A Very Dirty Wedding (6 page)

"Yeah, some herbal thing?"  I ask.

He laughs.  "It'll make you shit something fierce.  Don't do it."  Then he looks up at me. "Of course, it might help with that stick up your ass."

"Seriously, I knew you couldn't go two minutes without being a dick."  I step down, and Caulter calls my name.  "What?"  I ask, my voice clipped.

"That's what I'm talking about, Princess," he says.  "You need to get a fucking sense of humor."

"Sure, Caulter."  I turn to walk away, but he calls my name again.  "What?"

"Here," he says.  "You want one?"  He holds up one of those canned espresso drinks, and then tosses it to me.

I pop the top and gulp down the life-saving liquid as I walk toward where he's standing.  He turns his head and blows a trail of smoke to the side.  "That's a disgusting habit," I say.  "You're going to get cancer."

"I give you coffee, and you come over here to lecture me about my hobbies," he says.  "Those are some bad fucking manners."

"Thanks for the coffee."  I take another sip, and look at the empty can by his feet.  "So you're out here mainlining caffeine and nicotine, or what?"

"Gotta have my fix," he says, looking at me, his gaze steady.  "I mean, I prefer a good morning fuck to wake me up."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got the coffee and the cigarettes, then."

Caulter shrugs.  "Let me know if you change your mind, Princess.  I can be ready in five seconds."

"Don't hold your breath."

Caulter finishes his cigarette, and holds up his middle finger.  I follow his gaze out the small front yard to the sidewalk, toward the guy standing on the other side of the wall, his head visible above the brick.

"How long has that photographer been there?" I ask, turning my back and facing Caulter.

"A while," Caulter says, shrugging.  "He was there yesterday.  It's just one."

"Just one?"  I reach for Caulter's arm and pull it down.  "Are you crazy?  What the hell do you think you're doing, flipping him off?"

"Relax," he says.  "They're assholes.  We've developed a routine, this guy and I.  It's like symbiotic and shit.  He takes pictures of me; I smoke and give him the finger.  He's taken enough of me flipping him off, so he's bored with it now."

"Yeah, well, he hasn't taken pictures of me," I say.  "And my father is about to start his re-election campaign.  That's just what he needs, photos of you flipping off photographers."

"Chill the fuck out, Princess," he says.  "He'll snap a few photos of us out here and be done with it.  We're not the real story.  He wants our parents."

I'm used to my father being in the spotlight.  He's a Senator, after all.  But Senators aren't really in the spotlight like this, not with paparazzi in front of the house.  I mean, unless there's some kind of scandal, no one give that much of a crap about anyone except the President.  Being my father's child means carefully staged interviews and photo sessions, not candid shots outside the house.  The fact that Caulter and I are standing out here being photographed at all makes me feel anxious.  And pissed off at Caulter for being so blasé about the media.

"Of course they're interested in us as a story --
you
as a story, you moron," I say, standing in front of him, my hands on my hips.  I feel like a schoolteacher, lecturing him, yet I can't seem to help myself.  "You're the tattooed, chain-smoking, beer-guzzling, train wreck son of the movie star who's marrying my family-values, ex-Marine Senator father.  You're a tabloid headline, standing right here in front of me!"

Caulter looks at me, his face stony and his jaw clenched.  Then he blows a giant plume of smoke in my face, making me cough, and I wave my arms erratically in front of my face.  I think my blood pressure goes through the roof at the act of aggression.  "Yeah?" he asks, leaning forward and bringing his middle finger up in front of his face between the two of us.  "Well, you're the goody-goody, stuck up, boring-ass virgin who's so uptight she can't find anyone to punch her v-card except the manwhore from her school who will screw literally anyone."  He pauses.  "And then turns out to be the most boring fucking lay I've ever had."

I let out a growl of frustration, but Caulter just laughs, which makes me even more upset.

"What are you going to do, Princess?" he asks, leaning forward, his middle finger still up.  He waves it around, inches from my face.  I want to break his fucking finger in half.

