Prick, Page 4

  "Stop!" Katherine yells the words. Yells. The sound of her yelling is so startling that her father looks at her, open-mouthed.

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  "What did you just say?" he asks.

  "I think we all need to calm down here," Ella says, standing at the far end of the table. "Ben, Caulter is not your child, he's mine, and I'll thank you kindly to not - "

  "Oh please, Ella. " I hold my palm up.

  "I don't want to hear you refer to your mother by her first name like she's one of your friends," the Senator booms.

  "It's a good thing you don't get a say in the matter then, is it?" I ask. "Since I'm not one of your employees you can order around. "

  "Ben!" Ella says. "I said, this is my child. Caulter and I are informal. And it's not your call to step in and change that. "

  "Your child is an adult," the Senator says, his voice louder now. "Not a kid. And it's time to start treating him like an adult. Both of you are adults and - "

  Katherine yells again, her hands over her ears. "Jesus fucking Christ," she screams.

  "Katherine Eva Harrison," the Senator said. "You will not take the Lord's name in vain in this house. "

  "I can't listen to another second of arguing!" she yells. "Yes, Caulter and I flipped each other off. Yes, it's in the paper. Yes, it's a PR problem. I'm sorry your engagement was announced this way. But if you want to talk about being selfish, we can talk about being selfish. You left like a bat out of hell after graduation to get back to work -- and by work, I'm assuming you meant Ella. You didn't think that maybe you should, oh, I don't know, give me any kind of heads up that you were getting re-married?" Katherine asks, her voice growing more high-pitched.

  I step back, crossing my arms over my chest, not even bothering to hide the smile I can feel tugging at the corners of my mouth. I didn't think daddy's little girl had it in her. I can't believe I'm listening to her tell off her father.

  "I thought you would prefer to hear something like that at home - " he starts, suddenly on the defensive.

  "Yeah, dad," she says. "I totally want to walk in the door to the house to see the three of you standing there. I'm sure that's how they tell you to do it in all the parenting books. Make sure you choose a setting for maximum impact, right?"

  "I made a decision that I thought was most appropriate for - "

  "You've been keeping this entire relationship a secret!" Katherine yells. "Do you understand how big of an asshole you're being? You're about to punch Caulter in the fucking kitchen! You don't see the irony here? Mom would hate the person you are - and you know it. "

  At the mention of her mother, it's like all of the air is sucked out of the room. The color drains from the Senator's face.

  Katherine keeps going. "You're bringing them - " She doesn't look at me, just points the direction of me and Ella. "To the summer house, to our house. To her house. "

  "She's dead!" The Senator yells. "Your mother has been dead for four goddamn years!"

  "I can't talk about this," she says, shaking her head. She looks at the Senator with disappointment etched on her face, and brushes past me without a glance. I stand there for a minute, the silence in the room lingering. The Senator leans over the table, both palms flat, his head hanging. I'm irritated with him, but I feel badly for Katherine.

  Ella looks up at me, her expression pained. "Caulter - " she starts.

  I cut her off before she can say whatever the hell it is she has to say. "Fuck this shit," I say. "I'm out. "

  I take the stairs two at a time to the bedroom where my wallet is, but I'm honestly wondering if Katherine has left yet. I hit my room first and grab my wallet and my smokes, pausing when I reach her room. Her door is open about an inch, and I stand there for a few seconds, deciding whether or not I want to say anything. Then the door is yanked open, and she looks at me with surprise.

  For second, I think she might be pleased to see me, but she sighs audibly and shakes her head. "Seriously, Caulter, I don't need your bullshit right now. I'm not in the mood. I'm on my way out. "

  "Want some company?"

  Her eyebrow goes up. "Are you fucking kidding?"

  "I'm not being a prick. Really. " I feel defensive. I'm not a dick all the time, I want to say. There's something about her that just seems to bring it out of me.

  "That's a first," she says. "What, you want to have some brother - sister bonding time?"

  "I want to get out of here," I say, my tone noncommittal.

