by Clancy Nacht
“Right, now, just before we head to the break, what will you say to your congressional colleagues when they question this wedding? Many of them are personally against gay marriage, and you’re not just getting married, but you’re marrying a sex worker. What about the sanctity of marriage?” She grinned in such a way that Upton suspected the question was coached.
Upton shrugged. “I find it interesting that people who are often on their third or fourth spouse would question anyone’s marriage. But, because I’m not the sort of monster who would personally attack a colleague in such a way, I’d tell them to give their spouse, whichever one they’re on, my best.”
Diane’s eyes widened as if she was shocked, and then she mugged at the camera. “There’s the Upton we all know and love. On that note, stick around, we have mall makeovers coming up, and just around the corner, which trivet defines you as a person? Thanks again, Upton Bennett and Sloan McInnis, for being here.”
They all stood as the cameras shut off. They shook Diane’s hand, and then Mom ushered them away.
“Good boys, good boys. You did so well. Keep it up until we get to the car, and then you can both go back to sulking at each other.”
Sloan smiled, but his mask slipped for just that moment, the expression full of veiled hostility and frustration. It shattered the illusion anew, though Upton hadn’t let himself be taken in by Sloan’s act. That Sloan could play the role so convincingly was difficult for Upton to live with though. It just made him more embarrassed about how caught up he’d been in the Zane persona.
Then Sloan’s smile relaxed into happy, besotted lines again. He wound his arm around Upton’s shoulders and drew him in close as they passed a cluster of people. He pitched his voice low, meant just for Upton and his mom. “Honestly, all these bloodsuckers can kiss the fattest part of my ass, Mrs. Bennett, but I’m so glad I passed muster.”
“It’s the cost of doing business, dear. This was crucial. Keep it up; you’ll have a real future in this, right?” She patted their backs and broke off to schmooze on the way out.
Upton wanted to speak, but he was at a loss for what to say. He snuggled closer, squeezing Sloan’s side when he got turned around in the winding hallways until they walked out where a small gathering of people and press took photos of them getting into the car.
Mom had taken a separate car so the so-called new couple could be photographed together. Once the door was shut, Upton detached from Sloan and nodded to the driver to take them to the hotel. The good thing about an exclusive interview was that they were done for now.
If this didn’t do the trick, they could potentially have to go on a tour, something that Upton hadn’t mentioned to Sloan, mostly because Sloan kept to the guest room. Upton stuck with his mom and her team, listening with morbid fascination to their plans and speculations.
The bad thing for them was that tonight they would be in a hotel room together, no escape. While Upton could easily shout people down in Congress, one-on-one he was often awkward. The silence was excruciating.
“That went well.” Upton looked anywhere but at Sloan.
Sloan said nothing for far too long, staring out the tinted window at the city. Then, when Upton had given up on Sloan answering, he murmured, “I’m sorry I brought your family into it. It seemed prudent.”
“Yeah.” Upton looked down at his lap. “That was a little over the top. But I know it was personal for you out there. I should’ve let you talk more. I’m too used to speechifying. Instead of me telling everyone you’re brilliant, I could’ve let you demonstrate.”
“It’s all right. I don’t think anyone would’ve believed it anyway. What was I going to do? Recite pi to a hundred places?” Sloan shrugged, but he didn’t look at Upton. “Besides, I’m not the right kind of smart. People would just resent fancy vocabulary words coming from a hooker. They’ll work through their stages of envy and outrage on their own terms.”
When Sloan finally glanced at Upton, it was brief, from the corner of his eye, and then he stared at passing traffic again. “It’s going to take details of the prenup released to the public to ease suspicions of my being a gold digger. That’ll probably never pass entirely. Whatever career I build from here on out will be attributed to having married into the Bennett dynasty, so even when I have my own money, it’ll be perceived as a side effect of your largesse. The most credit I’m likely to get for brains is that I snagged you. Now that we know how the media found out, that a reporter followed me from a party...”
