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Laura scoffs, shaking her head slowly. “Because once you leave this place, Rhue will still have to show his face around here, at some point. Maybe he’ll want to have dinner here. Or bring a date. How will he do that after what you just pulled with that poor waiter?”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“A shitbag circus act,” I say, leaning back into my chair while I keep my hands busy with tearing a focaccia slice into smaller pieces.

I pop one into my mouth and start chewing, allowing the rosemary and garlic butter to melt onto my tongue while I appreciate an authentic, clearly handmade snack.

So what if the waiter who served me faked an accent?

That is just a dumbass hill to die on. “I expected more from a guy with your pull in Congress.”

He gives me a rotten, almost hateful look.

“What do you know about my pull in Congress, huh?” He tries to laugh in my face, as if I’m just an idiot carrying his name and genes.

“You don’t have a clue about who I am and what I do.

Not for lack of trying, either. More than once, I have asked you to join me.

Every damn time, you said no. You like hockey.

” He says that last part with a nasal inflexion, purely to make me sound whiney.

“Laura would have been more than happy to be your right hand,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. Alas, it’s not a painful blow. Not to this guy.

“That ship has sailed,” she mumbles, but still we hear her loud and clear.

“A woman has no place in politics,” Dad replies, pulling gasps from both of his progenies. “My money was always on you, Rhue. You know that.”

Laura bites the inside of her cheek. She does that when she’s holding certain reactions or harsh words back. But there’s something in her eyes that tell me she can’t bite her cheeks, or her tongue for much longer.

“I can see why your golf buddies like you so much,” she says, not hiding her disgust. “But don’t worry, Dad, if I ever get into politics, it won’t be to follow in your footsteps.

You’re not fit to be a role model. If I ever get into politics, I will run against and unseat one of your friends.

I will tear your filthy legacy down, bit by bit. ”

It makes Dad laugh mockingly, but I’m impressed. I’ve never heard that kind of fire in Laura’s voice before. This is new and all kinds of wonderful because it tells me my sister has plenty of fight left in her, in spite of her difficult circumstances.

“Yuck it up,” she adds. “The day will come when you’ll regret treating me like this.”

“I honestly hope you prove me wrong,” Dad replies.

“But I doubt it. And the fact that you’re sitting in a wheelchair just makes my point for me.

You will never have a career in politics, Laura.

You’re damaged goods. Suicidal. A spoiled brat who cried for attention and ruined herself in the process.

The press will have a field day with you.

Your potential opponents will eat you alive.

I suggest you consider other paths in life.

You’re still two years away from graduating high school. Don’t rush.”

Laura quivers in her wheelchair. There is so much she would like to tell him.

None of it good, of course. Deep down, she’s just like me.

We’re bound to him by blood, and that’s about it.

This is a public place, however. Too many people would see, and neither Laura nor I would survive the downfall if we embarrass Dad in front of anyone.

I may be a prick, but even I know not to poke the bear.

“Dad, did I mention that I bumped into Madison Willis?” I ask with such innocence that he doesn’t even see the blow coming until it’s too late. For a moment, he stares at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief. I smirk at him. “I guess that’s one name you didn’t think you’d hear about tonight.”

“Where?” he asks, and it’s my turn to chuckle, while Laura pulls herself together and gives me a knowing look. She knows I’m doing this to pull the conversation away from her.

“I thought you two were tight. She never sent you postcards?” I reply.

A muscle ticks furiously in his square jaw. There’s a hint of stubble shadowing his olive skin.

“Where did you see her?” he asks again, and I know I’ll have to answer before he reaches across the table and slaps me silly.

The Madison topic is still a touchy one for the big guy. Good. He deserves a good grilling over that whore.

“They’re taking the same classes,” Laura interjects with a tiny, devious smile. “Anthropology, that is, for a major. Different minors, but they do meet quite often. How many courses do you have in common again, Rhue?”

“Not sure. I’d say sixty percent of all subjects and half of the seminars.” I mirror her expression as we both look at our father.

For the first time tonight, he’s the one who transforms into a wounded animal. This is a good moment for us to kick back and change the subject again, so that he might process what he has just learned.

I’m excited when the starters reach our table.

“Oh, my crostini!” I almost squeal like a little girl, relishing the scowl of discomfort on my father’s face.

I dig in straight away, while Laura leads the conversation elsewhere.

We talk junior year and potentially useful extracurricular activities for her to get involved in even if she hasn’t settled on a college, yet.

We talk Rochester gossip and pretty much anything else that isn’t directly related to Dad, while he scarfs down his appetizer and simultaneously stares at me with a most murderous glare.

