Page 35 of Speak of the Devil (New Hope 3)

“Somehow, I think you’re mistaken.”

“You’ll see.”

I ball my fists, release them, and flex my fingers. I just want her to shut up.

“We just want you to be happy.”

Breathe.

“Are you eating? You look thin…”

“I’m fine, mom.”

“Are you feeling all right? You’re home early…”

“I said I was fine.”

“Good. There’s something I need to talk to you about, actually.”

I plop down on the new ugly sofa that has replaced my old minimalist one. Emily would have loved that couch. This one she’d set on fire before she let it touch her precious skin.

“Your father and I have someone we want you to meet.”

“No.”

“He’s in the middle of a campaign, Elliot. We don’t ask you for much. But this—this is important.”

I choke out a laugh. And before I know it, I can’t stop. “You’re not using me as a prop, mom. That ship has sailed, I’m afraid.”

“You just have to have an open mind about these things, Elliot. You’re forty-one years old. You can’t stay single forever.”

I stare at the wall. “I’m not single.”

“Emily is not in love with you,” she says. “You have to move on.”

“Stop.”

“You know how people talk, son. Morals may be more relaxed than ever. But not where politics are concerned. We can’t have people suggesting that you’re a failure.”

On the second day of my mother’s occupation, my father drops by. It’s unexpected, although I should have seen it coming. Nothing my father does is without a plan. He wants to know how the deal is coming, and he says he has someone he wants me to meet.

“We have reservations downstairs in fifteen minutes. Go put on a suit,” he says, and I feel the rage building. I thought he’d meant in the future.

“I’m not up for entertaining. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you. My guess is it was the transients. We really need to tighten our laws on panhandling. I say we buy ’em all bus tickets. Let Houston have them. Better yet, send them to California. The weather’s nicer there. Get dressed, Elliot,” he says.

So I do. In slacks and a button-down, I am by far the most underdressed person at the table.

Friends of my parents join us. Unsurprisingly, their daughter comes too. Shockingly, she is single.

Her father wants to know about the formula I am selling. My mother does all the talking. I spend my time intermittently checking Instalook. My parents apologize for my rudeness in a way that doesn’t sound like an apology at all.

Elliot’s a busy man, they say. In demand, they say. You know how it goes.

The fifth, or maybe it’s the fifteenth time I check, my heart nearly stops. She accepted the friend request. Which means my parents are right—I’m about to get a whole lot busier.

First, I have to get my mother out of my apartment. The best way to do that: Invite their friend’s daughter up for a drink, which is synonymous for sex. It’s a risky move, shitting where you eat. But Emily has just posted a family shot from the beach, so what else am I supposed to do?