Sloan shook his head, his expression neutral but his body language dejected. “It’ll be speculated I arranged this just to get famous, you know, by people who don’t realize your mother’s the only reason I’m not floating in a bayou.”
“People might. They might still speculate that I locked you down for sex for the price of room and board.” That came out more bitter than Upton had intended, but the comment still stung. “The point is, you can obsess over what people are saying or what they might say, or you can do good in the world. You outshine me and what I’ve done, and no one will remember. I was born into this largesse. I made my own name. You can do it. How you got the platform isn’t nearly as important as what you do with it.”
Sloan shot Upton a wary glance, laughed softly, and then looked away again. “I’ll remember that. Thanks. Sorry to be a whiny baby. I’ll button it up.”
“It’s fine. I just don’t like feeling like a punishment, but I guess it’s what I am.” The car pulled to a stop, and Upton took a deep breath, then plastered on a smile, bright and wide, as he hopped out, then helped Sloan out of the car.
Fortunately, there was no press in evidence, but being in public, Upton knew better than to look like anything other than a man smitten. He held Sloan’s hand as he guided him inside. They’d already been checked in, their bags moved by the team. The key was in Upton’s pocket.
He led Sloan inside, wondering belatedly about the optics of taking a sex worker to yet another hotel, but they were staying the night just in case they needed to do a tour.
They walked through the lobby, took the elevators to one of the upper levels, and walked the corridor in silence to the end. Upton opened the door and gestured Sloan inside, then followed and shut the door.
Sloan walked to the far side of the suite, pulled aside the curtain, and looked out the window. A wry smile curved his lips, and he looked back to Upton for a moment. “Always wanted to hit New York City with a glamorous man. Guess I got my wish.”
He dropped the curtain and turned to look at Upton appraisingly. “What I said about locking me down. I didn’t think that. I don’t think that. I only meant to suggest that the scumbags who felt the urge to threaten my life probably did.” Sloan’s lips twitched again, something like fear flitting across his face before his features smoothed again into handsome impassivity. “You aren’t a punishment. We don’t have to be friends, but we are partners. I’ll try to muzzle my resentment if you do the same.”
It wasn’t exactly an olive branch, nor particularly warm, but it was something, anyway.
Upton nodded. He’d hoped they could be friends at least, but maybe the gulf between them was too great. The situation wasn’t fair, but Upton had long given up on measuring life in what was fair and wasn’t. Was it fair he grew up in the spotlight? No.
But was it fair he was wealthy enough to afford to be, as elites often called it, “eccentric”? Popular acceptance of homosexuality was at an all-time high, but even amongst liberals, Upton could feel the tension. Particularly when he didn’t date anyone, people wondered, often aloud, what did it matter if he was gay?
That wasn’t nearly the sort of discrimination Sloan had endured. His parents had abandoned him, and it didn’t sound like he was close to his siblings. “I just want to make the best of a bad situation if I can. I don’t mean to be dismissive. I’m just hanging on to anything I can so I don’t drown.”
“I can relate to that.” Sloan smiled briefly, nabbed his carry-on bag, and wandere
d over to the couch. He sank down, stretched out, and took off his shoes, tie, and coat, getting comfy. Then he pulled out his laptop and settled in. “It’s obviously awkward, us sharing space all day, unable to really go anywhere without being swamped with paparazzi, so I was just going to pull on my headphones and binge on Netflix for a while. Maybe use the hotel weight room a little later. Objections?”
“Sure.” Whatever Sloan gave lip service to about not seeing Upton as his jailer, he certainly treated him like one. “Have fun.”
Upton would complain, but good would that do? He thought they had plenty to talk about; they were still strangers, after all. The only way to not be strangers was to talk, maybe even just watch movies together, but if Sloan had wanted that, he would’ve offered. Trying to tag on was beneath Upton’s dignity.
He went into the bathroom with his phone and called his mom.