“The food here is fantastic,” I say after a few minutes’ worth of silence. “I mean, the starter alone is worth coming back for. Here’s to hoping Ted won’t hold a grudge against me once you’re gone,” I tell Dad. “I’ll probably have to tip him. Considerably. But I think we’ll make do.”

“I’ll take care of Madison,” he replies, worryingly calm. The atmosphere changes inside the restaurant—or maybe Laura and I are simply super receptive to our father’s mood shifts. His rage is often silent but potentially deadly and always practically palpable. “Anthropology like you, you said?”

“You’re staying away from her,” I say, keeping my eyes on the last bit of crostini in my plate. If I look at him now, he’ll know I’m bluffing. “You’re going to forget I even mentioned her name.”

“Excuse me?”

“She got into Cornell on her own. Her father is proud and happy. She’s doing something amazing, and you’re not going to ruin it for her,” Laura says.

To be honest, I don’t have Madison’s best interest at heart here.

Hell, no. A whore is a whore. But Dad would have a field day tormenting her.

I refuse to give him even one ounce of satisfaction here.

He’s not a good man. I cannot let him do harm.

If anyone is going to make Madison miserable, it’ll be me.

“Since when do you give a crap about that girl?” Dad asks Laura.

Before she can answer, I decide to make myself clear. “You’re going to leave Madison Willis alone, and you’re going to keep her name out of your mouth. Your philandering has damaged this family beyond repair. I refuse to give you or that money-grubbing bitch any more of the spotlight.”

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can or cannot do,” he replies, his eyes reduced to black slits that dare me to keep going.

He’s itching for a fight, it seems. I like Il Truffatore too much to get myself banned, though the prospect of sucker-punching him is tempting.

There’s barely anything between us. He’s not as fast as he used to be.

I could just bolt upright and swing out with my left hook.

That’s all it would take. “Last time I checked, you still rely on me, at least financially, since I’m the one paying your tuition. ”

I smile. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Your filthy indiscretion ruined our family. Mom is dead—”

“Roxanne’s problems ran deeper than my fidelity issues,” Dad hisses.

“She never showed any of it to you, of course, because she couldn’t bring herself to drag you into her mess.

But your mother was a troubled woman. Beneath the surface, behind that controlled and neatly manicured facade, your mother was a disaster waiting to happen. ”

“Dad, stop, please!” Laura is so close to crying, it breaks my heart. This isn’t where I saw the discussion going when I brought Madison up.

“Roxanne never knew about Madison,” Dad says. “And that’s the last you’ll hear from me about your mother. It’s a delicate topic for each of us. Rhue, don’t fight me on this anymore. We should be closer and stronger together, not arguing like this over…over a gold-digging skank.”

“I’m not the one who’s arguing. I merely want to make myself clear,” I reply.

“You implied you’re going to do something to her.

My guess is you’ll try to get her kicked out of Cornell or something equally messed up to stop our paths from crossing.

” Ted discretely moves around the table and removes our empty plates, drifting away like a colorless ghost. “None of that is going to happen. You’re going to leave Madison Willis alone.

She wants nothing to do with me or our family, so whatever you said to her seems to have stuck.

Therefore, this is a non-situation that does not warrant your attention. ”

Dad cocks his head to the side. Whenever he does this, I feel like he’s about to kick me in the nuts. Like he’s torn between laughing and breaking my face. He’s a hard man to read, but he oozes danger and determination.

His Latino spirit has helped him elbow his way through business and politics alike.

His biggest mistake was trying to do the same with his family.

I can see past his threatening bullshit.

Yeah, he’s got money and power and whatever--but I am my father’s son, and two can play the wretched game.

“It sounds like you’re giving me an ultimatum of sorts,” he says. “Are you trying to threaten me, son?”

“No, God forbid. I’m merely stating a fact.

If you do anything to hurt Madison, I will make sure the press hears about your affair.

There will be no more dogging and hounding the whore,” I tell him.

“If anything, I’d say she has already paid her dues.

In the end, she was never the problem. You were.

You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants. ”

He’s about to say something, but Ted shows up like a godsend with our pasta plates.

All I can do is smile, knowing that my father is well aware of my inability to sell bullshit.

I meant every word I said. If he so much as thinks about damaging Madison’s academic life, I’ll know, and I will take action.

I’ve got nothing to lose. The sins of the father do not reflect on the son.

The press will sell that in glorious headlines. He’s aware that I’m not messing around.

There will be no more talk about Madison Willis, now.

Dinner will go as smoothly as can be in this dysfunctional and miserable family, but at least the whore is out of my father’s reach. She’s my plaything and no one else’s. Only I get to torment Madison Willis.