Caulter has me so pissed off I can't think.  I just lean forward and flip him the bird, my finger an inch away from his.  We're standing a foot apart, with our middle fingers in each others' faces.  Real mature.  We might as well be toddlers sticking our tongues out at each other.

Then Caulter smiles.  "This is going to be a great fucking photo."

Shit.

CHAPTER FIVE

Caulter

Senator Douchebag slams the newspaper down on the table.  The photo of Katherine and I facing each other, eyes narrowed and lips turned up in snarls, with our middle fingers almost touching, is preceded by a headline that reads:

"HARRISON AND STERLING ENGAGED: CHILDREN FACE OFF!"

Katherine is across from me, her face chalk white.  She doesn't look at me, just stares at the paper like she's completely transfixed.  I have the impulse to take out my phone and get a photo of her reaction, but I think that would be pushing it, since the Senator's face is exactly the opposite of ghost-white.  It's nearly purple.

"It's really a flattering angle, though," I say.  "For me, anyway.  It doesn't do Katherine nearly as much justice."  That's not true.  In the photo, her teeth are nearly bared and she looks practically feral.  I shouldn't be so turned on by that, but I swear as I stand here looking at it, I feel my cock stir.  This is probably not the best situation to display a hard-on for Senator Douchebag's daughter, though.  He looks like he's going to have a coronary.  My mother gives me a look, and I'm almost concerned she's going to cut out my trust fund right now.

"Caulter," Ella warns.

"What the hell were the two of you thinking?"  The Senator brings his fist down on the table, causing the paper to bounce, his voice booming.

I glance at Katherine, but she still doesn't look at me.

"Honey," Ella says.

"It's not as bad as it looks, dad," Katherine speaks, her voice soft.

"Not as bad as it looks?"  The Senator clenches his fist again.  This dude seriously needs to do some meditation or some weed or something.  Like,
whoo-sah,
man.  If he weren't talking, I wouldn't believe he was even taking a breath.  "Tell me, how
exactly
do you think it looks for the daughter of a United States Senator to be on the front page of the newspaper, directing her middle finger at the son of his fiancé?"

Probably better than for the headline to read
Senator's children fuck around
, I think.  But I hold my tongue.  Mentally, I congratulate myself for my superb act of self-control.

Katherine surprises me by speaking.  "I mean, really, it's not the front page.  It's the front page of the social section.  And it's the
Post
, so..."

I hold back a laugh, but not very well, so it comes out more like a snort.  The Senator turns his gaze toward me.  "And you.  You think this is funny?"

I roll my eyes.  "Look.  It's an article in the paper.  It's not the end of the fucking world."

He crosses around to my side of the table, and I stand there, only because I can't really believe this guy is actually about to lose his shit, especially over something like this.  I can think of at least twenty more scandals I've been involved in that are worse than this blip on the radar.  It's when he grabs me by the collar of my shirt that I start to actually get pissed off.  "Not the end of the fucking world?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.  "You arrogant little shit.  Your mother might cut you all the slack in the world, letting you piss away her money on clothes and drugs, but you don't come into my house and --"

I push his hands off me.  "You want to get into it, Pops," I say, disgusted.  "Let's go."

"Stop!"  Katherine yells the words.  Yells.  The sound of her yelling is so startling that her father looks at her, open-mouthed.

"What did you just say?" he asks.

"I think we all need to calm down here," Ella says, standing at the far end of the table.  "Ben, Caulter is not your child, he's mine, and I'll thank you kindly to not - "

"Oh please, Ella."  I hold my palm up.

"I don't want to hear you refer to your mother by her first name like she's one of your friends," the Senator booms.

"It's a good thing you don't get a say in the matter then, is it?" I ask.  "Since I'm not one of your employees you can order around."

"Ben!" Ella says.  "I
said
, this is my child. Caulter and I are informal.  And it's not your call to step in and change that."

