Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,9

I may not be ready for this. I may not even be the best person for the job.

But I’m here, and the people at my camp need someone who can fight for them.

If I don’t chicken out, I can be that person.

At my hesitance, Sloan slides into the backseat beside me, shutting the door while my father’s voice booms into the megaphone.

Yes, Daddy now travels with a megaphone, so he can broadcast his enhanced gift of persuasion to the masses.

Sloan’s got his calming tone in full effect, because he knows my nerves are jumping. “Your dad is telling everyone to make sure they don’t draw any weapons, to give you their very best open hearts, and that the Sins of the Father bill is a corrupt law that needs to be torn up. The usual.”

That’s why we have so many supporters. “I guess him controlling people so I don’t get shot is a good idea. Can’t fault him for that.”

“No, but I can see you’d like to. Do you want to go over your speech again? He might prattle on for another minute or two.” He jerks his thumb toward where my father is standing just outside the car. “Are you ready for this? He’s not going to like that you’re getting out from under his weight.”

I wipe my sweaty palms on the tops of my thighs. “I’m not the right person for this. Paxton is far more used to addressing the public.” I look over at my best friend and deliver the hard truth. “I’m not the right person for this job. I’m not an activist. I help sell lingerie. What right do I have to tell other people what to do?”

Sloan tilts his head at me. “Are you telling them what to do? Or are you leading, regardless of who follows? If you want to get where you want to be in life, you have to go there, regardless. You have to go there because you can’t not. You’ll feel unsettled in your spirit if you ignore your destiny.” Sloan’s words tether me and push me just enough to capture my doubts and hold them at bay. “You have a right to your convictions, Arly. You have a right to your voice.”

His advice hits me like a gong, smashing into my breast. Even though I’ve heard him tell me this truth before, right now, I feel it that much more.

I have a right to my voice.

The sudden wave of confidence is too much, so I take a mental step back from the invisible fence I’ve always accepted. “I’m not the right person for this job,” I repeat, my nerves swarming back in a rush.

Sloan’s smile crooks, like he was expecting me to say something like that. “You’re right. Paxton has loads more experience. You’ve been kept quiet for most of your life. Controlled. Watched. Loads of people are counting on you to not speak your mind.” He grips my wrist, not too hard, and looks at me with pity that’s so thick, it makes me nauseous. “It’s probably for the best that you chicken out today. You’ve got your plot of land. The ex-cons don’t need or deserve more than that.”

I bristle, and I can clearly see I’ve fallen into his trap. “You’re good, Sloan. You’re a proper arse, but you’re good.”

He chuckles and drops the façade. “Go out there and tell them how you should be treated. People open doors for you not because of who your father is, but because you radiate prestige. Now, you’re going to go out there and radiate respect. Make them listen to you.”

Then Sloan smooches my cheek and opens the door, sliding out to applause that serves to settle my nerves. At least they’re not throwing things at the car.

Sloan is right. I belong exactly here, doing exactly this. If I can make people buy a perfume just because they see me holding the bottle, then I can get them to buy into my politics. I will use my sway for what counts.

I’m out of practice with my stilettos, but that doesn’t stop me. In fact, once I step out of the car, I’m fairly certain that nothing can stop me. It’s not because I’m suddenly good at political speaking, but rather because my cause is greater than just me. I’m fighting for the freedom of the five hundred who have been forgotten and cast aside.

My flowy white miniskirt swishes across the upper few inches of my thighs. I’ve always owned