Some of the disgust and loathing he felt must’ve shown on his face, because David threw him a quizzical look. Anton recovered immediately, patted his father’s back, and then went over to sit on a stool that someone had thoughtfully placed on the side of the stage while David gave a variation on his stump speech, which Anton knew so well that he sometimes would recite it to himself as a way of lulling himself to sleep after a long day on the campaign trail. So he struck his listening pose—thumb pushing up his lower lip a bit, slight frown on his face, head nodding in agreement every few seconds—and let his mind wander. Did she read the newspaper? Watch TV? Was she so far gone that she might not connect the dots to realize Attorney General Anton Coleman was the son she had discarded? If she was alive and well enough to know what she had thrown away, he wished her a lifetime of regret.
“Aaaanton, I love you,” a female supporter screamed, interrupting David’s speech and Anton’s reverie, and before they could react, a male voice responded, “Jenny, I love you,” and the crowd began to laugh appreciatively when another female voice cried, “Jenny, I love you, too,” and David, quick-witted as ever, leaned in to the microphone and boomed, “Well, folks, I guess we just proved we ain’t Alabama,” and the room erupted in whistles and whoops. Everybody got the governor’s reference to having signed the bill legalizing gay marriage in the state. Playing to the gallery, David half-turned to look at his son, his tall, lithe frame shaking silently with laughter, and Anton felt compelled to stand up and wave to the crowd. Thoughts of his mother had soured his mood slightly so that his smile was a bit strained. Only those who knew him well—Jenny, for instance—knew how uncomfortable he was made by the doting of strangers. He was not a natural politician with an insatiable need to be adored by millions. Still, he felt obliged to please the crowd by landing a long kiss on Jenny’s lips when she, along with Delores, finally joined their men on the stage. He and Jenny had been dating only about eleven months, and already the first fissures had begun to appear in their relationship, but this crowd of young campaign workers and supporters didn’t need to know that. No matter how much he wanted to focus on law and policy, there was a showbiz aspect to politics in the twenty-first century, and the story of how he had administered first aid to Jenny after a skiing accident in New Hampshire had even made the papers. Somebody on the ski slopes had apparently recognized him, shot a video of him making a tourniquet for her, and posted it on YouTube. That Jenny was a statuesque blonde who ran one of the IT start-ups in the state and he was the scion of a political dynasty made for a good story. It was almost inevitable that he would ask her out on a date; it was almost inevitable that, within weeks, she began to appear at his side at important political events, Uncle Connor beaming every time.
Anton followed his parents off the stage, bounding down the six steps that led to the floor of the ballroom, the knowing voice in his head working overtime—There he goes, the young, dynamic new AG, descending the steps without so much as using the handrail—and was immediately mobbed by supporters. Each one, it seemed, wanted something. Some of them shook his hand, some posed for pictures, some thumped his back, some told him exactly what he should do the day he assumed office. He smiled, he nodded, he winked, he shook hands, he hugged, he kissed. Mostly, he kept his eyes on his father’s back, looking to follow the path that David was carving out of the long room and out the door.
THREE HOURS LATER, it was just the two of them in the small sitting room David had off his bedroom in the Governor’s Mansion. Delores had gone to bed; Bradley had offered to drop Jenny and Uncle Connor home. And really, they should be headed to sleep also, but they couldn’t stop grinning at each other, couldn’t stop reminiscing about the campaign. David had been reelected with sixty-five percent of the vote. And despite a few early scares, it had been a relatively easy campaign for Anton, his path smoothed by Uncle Connor’s extensive contacts, David’s impassioned endorsement, the outpouring of sympathy and goodwill that resulted from Pappy’s death, and his fortuitous rescue of Jenny. Anton had to ruefully admit that in spite of his best efforts to make the campaign about the issues, it had been about everything but the issues. It hadn’t hurt that in September, The Monthly, the largest magazine in the state, had put him on the cover and named him “The Most Eligible Bachelor in the State.” Bradley and his other married friends had a field day with the headline and teased him mercilessly. David and Connor had chortled and immediately come up with a strategy to target female voters on Election Day. Only Delores seemed to have a different reaction—she had phoned Anton and asked what he was waiting for when he’d found a wonderful girl like Jenny, reminding him that he was not getting any younger.
“So,” David said, pulling out a cigar and handing one to his son. “How does it feel to be an elected representative of the people at long last?”
Anton pretended to shudder. He leaned forward as his father lit a cigar and handed it to him. “Well. Being AG is not exactly like being in the swamp of politics.” He grinned. “It’s more—lofty.”
David took a long drag, eyeing his son. “We’ll see, my boy, we’ll see.”
They laughed and then fell quiet, both of them exhausted by the day. David rocked in his chair, eyes closed, a small smile on his lips. The cigar burned in his left hand.
“Dad,” Anton said.
David opened his eyes. “Yeah?”
“I just wanted to say . . . thank you.”
“Quite the contrary, my dear Anton. It’s not often that a man has the pleasure of experiencing a historic day like today. You’ve made me very happy.”
“Dad. One more thing.” Anton hesitated, then started again. “I think we should agree not to discuss the cases before me outside of work. That is, I don’t want to treat you any differently than I would any other governor I’d have as a boss.”
David stared expressionlessly at Anton for a moment. Then he smiled. “I agree. And I expected nothing different from you.”
Anton knew the relief showed on his face. “Good deal.” He stared at the floor for a second and then looked up. “I want to give the voters exactly what I promised—the cleanest, most ethical AG’s office ever.” He shushed the voice in his head that sang, Corny, that’s just corny.
David nodded. “Absolutely.” He rolled his eyes. “After what we’ve just been through, it’s the least they can expect.” He was referring to the corruption scandal that had embroiled Peter Duke, the former AG. Peter, who had held the office for over twenty years, had decided not to seek reelection, thereby paving the way for Anton to run.
They sat for another moment, and then David stifled a yawn. “Got to get to bed,” he muttered. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” But he made no move to get up. Instead he asked, “How come Jenny didn’t stay the night?”
Anton shrugged. “She didn’t want to.”
“Everything okay between you two?”
He shrugged again. “I dunno. I guess so.”
“I see.” David waited a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “You’re going to have a lot on your plate in just a few weeks. If you think the relationship is over, it’d be best to let her know now. Don’t you think?”