Adrian McKinty - Hidden River

“So you were solid working class?” I asked with a smile, since some people can take offense at that kind of question.

“I suppose so, I don’t have a, uh…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” I insisted.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I don’t have a relationship with my dad, we haven’t spoken in years.”

“How did that happen?”

“Well, he divorced my mom and he’s a real operator, he had good lawyers and she got screwed over and got nothing. That’s the first thing. And then when I was going to college, he’d promised he would pay but he stopped paying. He wouldn’t give me anything until I went to see him, to beg in person, but I didn’t want to do that because of what he did to Mom.”

“I’m sorry. He sounds like a bastard,” I said.

“Yeah. He was, still is, probably. I don’t want to talk about it. What did your parents do?”

“My parents were both teachers, math and English. Dad’s retired, Mum’s dead,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, uh, what did your mom die of? I mean, if you don’t mind…”

“She had cervical cancer, it was misdiagnosed for a while and when it was diagnosed it was probably too late, they tried some alternative treatments, but those things don’t work,” I said simply.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” she said. “How old were you when she died?”

“I was eighteen, it was my second year of university, it was really hard, my siblings were in England and my dad was doing all this political shit, Mum was practically on her own, it was awful, really. She was tough, though, she said we should all get on with our lives.”

“I’m so sorry,” Amber said, and stopped for a minute to give me a look of real sympathy. She touched my hand again. I squeezed hers.

“My poor mother might as well be dead,” she said, her face sad with the memory.

“What’s the matter?”

“She’s only sixty-eight, but she has early-onset Alzheimer’s, hardly recognizes me, it’s awful. Charles had her flown out here to Denver, to a wonderful place. Oh, my goodness. Actually, I don’t want to talk about that, either, it’s terrible.”

I nodded sympathetically. But sharing that had brought me closer to her.

“To be honest, I don’t really like it here in Denver that much,” she offered after a while. “It’s a poor excuse for a city.”

“If you don’t like it, why do you stay?” I asked.

“Oh, Charles has to be here, for political reasons, you wouldn’t really understand. All politics is local in this country. We have to be here.”

“And does Charles have political ambitions?”

“I suppose so, don’t we all?”

“Not me. You don’t really hear about many national figures coming out of Colorado, though.”

“No, no, you don’t, the last was Gary Hart and we all know what happened to him.”

“The girl on the boat, that scandal thing,” I said.

“ Monkey Business, ” she said.

I swore inwardly, for we were already back at the van. Everyone else there, Charles beaming, wearing Dockers, deck shoes and a button-down Oxford shirt. His hair gelled. He looked younger, like the millionaire commodore’s wanker son at a yacht club function. And of course he was a millionaire’s son and he was a wanker. I had to bite down a real hatred for the man. He bounded over, kissed Amber, shook my hand.

“Well, folks, hope you’re ready to party,” he said.

“What is it, Charles?” Amber asked excitedly.

“We just signed our ten thousandth member,” he said, and gave her another big kiss.

“That’s wonderful,” Amber said, her face lighting up with pleasure.

“It is, ten thousand members and the timing couldn’t be better. Momentum is what we need right now. And we have it. Ten thousand members, if we could use the mailing list and hit them up for a hundred bucks a pop, we could have a million dollars in our PAC before anyone else even begins to raise money….”

Charles suddenly realized he was being indiscreet. He looked at me and forced a grin. He turned to Amber, kissed her again.

“Darling, Robert and I have been thinking, we’re going to have a big party, honey, tell me it’s ok, but the offices are so boring, I was really thinking we could go to our house, it’s big and nice, comfortable, everyone would love it, but if you don’t think so, we could go to the offices, tell me what you think?”

“If that’s what you want, Charles,” Amber said a little reluctantly.

“Terrific, I’ll tell Robbie and Abe,” Charles said, and ran back to the others.

“So we’re going to your place?” I asked Amber.

“It’s not as clean as I would have liked, the maid only comes every other day, I hope we’re not embarrassed,” Amber said.

Amber was not embarrassed. The house was spectacular. An Edwardian pile on Eighth and Pennsylvania, the heart of Capitol Hill, a block from the governor’s mansion. Easily six thousand square feet, with a big open-plan living room decorated in what I took to be southwestern style: Indian artifacts, prints, throw rugs, pastel furniture. A Georgia O’Keeffe painting of an adobe house. Pottery that looked to be pre-Columbian. It must have cost a bloody fortune, which meant the brothers couldn’t really have been as poor as Klimmer claimed, although wealth is a relative thing. Perhaps they weren’t that well off in comparison to their fabulously wealthy father. But even so, all of us humble campaigners were awed.

Twenty of us in here easily, but we hardly filled the space. Charles ordered a crate of champagne and food deliveries from several restaurants. We all mucked in, setting a table with caviar, French cheese, Mexican dips, hot plates, paté, and the like. After a couple of minutes I found Charles, gulping from a flute of champagne.

“Wonderful house,” I said, “just the place for a future congressman.”

“What?” he asked, grinning merrily.

“You’re moving into politics, I hear,” I said.

“Alex, walls have ears, I see. Don’t breathe a word of that. Please. But yes, it’s an exciting time, a very exciting time. You know, Robert thinks they’re going to ask me to give a speech at the GOP leadership seminar in Aspen on the sixteenth. I don’t know how I’ll manage it. Can you imagine, six months ago no one had heard of CAW. We couldn’t buy publicity and now, well, I hate to bring it into the realm of the personal, but things are looking up for me. I should have listened to Amber a long time ago.”

Charles was getting a little excited. I got him another champagne.

“So Amber wanted you to go into politics?” I asked, handing him the glass.

“She’s very clever, Amber, did I tell you how we met? Completely by accident, although I’d sort of known her before. Teacher-student relationships, frowned upon, you know. Anyway, yes, what a time. The first thing was to move CAW from Boulder to Denver. It seems like years rather than weeks ago. Couple of setbacks. We had those two terrible tragic incidents. Good God.”

His tongue was really loosening, but before he could tell me any more Amber appeared, took Charles by the arm, and tried to lead him over to the window.

“Sorry, Alex, she said, there’s something we have to take care of.”

“No, don’t go,” I said, “I never get to talk to the big boss anymore, this is my big chance to weave my way into his consciousness.”

“Yeah, what’s so important, darling?” Charles said.

“Well, I think we — someone knocked over a glass of champagne, you know what that will do to the carpet,” Amber said.

“Oh my God, Amber, leave it, this is a party, Rosita will do it tomorrow. Not tonight, we’re celebrating,” Charles said.