I slide off my seat and start toward the stage, turning up the wattage on my smile, which everyone tells me is my best feature. The tactic works, and one of the men beside the band’s lead singer glances up, eyebrows rising as I meet his gaze. It’s the drummer, if I remember correctly.
Halfway there the rest of them notice, and Nina whispers, “Damn, girl. Who knew you had it in you?”
A tall figure in a blue gown glides into my line of sight and stops. My smile departs as I’m faced with my mother.
“Callista. Good, you’re here. We need to take care of the usual photos before the rest of the guests arrive. I don’t have much time.” She grabs my hand and turns toward the doors.
“Nice to see you, Mom.” I scowl at the back of her head, but let her pull me along anyway.
“Hi, Mrs. Longo,” Nina calls.
“If you’ll pardon me, Nina, Callie will only be a few moments, and then you two can enjoy the rest of the night,” Mom shoots back over her shoulder.
Nina gives me a small wave as I pass, rolling my eyes.
I can probably credit at least half my success to adamantly refusing to ask for my mother’s help with anything, which means I’m quite capable of taking care of most problems on my own. But bolstering Katherine Longo’s public image was the one compromise I made. It’s not like she gave me much of a choice; I had to make a hard decision when she threatened not to pay for med school if I didn’t show up to parties like these and play the part of dutiful, yet highly accomplished daughter, rising through the ranks of cutting-edge medicine.
I think she was insulted that I chose to use my father’s name in my professional life, but I didn’t want any hint of the favoritism the Longo name recognition might bring me. Besides, if I was going to be compelled to do all these favors for her, I wanted some way to keep Dad close. Or maybe I just wanted to rub it in her face that he was still my favorite parent and that I hadn’t forgiven her for him leaving.
We push through the doors heading to the press wall just outside, where a row of photographers from various news outlets wait to snap photos of all the high-profile guests who are in attendance. Mom’s PAC logo covers the backdrop, a not-so-subtle reminder that this event is all about her.
Even though she isn’t up for re-election for three more years, the fundraising and campaigning never really seem to end. I took her money for my education and made sure it was well-spent. Luckily, once I finished my undergrad degree, my skills and knowledge became the real currency, so I didn’t need the Longo name to achieve my goals. If I needed to name drop nowadays, I’d use Dad’s name anyway. It goes much further among my colleagues.
“What the hell were you thinking, wearing that dress?” Mom says through her fake smile as we pose for the cameras.
I clench my jaw at the criticism, trying to force my smile into my eyes while the shutters click. I probably look like I’m squinting. “You of all people should know red is a power color, Mom. I needed as much power as I could to get through tonight.”
Her eyes cut to me briefly, the muscles of her jaw spasming with the force of holding that smile. “Do you have any idea how they could spin this? They’re already asking whether you’re still a supporter or if you’ve changed parties.”
I blink, then stare at her, heat rising in my blood. “Are you seriously suggesting that wearing red to this thing means I’m not still a Democrat? Jesus, Mom. It’s just a damn dress.” I stalk away from the cameras, not caring whether they caught us in the act of arguing or not.
“Callie!” she calls after me, rushing to catch up as I head toward the restrooms. I turn, ready to spit venom, but am taken aback by the chagrin on her face. “You always loved this party, honey. Why do you think you need to get through it? Will you talk to me for once?”
“You want to talk now? Isn’t it a little late for that?” My glare is unrelenting, and I’m gratified by the flash of irritation in her eyes. It’s not an apology, but it’s something.
“It doesn’t have to be now, but we’re long overdue. Will you at least tell me what changed this year? The dress . . . well, it’s beautiful. You are stunning, sweetie. But it threw me, and I’m sorry. You seem different this year, and it made me realize how long it’s been since we really talked.”
Her apology sounds so genuine, and for once I see real emotion in her eyes. I stop to face her, uncertain whether I should share that Barnaby is out of my life. She never liked him, so as far as she’s concerned, it would be good news.
Sighing, I decide it might not be the worst thing in the world to start fresh with her. It’ll at least make the coming year a lot more bearable. “I ended it with Barnaby. For good this time. I’d like tonight to be about moving forward, so when you have time, I would like to talk. I’m at the loft until Monday, then I’m going back to LA.”
She smiles and her shoulders relax. “I’ll make time before I head back to D.C. Thank you. And for the record, I am sorry about Barnaby. You two were together a long time. Longer than many marriages.”
I nod and half-shrug, but a bitter laugh escapes. “Yeah, well, I was a fool. You and Nina were both right about him. But I’m done letting him take up any more mental real estate, so I’d love it if he’s not the topic of conversation anymore. There are