“Hello, dear.” Her voice was comforting, but she didn’t sound thrilled that he’d called.
“This is a huge mistake, Mom. I don’t think I can do this.” Upton closed the toilet lid and sat down on it. His voice echoed softly off the tiles. He’d kept his voice low, but every movement seemed to reverberate.
“Too late for that, Upton. You’ve already announced.”
Upton cupped his hand over his phone and mouth. “We could have a fight, decide that the public pressure was too much for our fragile relationship.”
“And when he goes missing, how would you feel?”
He’s kind of rude and doesn’t like me wasn’t a reasonable point to make against Sloan being murdered. He doesn’t appreciate the sacrifices I’m going to have to make for this to work also didn’t seem to be worthy of a death sentence. “I don’t know. Maybe he’d be happier if he was cut loose where he could make his own choices. We could give him money.”
“Upton Alistair Bennett, that is unworthy of you. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that lest I think less of you and less of your chances of becoming president.”
She was right. That was unworthy of him to think, let alone say. “He just really resents me.”
“That’s not how it looked to me.”
“Right, but that was kind of his job to fake intimacy. If he couldn’t do it convincingly, I don’t think he would’ve gotten far.”
“I guess you’d be the expert on how far he gets.”
Upton walked into that one. “Mom.”
“You remember what I tell you at the start of any of these storms: These things will pass. The sun will come back out, and you’ll wonder what you were so upset about.”
“I guess I thought I wouldn’t be weathering this storm alone.” Upton toyed with the button on his suit.
“I’m here. If that boy isn’t taking advantage of at least being able to pick your brain, then he’s not as smart as I thought. Let me remind you that you were the one who was worried about him in the first place. This was what you wanted.”
“I didn’t think I’d be married off to him. I thought that he could just be… Maybe I could just go into charity work. Leave public life.” He was bargaining, and he knew the answer.
“Oh, Upton, grow up. We have a plan, you want this, and you knew it wouldn’t be easy. You’ll be asked to compromise more than this to get to the higher level. If you don’t have the stomach for this, then serve out the rest of your life in the House. If you’re lucky and slightly more ambitious, maybe we can get you a cabinet position in the future from a president who’s ruthless but lacks star power. Is that what you want?”
“No.” Upton sighed heavily. “I just needed to vent.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, Mom.” Upton paused. “I don’t think I can concentrate on reports. Anything good on Netflix?”
“On what?”
Upton sighed. “Never mind. I’ll talk to you later.”
∞ ∞ ∞
The day crawled by, punctuated by room service, Sloan hitting the gym, and a call from his mother letting Upton know he didn’t need to worry about a tour. Their interview was good enough to tide everyone over until the wedding.
The wedding.
How awkward was that going to be?
But at least the day was over. Sloan was on the couch, where Upton assumed he’d sleep. He was still watching something, so Upton cleaned up and slid into bed without saying goodnight.
A minute later, Sloan turned off his computer and then disappeared into the bathroom. He took what must have been the world’s quickest shower and emerged with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping, seeming unconcerned about all the skin on display. Without a word, he rifled through his bag, dropped the towel, and pulled on a pair of plaid boxers nothing like the sexy underwear he’d worn for their sessions. He bent over to pick up the towel, wound it around his hair, and piled it on top of his head like a turban before turning and meeting Upton’s gaze.
With an awkward little smile, Sloan approached the opposite side of the bed from Upton and turned back the covers. His gaze dropped to the bared sheets, and then he looked back at Upton, measured and calculating. “Not worth the risk of someone noticing something awry in the morning when it’s such a big bed, is it? Promise I’m not a blanket hog.”
“Oh, um, sure.” Upton scooted over, realizing that he’d pulled the blanket up to his chin like a scandalized Victorian. It didn’t help that Upton wore a full set of silk pajamas. He didn’t usually dress so formally for bed, but that’s what he’d packed after their prior conversation had been so strained. “Hoping that no one walks in on us in the morning.”