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  "Fine. " She slings her bag over her shoulder, and I follow her out the front door. Beyond the front gate are three photographers this time, smoking as they loiter, and they stand quickly, aiming their cameras at us as we approach.

  Katherine swears under her breath as we walk out. "Don't they have anything better to do?"

  "Caulter, Katherine -- do you really hate each other? Do you have a comment for us?"

  "Mind your own business," she says. "Seriously. Look, we're standing right here, aren't we? Why don't you take a photo of us together, not killing each other. We're friends. That's my comment. "

  I slip my arm around her shoulder. "Smile for the cameras. " I give a thumbs up and Katherine looks over at me, finally breaking a smile before making a thumbs up as well.

  The photographers roll their eyes, and we turn and walk briskly down the sidewalk for two blocks before either of us says anything. Then Katherine laughs. The sound is light, melodic. I look at her because I don't think I've heard her laugh -- not a genuine laugh -- in two years at Brighton. She's snarky, yeah, but she's so damn serious at school. Once she starts, she can’t stop, doubling over as she laughs, big laughs from her belly, until she has to wipe tears from her eyes.

  When she stops, she looks up at me. “What?” she asks. “You’re staring. ”

  “You’re the one standing on the sidewalk laughing like a crazy person. ”

  “My dad is going to hate that photo, you know” she says. “I think we're supposed to wait for a staged media thing. His PR person is going to have a lot to say about it. ”

  I shrug. “I guess I don’t give a shit about your fucking dad. ” We’re walking, but I don’t know where. I pull my pack of cigarettes out and she gives me a look. “You want one?” I ask.

  Katherine shakes her head. “Why don’t you just go back to Hollywood or wherever for the summer? My father will make up some reason for you not going to New Hampshire, a reasonable story for where you are. You don't want to put up with his shit all summer, do you?”

  “Trust fund,” I say. “Ella’s holding it over me. Is it true the house in New Hampshire is your mother's house?"

  She shrugs. "It was her favorite place. We lived in a farmhouse in Loudon when I was a kid, but he sold it for the lake house, since he was going to DC during the rest of the year. But my mother loved New Hampshire, so even though we were only there in the summer, it was her place. "

  "And he's bringing Ella there," I say. "It's kind of a dick move. "

  "It's whatever, you know? Not a big deal. " I can tell she's lying. "Ella seems okay. I mean, it’s weird that you call her by her first name. ”

  We’re standing near the entrance to the Metro. “You mean, instead of mommy dearest?” I ask. “Where the hell are we going, anyway?” I’m jonesing for a smoke even though it’s only been like ten minutes since my last. Katherine makes me feel edgy. Or, rather, I feel edgy because of how it felt to have her standing beside me, with her arm thrown casually over my shoulder. That, and maybe I'm irritable because I haven't been laid now in ten fucking days.

  "I don't know," she says. "I was just getting out. I didn't have any plans. "

  "You don't seem like the spontaneous type," I say. "And I don't have to go to your mom's house for the summer, you know. If it bothers you. " I offer her a half-hearted out, even though what I really want to know is whether it bothers her that I'm going. I want it to bother her.

  "What do you know what type of person I am?" she asks, wrinkling her nose. "I said it's not a big deal. I don't want to talk about her. "

  We get on the Metro, going who knows where. We're talking, about regular bullshit, nothing heavy. She seems to be less irritated now, and she's laughing at the stories I tell her about some of my mother's friends, Hollywood celebrities, and how our little middle-finger photo is small potatoes compared to the real scandals. She's laughing, and it sounds nice.

  "Where the hell are we going?" I ask, when we get off a stop.

  Katherine shrugs. "No plans," she says. "Just getting the hell away from the house. Do you have better plans?"

  I hold up my hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you want, Princess. "

  She ignores me, and we walk for a while until we get to a park. I don't know jack about DC, so I've got no idea where we are -- New York and Hollywood, those are the places I know. But she seems to have some idea where we're going, and I'm following her lead because she's not as awful as I thought she was. We're actually getting along, and for the first time since I've known her, it's pretty comfortable to hang out with her.

