there sophomore year because they caught him in the backseat of his car with a boy. They thought sending him to bible college would straighten him out—literally…”
“So he was able to show you the way, huh?”
“I don’t know how he could tell I was gay, but he could. He always can. It’s like his superpower or something. Anyway, he convinced me to go with him to a club in North Carolina. It was far enough away that there was no reason anyone would recognize me. He got us fake IDs and everything. At first, I was terrified, but by the end of the night, I was sold. We went back often after that.”
“And no one ever realized who you were?”
“No, we would put crazy colors in my hair, and I wore colored contacts to change my eye color. That’s how people know me. I’m the blond-haired, blue-eyed, all-American boy. Take away those two things, and I could be anyone,” he said, his voice thick with bitterness.
“Trey, I won’t tell your father anything about your private life. My job is to protect you, not to spy on you. Anything you tell me stays right here, between us. But I need to know everything. If you have any ex-boyfriends. If you have any enemies from school, or from here. If you can think of anything that might help my investigators find out who this guy is, I need to know.”
“There isn’t anything I can think of. I don’t know of anyone who ever recognized me, and I’ve never had an actual boyfriend. There wasn’t anyone I trusted enough to tell who I was, only random club hook-ups. If my father finds out, you know he’ll be furious.”
“He’d probably be even more furious if he knew I’ve never voted for him and that this year I gave money to his opponent's campaign.”
“Yeah, he probably would.” Trey chuckled. “Want to know a secret?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve never voted for my father either,” he said in a stage whisper, and we both started laughing. Once we got ourselves back together, he stood. “I’m going to take a book out on the patio, but if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”
I watched him go until he reached the door and then something hit me. “Hey, Trey.”
“Yeah?” he asked, turning back to me.
“You said one reason you came back was Rebecca. What’s the other?”
He held his hands out to his side. “See this? This is Malcolm Jacob Coben the third, perfect son of the Senator. Have you noticed how people never call him Senator Coben? He’s just the Senator. My whole life, I’ve been taught to behave. To obey. To follow his orders. This is who I was raised to be.” He shrugged. “And if that isn’t who I am, then who am I?”
Chapter 11
Trey
I stood there looking in the mirror. Another day, another rally. I straightened my tie. I was totally going for casual-dress in my next job. I laughed ruefully, who was I kidding? I would be happy to have a job no matter what they wanted me to wear. My mind flashed back to what I said to Roman the other day. If I wasn’t Malcolm Jacob Coben the third, who was I?
It was odd for a twenty-four-year-old man not to have an answer to that question, but my parents had controlled my identity for most of my life. I’d never had my own apartment. I owned no furniture, no dishes. I would be starting completely from scratch. And while, on the one hand, that sounded terrifying, on the other, it was freeing. My future was a blank canvas, and I would be the artist who decided what that looked like, not my parents.
But not today. Today there was another rally, another event where I had to pretend that I was someone I wasn’t. “Someone I didn’t want to be,” I grumbled to myself.
“What did you say?” I jumped, startled, and I swung around towards the door to my room where Roman stood, as always looking ridiculously hot and completely casual. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Wouldn’t that be nice? To have all the answers and have life all figured out.
“You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry, I came to tell you the tea was ready, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Then, why did you?” I knew I sounded crabby, but I’d already felt so exposed with this man without him lurking around spying on me.