"Your
child
is an adult," the Senator says, his voice louder now.  "Not a kid.  And it's time to start treating him like an adult.  Both of you are adults and - "

Katherine yells again, her hands over her ears.  "Jesus
fucking
Christ," she screams.

"Katherine Eva Harrison," the Senator said.  "You will not take the Lord's name in vain in this house."

"I can't listen to another second of arguing!" she yells.  "Yes, Caulter and I flipped each other off.  Yes, it's in the paper.  Yes, it's a PR problem.  I'm sorry your engagement was announced this way.  But if you want to talk about being selfish, we can talk about being selfish.  You left like a bat out of hell after graduation to get back to work -- and by work, I'm assuming you meant Ella.  You didn't think that maybe you should, oh, I don't know, give me any kind of heads up that you were getting re-married?" Katherine asks, her voice growing more high-pitched.

I step back, crossing my arms over my chest, not even bothering to hide the smile I can feel tugging at the corners of my mouth.  I didn't think daddy's little girl had it in her.  I can't believe I'm listening to her tell off her father.

"I thought you would prefer to hear something like that at home - " he starts, suddenly on the defensive.

"Yeah, dad," she says.  "I totally want to walk in the door to the house to see the three of you standing there.  I'm sure that's how they tell you to do it in all the parenting books.  Make sure you choose a setting for maximum impact, right?"

"I made a decision that I thought was most appropriate for - "

"You've been keeping this entire relationship a secret!" Katherine yells.  "Do you understand how big of an asshole you're being?  You're about to punch Caulter in the fucking kitchen!  You don't see the irony here?  Mom would
hate
the person you are - and you know it."

At the mention of her mother, it's like all of the air is sucked out of the room.  The color drains from the Senator's face.

Katherine keeps going.  "You're bringing them - "  She doesn't look at me, just points the direction of me and Ella.  "To the summer house, to our house.  To her house."

"She's dead!"  The Senator yells.  "Your mother has been dead for four goddamn years!"

"I can't talk about this," she says, shaking her head.  She looks at the Senator with disappointment etched on her face, and brushes past me without a glance.  I stand there for a minute, the silence in the room lingering.  The Senator leans over the table, both palms flat, his head hanging.  I'm irritated with him, but I feel badly for Katherine.

Ella looks up at me, her expression pained.  "Caulter - " she starts.

I cut her off before she can say whatever the hell it is she has to say.  "Fuck this shit," I say.  "I'm out."

I take the stairs two at a time to the bedroom where my wallet is, but I'm honestly wondering if Katherine has left yet.  I hit my room first and grab my wallet and my smokes, pausing when I reach her room.  Her door is open about an inch, and I stand there for a few seconds, deciding whether or not I want to say anything.  Then the door is yanked open, and she looks at me with surprise.

For second, I think she might be pleased to see me, but she sighs audibly and shakes her head.  "Seriously, Caulter, I don't need your bullshit right now.  I'm not in the mood.  I'm on my way out."

"Want some company?"

Her eyebrow goes up.  "Are you fucking kidding?"

"I'm not being a prick.  Really."  I feel defensive. 
I'm not a dick all the time,
I want to say.  There's something about her that just seems to bring it out of me.

"That's a first," she says.  "What, you want to have some brother - sister bonding time?"

"I want to get out of here," I say, my tone noncommittal.

"Fine."  She slings her bag over her shoulder, and I follow her out the front door.  Beyond the front gate are three photographers this time, smoking as they loiter, and they stand quickly, aiming their cameras at us as we approach.

Katherine swears under her breath as we walk out.  "Don't they have anything better to do?"

"Caulter, Katherine -- do you really hate each other?  Do you have a comment for us?" 

"Mind your own business," she says.  "Seriously.  Look, we're standing right here, aren't we?  Why don't you take a photo of us together,
not
killing each other.  We're
friends
.  That's my comment."