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  "You're not so bad, Princess," I say. "I mean, for a stuck up bitch. "

  She laughs. "I can't believe you just called me that. "

  "Bitch?" I ask. "You know I'm joking. Not about the stuck up shit, though. "

  "Do people think I'm a bitch?" she asks.

  The honest answer is yes, but I shrug. "Who cares what they think?"

  Katherine looks at me long and hard. "Better than being a spoiled dickhead. "

  I grin. "Whatever you say, Harvard. " We're in a secluded spot off this path, trees overhanging the trail, and the place is practically uninhabited. I pull out a joint, and Katherine gives me a look.

  "Are you stupid?" she asks. "We're out in public. "

  "No one's passed us in like fifteen minutes," I say. "Come on. There's a building up there -- we'll scoot behind it. "

  Katherine sighs. "First the photo in the paper, and now you're going to get us arrested for possession. My dad will fucking kill us. "

  I grin. "Come on, Princess," I tease. "Are you chickenshit?"

  She follows me to the other side of a building that houses a bathroom, and we stand near some trees behind it. "I'm not some kind of naive little girl," she says. "I have gotten high before. "

  "Sure you're not, Princess," I say. "You're practically a fucking rock star. " I light up and hand her the joint.

  "Shut up," she says, as she takes a hit. "You tagged along with me. If you have cooler friends you'd rather hang out with, then that's where you should be. "

  "Cooler friends than you, Princess?" I ask, as she passes it back to me. "Not possible. I'm not friends with any kids of future Presidents. "

  She rolls her eyes. "That's the plan. Everything is about the plan. Always has been. My mother hated it, you know. "

  "The political thing?"

  "Politics," she says. "I think she hated politics almost as much as she hated him. They fought a lot. "

  We're silent for a few minutes while we smoke, and I don't want to break the stillness that settles between us like some kind of spell. I wait until we're finished, walking back out through the park, to speak. "What about you?" I'm more curious than I thought I'd be about her.

  "What about me?"

  "The future President's kid - is that what you're about?"

  She laughs, the sound bitter. "It doesn't matter what I'm about," she says. "That's the plan, don't you know? Anyway, it's not for a while -- his Senate re-election is this year, and he won't run for President in the next election. So it'll be the following Presidential election after that. Six years is a long time. " She studies my face as we walk. "I'm not like you, you know. "

  "No shit. " I can't think of a person less like me if I try.

  "It must be nice to not give a shit what other people think," she says.

  "You might want to try it sometime. " The words come out with an edge they shouldn't have, especially since I'm high. Damn, she's got this way of being condescending. I can't stand it.

  "That would be nice," she says. I think she actually means it.

  We reach a park bench and sit shoulder to shoulder beside each other. I'm aware of our proximity, nearly touching. She doesn't say anything, so we just sit there quietly for maybe a half hour or so. It's probably the weed, but it feels easy to just sit with her.

  When we get up to leave, I reach for her hand to pull her up, and as she rises to her feet, she stumbles against me and we're frozen there. My eyes go down to her chest, even though she's wearing this sleeveless white shirt that's not revealing; the fact that I can't see the tops of her breasts makes me want to see more, like some kind of reverse psychology thing. She inhales, her chest rising, and I'm fixated on her lower lip as it falls open in slow motion. When she flicks her tongue over it, I picture those lips wrapped around my cock and it goes rock hard.

  I bring my mouth down on hers, crushing her lips under mine, and she moans into my mouth. Her tongue meets mine, and her hands are on my chest, gripping my shirt and pulling the fabric -- and me -- toward her. She presses against me, arching her back and pushing up her chest as she grinds her hips against my hard-on.

  I grip her ass cheeks in return. I don't give a shit where we are; I want to want to rip off her clothes and fuck her right here in the middle of a public park.

  Then as suddenly as it started, it's over. She presses her palms flat against my chest and shoves me, stepping back and wiping her mouth with her hand like I'm some kind of contaminant she can't wait to get rid of. I'm looking at her, trying to comprehend what the hell she's playing at here, but I can't think because there's no blood left in my brain. All I know is that my dick is hard as hell and she's standing there looking like she just ate some bad food.

