charming and a party of his own choosing, then he at least deserved some alone time with his thoughts and a little liquid courage to get him through the rest of the night. He was beginning to think his Prince Charming was lost somewhere, refusing to ask for directions.

  7

  Kenny

  The cold November air slapped Kenny in the face as soon as he stumbled onto the promenade balcony that wrapped around this end of the White House. Below, secret service agents patrolled the perfectly manicured grounds.

  Tapping the open champagne bottle he’d snagged from a table near the door against his leg, Kenny stepped up to the railing, disgust washing over him. No, not disgust for who he was. At least this time.

  Disgust for what he’d done—or hadn’t done. Nicky’s shocked face would be forever burned into his brain. Why couldn’t he be a better friend, a better man?

  Why did he let his parents control every aspect of his life?

  Because he’d never known another way.

  “You’re spineless, Kenneth Montgomery.” He let his own words break the silence of the night. It wasn’t the first time Kenny let his sense of self-preservation get the better of him. He’d treated Nicky like a horrible secret for the entire two years they’d dated before finally dumping him for a girl—at least that was what Kenny made him believe.

  Lifting the bottle to his mouth, Kenny took a swig, letting the dry champagne burn his throat. He needed more, anything to make him stop feeling like such a failure. He failed his parents by being something they hated. He failed Nicky by freezing instead of defending him.

  And he failed himself for refusing to accept such a gigantic part of himself.

  After another gulp of too-expensive-for-gulping champagne, Kenny lifted his hand to his forehead, forming an L with his thumb and index finger. That’s what he was.

  “What are you doing?” A familiar voice interrupted the silence of his sanctuary.

  Kenny quickly dropped his hand and lifted the bottle against his lips instead of answering Asher.

  Asher stepped up beside him and held out his own bottle of champagne with a laugh. “Great minds think alike?”

  Kenny only shrugged. Once, he’d confided in Asher Brooks about everything. The president’s son was the only person who knew how hard living in Preston and Victoria Montgomery’s house really was. But that was before. Before the First Son came out as gay, sparking a nationwide debate many had thought long dead.

  Before Kenny chose the wrong side in that debate.

  Before their friendship became a political casualty.

  “I don’t for a second think you consider me to have a great mind.” It was the kind of joke Kenny would have once laughed at. Instead, he said it dryly with no humor, only truth.

  Asher rolled his eyes. “Look, I just came out here to get away from the masses.”

  “You mean like my mother?” Her words to Nicky still rang in his ears.

  “And every other person who looks at me like something is wrong with me. Sorry, Ken, but you’re the lesser of two evils right now, so I’m not leaving.” He blew out a breath. “Besides, this is my balcony.”

  “You own a balcony?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  One corner of Asher’s mouth tilted up. “Real mature.”

  Kenny shrugged and took another drink, enjoying the warmth spreading through him. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Dinner will be served once Becks finishes his last encore.”

  “And they won’t miss the birthday bo
y?”

  Asher ran his free hand through his natural hair. “My parents probably will, but no one else really cares what I do.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “What?”

  “Everyone cares what you do. It’s why your face is constantly plastered across the tabloids.”

  “Seems you and I are the same in that.”

  Kenny wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  Asher studied him for a moment. “Seems like the paps like you just as much as me these days. Conservative senator’s son caught in a lip lock with another dude. Bet your dad hated that.”

  “Why are you talking to me, Ash? We aren’t friends.”

  Asher rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip. “Want to get out of here?”

  It was on the tip of Kenny’s tongue to say no. Asher had every reason to hate Kenny, and it only made Kenny feel worse. He flicked his eyes to the door. On the other side, the sycophants and narcissists of Washington were sitting down to eat.

  “Yeah.” Kenny took another drink. “Where can we go?”

  “Follow me.”

  They slipped into the back of the banquet hall, and Asher motioned to a secret service agent Kenny recognized as Danny. He’d been guarding Ash since he was young.

  “Danny.” Asher eyed his agent. “We’re getting out of here, and I don’t want you to argue.”

  “It’s your party, kid.” Danny folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m aware. Either we’re sneaking away without you or I allow you to do your job if you tell no one else.”

  Danny sighed, sounding for a moment like a tired parent. “Fine. This better not be dangerous, Asher.” His gaze caught on the bottles of champagne they both carried. “And you better not get me fired.”

  “We won’t. Promise.” He nodded to Kenny. “I’ll be right back. I need to find Becks.”