I slip my arm around her shoulder.  "Smile for the cameras."  I give a thumbs up and Katherine looks over at me, finally breaking a smile before making a thumbs up as well.

The photographers roll their eyes, and we turn and walk briskly down the sidewalk for two blocks before either of us says anything.  Then Katherine laughs.  The sound is light, melodic.  I look at her because I don't think I've heard her laugh -- not a genuine laugh -- in two years at Brighton.  She's snarky, yeah, but she's so damn serious at school.  Once she starts, she can’t stop, doubling over as she laughs, big laughs from her belly, until she has to wipe tears from her eyes.

When she stops, she looks up at me.  “What?” she asks.  “You’re staring.”

“You’re the one standing on the sidewalk laughing like a crazy person.”

“My dad is going to hate that photo, you know” she says.  “I think we're supposed to wait for a staged media thing.  His PR person is going to have a lot to say about it.”

I shrug.  “I guess I don’t give a shit about your fucking dad.”  We’re walking, but I don’t know where.  I pull my pack of cigarettes out and she gives me a look.  “You want one?”  I ask.

Katherine shakes her head.  “Why don’t you just go back to Hollywood or wherever for the summer?  My father will make up some reason for you not going to New Hampshire, a reasonable story for where you are.  You don't want to put up with his shit all summer, do you?”

“Trust fund,” I say.  “Ella’s holding it over me.  Is it true the house in New Hampshire is your mother's house?"

She shrugs.  "It was her favorite place.  We lived in a farmhouse in Loudon when I was a kid, but he sold it for the lake house, since he was going to DC during the rest of the year.  But my mother loved New Hampshire, so even though we were only there in the summer, it was her place."

"And he's bringing Ella there," I say.  "It's kind of a dick move."

"It's whatever, you know?  Not a big deal."  I can tell she's lying.  "Ella seems okay.  I mean, it’s weird that you call her by her first name.”

We’re standing near the entrance to the Metro.  “You mean, instead of mommy dearest?” I ask.  “Where the hell are we going, anyway?”  I’m jonesing for a smoke even though it’s only been like ten minutes since my last.  Katherine makes me feel edgy.  Or, rather, I feel edgy because of how it felt to have her standing beside me, with her arm thrown casually over my shoulder.  That, and maybe I'm irritable because I haven't been laid now in ten fucking days.

"I don't know," she says.  "I was just getting out.  I didn't have any plans."

"You don't seem like the spontaneous type," I say.  "And I don't have to go to your mom's house for the summer, you know.  If it bothers you."  I offer her a half-hearted out, even though what I really want to know is whether it bothers her that I'm going.  I want it to bother her.

"What do you know what type of person I am?" she asks, wrinkling her nose.  "I
said
it's not a big deal.  I don't want to talk about her."

We get on the Metro, going who knows where.  We're talking, about regular bullshit, nothing heavy.  She seems to be less irritated now, and she's laughing at the stories I tell her about some of my mother's friends, Hollywood celebrities, and how our little middle-finger photo is small potatoes compared to the real scandals.  She's laughing, and it sounds nice.

"Where the hell are we going?" I ask, when we get off a stop.

Katherine shrugs.  "No plans," she says.  "Just getting the hell away from the house.  Do you have better plans?"

I hold up my hands in mock surrender.  "Whatever you want, Princess."

She ignores me, and we walk for a while until we get to a park.  I don't know jack about DC, so I've got no idea where we are -- New York and Hollywood, those are the places I know.  But she seems to have some idea where we're going, and I'm following her lead because she's not as awful as I thought she was.  We're actually getting along, and for the first time since I've known her, it's pretty comfortable to hang out with her.

"You're not so bad, Princess," I say.  "I mean, for a stuck up bitch."

She laughs.  "I can't believe you just called me that."

"Bitch?" I ask.  "You know I'm joking.  Not about the stuck up shit, though."

"Do people think I'm a bitch?" she asks.

The honest answer is yes, but I shrug.  "Who cares what they think?"