Game Saver - BJ Harvey Page 0,14
lot when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I swipe the screen and bring it up to my ear. “Hey Mom.”
“Caden,” she says warmly. “Can you talk?”
My mother never shortens my name. I’ve always been Caden to her; Cade is the name reserved for my father.
“I just finished my shift and am about to drive home so yep. How are you?”
“I’m good,” she replies. “I wanted to check in with you to make sure you have a suit for your father’s fundraising dinner next week.”
My father, Cade Carsen II, will announce at his ‘fundraising dinner’ that he is running for mayor of Chicago.
This isn’t a closely-held secret. In fact, it’s been rumored in the press and political circles for weeks now. Unfortunately for me, that means that my sister Callie and I are going to be called upon on a regular basis over the coming months to join him at campaign events.
My brother Cameron—the lucky bastard—gets to miss out on all the fun because he’s currently stationed in Afghanistan. Of course that doesn’t stop my father from using him for political fodder .The three Carsen children—a doctor, a lawyer, and a soldier—have all provided him with the perfect family image.
I may be a little resentful, but that’s only because my parents are all about reputation and perception. It’s not what they can do for you but what you can do for them.
We had a good childhood—it’s just that it was steeped in high expectations and pressure to excel. It’s probably why Cameron enlisted at nineteen—one reason, anyway—and has served two deployments so far.
“Yes, I have a suit, Mom.”
“I was talking to Emily Gregory’s mother a few days ago. She’s going to ask Emily if she’ll be your date for the evening.”
Emily is a family friend and was my high school girlfriend for all of two weeks. That’s how long it took for us to realize we had a) nothing in common, and b) were not interested in anything more than friendship. As we’ve gotten older, we’ve become more acquaintances than anything else.
“Mom, I already have a date for the dinner.”
“You do?” She gasps. “Do I know her? Who are her parents?” Her voice is a high-pitched shrill and I can’t help but grin, knowing that Mom won’t like my answers to her questions. “You don’t know her.”
“And you’re in a relationship with her? How come I don’t know about this?”
“It’s new.”
“How did you meet?”
Shit.
“Through friends.” Kind of true.
“You should introduce her to us beforehand. You could bring her to the house this weekend, make sure she knows what’s going to happen during the campaign.”
The words “hell no” spring to mind right about now. “No need. You’ll meet her at the dinner.”
“But—”
“Mom, no. Just stop,” I say with a laugh. “She’s nice, and I like her. That’s all that matters, surely?” I don’t mention that I really like banging her brains out, though.
“Oh,” she says, her voice now cold. “Will we be seeing you this weekend then? I know your father would want you to visit.”
“I’m working this weekend, Mom. I’m sorry.”
I almost hear the Stepford wife persona click into place. “That’s okay, dear. I know how busy you are. We’ll catch up next week at the dinner when we meet your lovely new girlfriend. What was her name again?”
“Abi. Her name is Abi.”
“That’s a lovely name. What’s her family name?”
Shit. Um. How the hell don’t I know that? Think, Carsen. “You’ll meet her next Saturday, Mom. We’re both really looking forward to it,” I lie. “But I’ve gotta go. I’ve just gotten to my car and I’m beat. I’ll call you next week.”
“Okay, dear. I have to call your sister now anyway. Take care.”
“Bye Mom.”
“Bye Cade.”
I hop in my car and realize I really do need to find out more about Abi if this ruse of ours is going to work at all. Putting my cell in my Bluetooth cradle, I pull out of the parking garage and head towards home. I press the button on my steering wheel to activate my phone and say “Call Abi” to the car at large. Moments later, the sound of the call connecting fills the cab just before she picks up.
“Hey. For what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Don’t talk about owing pleasure you less you plan on following through, Spitfire.”
“I’m not the one who doesn’t follow through. Need I remind you of that little teasing manoeuver you enacted before dinner last night?”
I chuckle, remembering how fucking amazing the sex between