“Yeah, just seems better safe?” Sloan sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Upton, feet on the floor. He seemed to be grappling with something and then turned his head to look at Upton over his shoulder. “I trust you with this, all right? You’re a good guy, and maybe I don’t know how to... When we got back from taping this morning, I had to decompress. It was... I’d never done anything like that. I was shitting myself, Upton. I just want tomorrow to be a better day.”
Upton nodded and lowered the blanket to a more reasonable place on his body; mid-belly seemed like how normal people might sit. Jesus, was he doing an internal poll on how to behave? “I’m not a good guy. Not all the time. I want to be. I let myself down sometimes.”
He turned on his side. Upton hoped he looked more relaxed, less like someone who was going to scream dramatically and go running into the hall. “Hopefully we won’t have to do it again for a while. We’ll know more tomorrow about how it played. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Do you...” Sloan exhaled noisily, and the mattress dipped and shifted as Sloan slipped under the sheets and stretched out facing Upton. The bed was big enough that a couple feet of empty space lay between them, but still, Sloan seemed so much closer now he was lying down. The white towel on top of his head unraveled against the pillow, spilling out damp, wavy locks.
Sloan gazed at him from beneath the tumult, a soft pout shaping his lips. “I’m not certain I can make America like me, Upton, but I’m going to try. Not for me, okay? It doesn’t matter if the world at large likes me. I’m never gonna run for office. But for you. You being president one day like your mom said... That matters.”
“I’m sure America will love you, Sloan.” Upton exhaled and bloused his silk pajama top, fanning himself. “The thing with the presidency… so much of it has to do with timing and a million variables that we can’t control. When Obama won the presidency, it went entirely against conventional wisdom. There were a lot of people who thought they’d never see a black president in their lifetime, but it happened. And, there’s been a bit of a backlash. But, I guess my point is, the trajectory that my mom and I have planned, it may sound more solid than it is. You’re helping, all right? You didn’t make me call you in the first place. That’s my responsibility. I, more than most people, should be aware of what might happen.”
“I should’ve been more careful. That party... I shouldn’t have go
ne.” Sloan’s brows pinched in over his nose, and he averted his gaze, cheeks blazing red. “That was my fault. You trusted me. I fucked up, and I led the wolves to your door. If this all goes to hell, it’s gonna be me who kickstarted the destruction.” He inhaled sharply and cut his gaze up to catch and hold Upton’s, painfully intense. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Upton.”
Upton rested a hand between them, offering it up for Sloan to take. “You should be able to go to parties, just like I should be able to see a sex worker. As long as I’m not on the job, it’s not really anyone’s business, right? You were a private citizen dragged into this, and that’s not fair. It’s not right. But it is what it is. It’s out there. I accept your apology, all right?”
It was true. Upton couldn’t be angry with Sloan over that. He was upset with other things, but getting caught, that was just Upton’s bad luck.
Sloan nodded and took Upton’s hand after a long moment, folding his fingers around Upton’s and squeezing gently. “Thanks.”
He didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, staring at their joined hands like he could find the answers there. Then Upton realized Sloan was staring at the ring.
“I’m really sorry you’re not marrying someone you love,” Sloan finally said, glancing up from their hands to Upton’s face. “But thank you for... They would’ve killed me.” Sloan licked his lips slowly and shifted a little closer. “You saved me, Upton. I...”
Upton watched Sloan, somewhere between excited and afraid for where this was going. He didn’t want Sloan to feel obligated to be affectionate with him, but Upton also didn’t want to crush something fragile that might bring them a little closer. “I’m sorry you’re not marrying someone you love too. I know this is hard. And scary. I’m afraid.”
He leaned in closer and traced a finger over Sloan’s hand, his thumb resting on Sloan’s ring. “I care. I wish we knew each other better. You seem like the sort of person I’d really like.”