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  "Don't, Caulter -- " she says, holding her hand up like I'm a rapist about to come after her. As if I fucking grabbed her and kissed her against her will. As if she weren't just moaning into my damn mouth, arching her back and pressing her tits into my chest, daring me to touch her.

  "Don't what, Princess?" I ask. "You're the one who's rubbing up against my cock like it's a magic lamp. "

  Katherine shakes her head, her fingertips still pressed against her mouth. Her lips are swollen, the skin around them red from my kiss. "This isn't fucking happening, Caulter. " The way she says it is like I'm throwing myself at her. Like I'm lucky to be getting a chance to touch her or something. Her attitude pisses me off even more.

  "Don't worry, sweetheart," I say. "Just because I was high and wanted a quick lay doesn't mean anything. "

  She looks at me with an expression I can't quite figure out. I think it might be disappointment, but she's the one who's fucking rejecting me. It passes as quickly as it appeared. "Just -- just keep your hands off me, Caulter," she says.

  "Keep my hands off you?" I can't hold back my laugh. "That's rich. Don't worry, Princess, your pussy isn't magic and I'm certainly not hurting for it. It won't be a hardship to keep my dick away from you. "

  She narrows her eyes at me and her jaw clenches. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. We should be adults. Friends. We should be civil to each other. " She stands there awkwardly, her words just hanging in the air, and I just stand there. I'm not thinking about what she said, though. I'm really thinking about the fact that my dick is not moving from where it's lodged, pressed up against the zipper of my jeans. I think her holier-than-thou attitude might have even made it harder.

  Clearly, my dick has poor taste in women.

  "Do you want to go back to my father's house?" she asks.

  I shrug. "Nah," I say, taking my pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and opening the flap. "I think I'm just going to go out. There's no sense having a hard on and not being able to use it. "

  I say it just to hurt her, and it looks like it works. She blinks a few times, standing there with her hands balled up into fists at her sides, before she whirls around. "Fine," she says. "Whatever. Have fun. "

  I stare in the opposite direction, watching her leave out of the corner of my eye but not looking at her. I won't give her the satisfaction of looking at her. The way she wiped her mouth after she kissed me, like I'm some kind of sleaze she can't wait to get away from? She may have been a good lay, but great lays are a dime a dozen. I don't need her.

  I've always loved summer in New Hampshire. When my father first became Senator, he sold the farmhouse in Loudon where I'd spent my early years, and moved us to DC for the school year. But my mother and I would come to the house on Lake Winnipesauke for the summer. My father would join us, flying between New Hampshire and DC during early summer and only coming back full-time when the Senate broke for summer session. He never liked the state, even though he's tied to it politically. He returns here, but spends most of the summer bitching about being out of the loop and finding excuses to fly into New York or DC for fundraisers and political events.

  Me, on the other hand? I love this place. I cried when he sold our first house. He said it wasn't healthy to be attached to something like that ("It's just a goddamned house, Katherine"), and I was seven, so I said I'd never get over it. But I did. The summer house became my favorite place in the world, and it stayed that way after my mother died because she was my tie to it.

  So coming here for the summer isn't so bad, even if it means doing what my father wants as far as the re-election campaign goes. He's the incumbent, and honestly, the election is no big deal. He'll win by a landslide, just like he always does. He just thinks it's the biggest deal in the world. And besides, until summer session breaks, he'll be flying in and out, so I get this whole place to myself. Or I would, if Caulter weren't in the picture.

  I still might, though. I don't know where Caulter is. After what happened in the park, he never came home that night. I know, because I was listening for him. The fact that he went out and screwed some chick after kissing me, just because he had a hard-on, is so disgusting it makes me hate him. So when Ella said that Caulter was going back to Malibu for a few days, excuse me for being happy.

  If I'm lucky, maybe I won't ever have to see him again.

  The problem is that I can still feel his lips on mine, that bruising kiss in the park lingering even now. My body craves him, and I hate it.

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