The Bodyguard

14.

Jasper's Pov

Brunch is a creation from hell itself.

I could do the late night dinners and governor parties, I'd even prefer a nightcap, but brunch?

Putting on a fake smile would be more doable if it wasn't 11am and I had a few drinks in my system.

But it was the middle of the day, it wasn't as socially acceptable to down hard liquor this early and I was still processing the last couple of dinners.

Watered down mimosas and pastries were not going to get me through the next two hours, but seeing as my mom and brother were on either side of me, I had to be on my best behavior.

The scolding wasn't as bad as I thought. I'd managed to nod my way through it, and agree to limit my alcohol consumption.

Hence the reason I was painfully tuned out from the conversations around me.

Seated next to my mom, was my sister (of course.) My sister was Karla's confidant and personal service dog. Don't get me wrong, I admired my mom, but our relationship has been rocky for the past couple of years.

Mostly because I refuse to suck up to her like my siblings do. Oh, that and I'm a recovered drug addict. Definitely doesn't earn many points in her book.

Next to my sister were some poli-sci interns, probably looking for advice from the Karla White.

Should I be the one to tell them she's gonna give the same speech she always does to desperate undergrads?

Stay in school, follow your heart. Don't let anyone tell you, you can't. Women can do whatever they put their mind to.

Yadda, yadda, yadda. You know, I admire their desperation, truly.

To have an idol, someone to be personally fixated on, takes dedication. That, and the ability to not get bored of them after a few conversations. Takes guts.

Next to the interns was the editor-in-chief of The New Yorker. She'd set up few pieces on my mom, but this time, Karla was going to be on the cover.

She'd dish about her experience as senator, breaking glass ceilings, all while juggling being a mother.

I could picture the front page now: Karla in her signature white pants suit, arms crossed, with the title: The Present is Female: New York's Senator Tells All

How cliche.

Next to the feminist army is a couple of random socialites, how they get invited to these things?

Who knows. Most definitely has something to do with the benefits of generational wealth.

Finally, at the opposite end of the table, and next to my brother was Ralph Ortega. He'd been my mom's Political Strategist on her last campaign trail, and was accompanying her again this time around.

I don't know much about him, other than he's a retired Governor of Maine, and has written a couple books on politics and race. He seemed like a decent enough guy, but other than that, I didn't care about him.

Or anyone here for that matter. Well, maybe my family, but that was conditional.

We were seated outside on a balcony that overlooked the city. The sun was bright, which was not helping my mood, and the breeze was warm.