Page 76 of Threaded Lies

The painting taunts me as I get off the fourth-floor elevator.

It’s big and bold and some small part of me desires to take the razor blade to it to destroy something that my brother wanted so desperately—his status symbol—but I don’t.

Damaging the painting would make me no better than him, wouldn’t it? I’d only be destroying it for my own selfish pleasure and frustration. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial to sell it and give the money to Mei-Ling? With everything Rhett said at his campaign rally, the Sanctuary is going to need it more than ever.

And I don’t even want to talk about Rhett. I didn’t respond to the gushing texts from my mom about how great he did or how the poll numbers show he’s running away with the election. I didn’t acknowledge Chad’s requests to make an appearance as a couple on Rhett’s behalf this coming weekend.

Instead I buried my head in the sand and chose to dote on the fact that Holden let me in a little bit more. It wasn’t a lot, but it was more than I had and that’s enough for me.

Did curiosity own me, and did I try to learn more about his brother and the details surrounding his death? I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t, but there was nothing more to be found out than he had already divulged.

Hit-and-run in which his middle school–aged brother was killed. Details were more than scant.

Because it’s Fairmont.

Simon’s words come back to me. The reason why I hadn’t heard of the recent gun violence in Fairmont or why there wasn’t a bigger police presence after it—and I wonder if the same held true for Holden’s brother. He was hit and killed in whatever low-income neighborhood they grew up in and therefore his death wasn’t deemed worthy enough to write more about.

Both sets of circumstances are a tragedy.

And it doesn’t help any when I turn the corner to the hallway and see Rhett’s campaign signs stacked in columns up against the walls.

“Rhett,” I call down the hallway.

He pops his head out of Chad’s office and I have to remind myself that physical violence is looked down upon, no matter how much I want to make the exception for it here.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He strolls out with his hands in his pockets and a smarmy smile on his face.

“This isn’t your campaign headquarters. Get the posters out of here.” I don’t care how loud I am.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is. The last thing any employee in this company needs to feel is intimidated into voting for you.”

“Why would they feel that way?” Chad asks as Rhett’s shadow steps out from behind him only to further irk me.

I used to think their bromance was cute and adorable but now that Holden has pointed out how they are mirror reflections of each other who can’t do anything alone, I find it rather childish and irritating.

How interesting that one person can upend our world and make us see something in a different light.

“Because they might feel like their job is on the line if they don’t vote for you.”

“They’ll vote for me,” he says, arrogance oozing from his every word.

“No, they won’t.”

“Whatever.” He waves a hand indifferently.

“I’m not,” I state and have both Rhett and Chad staring at me with lips lax and eyes wide.

“What do you mean, you’re not?”

“Just like what it sounds. I don’t like your policies on across the river. I don’t think you’ve thought them all the way through.” I shrug, wanting the showdown but unwilling to go all the way here in front of an audience of our employees. I’m saying enough that they’ll talk and my stance will spread, but not enough to become town fodder.

Who am I kidding? This is Westmore.

“How cute. You developed a soft spot for that little place where Gran used to go. You can’t save the world, Rowan. I’m just trying to make it a better place in the meantime.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now, you righteous prick?”