of tension formed in the pit
of her stomach.
“I wish I could deny it. Delvecchio is a master at negative
spin. He could find a way to make Santa Claus look bad.”
“How bad?” Sonnet pushed her plate away and regarded them
both.
Orlando handed her a printout from a political blog. She
scanned the article, horror rising along with the bile in her throat. She stared
at her father. “They’re bringing up your illicit affair as a West Point cadet
with an underage local girl. Of a different race. Which, by the way, is not
exactly fiction.”
The article further characterized her father as a ruthlessly
ambitious career operative who ignored his own child and moved ahead with his
own agenda. At the bottom of the article was a link—Jeffries’s love
child…post-wedding hookups?—that made her nearly gag. How had that leaked?
“All fiction, of course,” Orlando said confidently.
She shuddered with distaste, pushing aside the page. “They left
out the bit about you having horns and a tail.”
“I’m sorry,” her father said. “I hate that you had to be sucked
into this.”
“How will you respond?”
“It’s taken care of. I issued a statement with the truth,
explaining that I wasn’t aware that I’d fathered a child. Once I learned I had a
daughter, I was elated by the gift I’d been given, and I supported you and your
mother to the best of my ability. I’m proud to say you’ve grown into an
accomplished young woman with a passion for service and a bright future ahead of
her.” The hookups notwithstanding, she thought with a shudder.
“Depending on their politics, readers will decide which version
to believe,” said Orlando.
“And if someone contacts me?” Sonnet suppressed a chill of
terror.
“Tell them the truth,” her father said easily. “ Your truth.”
“Sure,” she said, envious of his sangfroid. “Right.” In her
heart, she knew she would gloss over certain key facts—such as the fact that she
used to cry herself to sleep at night, wishing she had a daddy like other kids,
even a part-time daddy. Or the terrific, secret envy she felt toward his other
daughters, Layla and Kara, the dual heiresses to his dynastic marriage. Yes,
he’d married the perfect woman to enhance his career. Sonnet wanted to believe
it was a love match, but sometimes she wondered if his marriage to the daughter
of a famous civil rights leader had been by design or happenstance. Sonnet
wouldn’t say a word about these matters because she could scarcely admit them to
herself. Love had never seemed like her father’s top priority. He shied away
from it, perhaps because it was the kind of thing that couldn’t be controlled,
like a battalion of soldiers or a department in the military.
“I’m a big girl,” she assured them. “I can take care of
myself.”
“There was never a doubt,” said her father. “But again, I’m
sorry.”
An uncomfortable thought struck her. “Did they harass my
mother?”
“I would hope not, but unfortunately, we’re dealing with Johnny
Delvecchio.”
“If he contacts her, she won’t have anything bad to say.”
Sonnet spoke with complete assurance. Nina had always owned her part in the
situation, too, and she’d never expressed any bitterness or resentment against
Laurence. Not to Sonnet, anyway.
The conversation drifted to other campaign matters, the topic
sneaking further away from Sonnet’s big news. She tried not to feel cheated.
This was supposed to be a celebration of her getting the fellowship. Of course,
in the company of her father, she was used to being eclipsed. He had a big
career and a big life, and running for Congress only made it bigger.
Like everyone else in his circle, she admired and respected him
for his drive to succeed. Judging by the things he had achieved in his career,
the propensity was working well for him. He lived a considered and well-crafted
life.
The only misstep he’d ever made was Sonnet herself. She was the
result of a
of her stomach.
“I wish I could deny it. Delvecchio is a master at negative
spin. He could find a way to make Santa Claus look bad.”
“How bad?” Sonnet pushed her plate away and regarded them
both.
Orlando handed her a printout from a political blog. She
scanned the article, horror rising along with the bile in her throat. She stared
at her father. “They’re bringing up your illicit affair as a West Point cadet
with an underage local girl. Of a different race. Which, by the way, is not
exactly fiction.”
The article further characterized her father as a ruthlessly
ambitious career operative who ignored his own child and moved ahead with his
own agenda. At the bottom of the article was a link—Jeffries’s love
child…post-wedding hookups?—that made her nearly gag. How had that leaked?
“All fiction, of course,” Orlando said confidently.
She shuddered with distaste, pushing aside the page. “They left
out the bit about you having horns and a tail.”
“I’m sorry,” her father said. “I hate that you had to be sucked
into this.”
“How will you respond?”
“It’s taken care of. I issued a statement with the truth,
explaining that I wasn’t aware that I’d fathered a child. Once I learned I had a
daughter, I was elated by the gift I’d been given, and I supported you and your
mother to the best of my ability. I’m proud to say you’ve grown into an
accomplished young woman with a passion for service and a bright future ahead of
her.” The hookups notwithstanding, she thought with a shudder.
“Depending on their politics, readers will decide which version
to believe,” said Orlando.
“And if someone contacts me?” Sonnet suppressed a chill of
terror.
“Tell them the truth,” her father said easily. “ Your truth.”
“Sure,” she said, envious of his sangfroid. “Right.” In her
heart, she knew she would gloss over certain key facts—such as the fact that she
used to cry herself to sleep at night, wishing she had a daddy like other kids,
even a part-time daddy. Or the terrific, secret envy she felt toward his other
daughters, Layla and Kara, the dual heiresses to his dynastic marriage. Yes,
he’d married the perfect woman to enhance his career. Sonnet wanted to believe
it was a love match, but sometimes she wondered if his marriage to the daughter
of a famous civil rights leader had been by design or happenstance. Sonnet
wouldn’t say a word about these matters because she could scarcely admit them to
herself. Love had never seemed like her father’s top priority. He shied away
from it, perhaps because it was the kind of thing that couldn’t be controlled,
like a battalion of soldiers or a department in the military.
“I’m a big girl,” she assured them. “I can take care of
myself.”
“There was never a doubt,” said her father. “But again, I’m
sorry.”
An uncomfortable thought struck her. “Did they harass my
mother?”
“I would hope not, but unfortunately, we’re dealing with Johnny
Delvecchio.”
“If he contacts her, she won’t have anything bad to say.”
Sonnet spoke with complete assurance. Nina had always owned her part in the
situation, too, and she’d never expressed any bitterness or resentment against
Laurence. Not to Sonnet, anyway.
The conversation drifted to other campaign matters, the topic
sneaking further away from Sonnet’s big news. She tried not to feel cheated.
This was supposed to be a celebration of her getting the fellowship. Of course,
in the company of her father, she was used to being eclipsed. He had a big
career and a big life, and running for Congress only made it bigger.
Like everyone else in his circle, she admired and respected him
for his drive to succeed. Judging by the things he had achieved in his career,
the propensity was working well for him. He lived a considered and well-crafted
life.
The only misstep he’d ever made was Sonnet herself. She was the
result of a
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