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“Oh. Okay.” She laughed to herself. “Mystery solved. Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be into men.”

“Um, what now?” I pulled my chin into my neck.

“I was confused. Since you’re gay. Or I assumed so, anyway.” Talia stopped to contemplate this. “Although I guess it’s not so straightforward these days.” She shrugged merrily and returned to computing.

I stared, flummoxed. I wasn’t gay. Then again, I wasn’tnotgay, either. I’d hooked up with three girls—a rugby player, the homecoming queen, an apprentice at the New York City Ballet—and two different guys from my dorm at NYU. There were other boys kissed, other women flirted with and eyed from afar, but sex was so daunting, and way too intimate, which, yes, I understood was the point. Also, I had PBS, and Freja’s reaction when she was my roommate told the whole story. I was weird. Disgusting. Too much to take. Suddenly, Raj’s find-someone-with-fish-odor plan didn’t seem so wild.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Talia said, “but I need to work. I sold Dad on the importance of meet-the-candidate events, and he wants a list of options by tomorrow morning. Never mind it’s Friday night.”

“Can I help?”

“Ha,” she said, scowling.

“Um. Okay.” I backed up. “I’ll leave you to—”

“Why are you here?” Talia looked up. “In California? You’ve barely done any work—”

“That’s not my fault!”

“And when Dad is finally around to meet, you run off to see a ‘friend.’ Have you gotten him one interview?” she asked.

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but he’s a pretty shitty candidate.”

“Why. Are. You. Here.”

“Ustenya blackmailed me,” I blurted, and Talia’s eyes flew open. “I used Dad’s credit card for some, um, personal expenses, and Ustenya threatened to cut me off if I didn’t join the campaign. The monthly disbursement, the twenty-five-year gift, all of it.” I paused to catch up with my own breath as Talia remained speechless, donning an expression I couldn’t read.

“You’re probably wondering why they deemed it so important to have me here and SAME!” I threw up my hands. “But I’m not merely collecting a paycheck. I want the money, but not for free.”The irony, I thought, when I’d been getting it for free all these years. “It’s why I spend all damned day cold-calling every newspaper on the West Coast. It’s demoralizing. But I keep doing it, because I’m trying to hold up my end of the bargain.”

Sighing, Talia pushed her computer aside. “I appreciate you telling me that,” she said. “And itisdemoralizing, but it won’t last forever.”

“Yeah. He’ll totally have to quit soon.”

“No. I mean.” Talia shook her head. “I’ve spent all week combing through our database, and I see an opening for Dad.” According to Talia, California’s primary system benefited lesser-known candidates, because the top two vote-getters moved on to the general, regardless of party. It was the rare case in which a crowded field and splitting the vote were advantages, for no-names, anyway. “I know he doesn’t seem very compelling right now.”

I snorted. “That’s one way to put it—”

“But he’s not the worst candidate,” she said, and this was also true. Based on what I’d read in the briefing book, the docket was full of immigrant bashers, climate deniers, anti-vaxxers, and moms of “unfairly maligned” January 6 insurrectionists. Therewas a convicted sex offender who promised to fight against “poor people who hate rich people, black people who hate white people, gay people who hate straight people, feminists who hate men, and bratty college kids who hate their parents” and a guy running on a “fake toxic masculinity” platform, though he didn’t say whether he was for or against it. On the other hand, at least these folks had some “key issues.”

“We have a real opportunity here,” Talia continued. “Dad is a blank slate as far as the public’s concerned. He’s not controversial. He’s never been accused of anything questionable in the workplace.”

“I guess...” I said, though honestly, this felt like a close call.

“Here. Check this out,” Talia said, turning the computer toward me. I lowered—cautiously—onto the bed. “San Diego’s coastal communities are deeply blue, but turnout can vary wildly. In Cardiff, for example, only twenty-seven percent of registered voters show up for the primary. But there’s no reason it can’t be similar to Carlsbad, where turnout is as high as eighty percent in some precincts. It’s a statewide election, but the trick for Dad will be to build local enthusiasm first.”

“Wow,” I said, dizzy with the numbers and jargon. “Maybe you should’ve been in politics this whole time.”

Talia wielded one of her face-stretching grins, not even bothering to cover it up like she usually did. No matter how many people complimented her wide, dazzling smile, she was self-conscious about her “jack-o’-lantern face,” probably because in ninth grade, some boy asked if she was related to Terrance and Phillip from the cartoonSouth Park. At first she assumed they thought she was gassy, or possibly Canadian, when actually they were trying to imply her mouth resembled a line cutting her head in two. Talia was devastated, even after Diane insisted that if a person went to such lengths to explain a joke, it was objectively not funny. Unlike when Keith Biglia told me I looked like Lucy fromPeanuts. Everyone understood precisely what he meant.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Talia said, and it was one of the nicest compliments she’d ever paid me. “I know you were forced to come, but I’m glad you want to help. I was depressed during dinner, thinking Dad seems so old—”

“He’s not young.”

“And now I’m downright invigorated. I’m telling you, it’s that Ranch magic.”

I smiled, as in,sure, okay.

“How ’bout it?” Talia put up a hand for a high-five. “Up top for Team Gunn.”