A Little Bit

Prologue

Warren

Age 17

It’s pouring outside. It wasn’t even supposed to rain. Mother’s fundraising party was today, and she checked the weather furiously leading up to the date. Everything had to be perfect. Perfect. A lot of big players were going to be here. It was important. It always is.

“Both of you need to be on your best behavior tonight. Look the part,” she had demanded of me and my sister in that sweet southern voice that tries to make even the meanest statements sound polite.

Now, Mother sits at her big oak desk, hands steepled under her chin, head looking down while her heels click furiously against the wood floors. She taps her pointer fingers together a few times before flicking her eyes to me, sitting in the overstuffed velvet chair across from her.

I try to steel myself, but I’m pretty sure it falls flat. I probably look like a little rat. My clothes are soaked through and I can’t stop shaking. The tears have long dried up, though. I’m not sure why. I still feel completely unraveled inside. Sick to my fucking stomach. But nothing is coming out. I just stare and shake, replaying the images on an endless loop in my brain. I think I’m in shock.

The melodic twang of her voice interrupts my thoughts. “I can take care of this for you, sugar. But we can’t tell anyone. Not Grandaddy. Not your sister. Not your father. This has to stay between me and you… and any other people we need to make it go away.” Dread flows through my blood.

“But—”

She cuts me off with a hand in the air and a quick shake of her head. “No. I told you, sugar. This is bad. Very bad. But I’ll help you. I care about you.”

I don’t deserve help. I deserve… I don’t know honestly—to drown in this. In what’s happened.

Her eyes look warm and accepting, but there’s an undercurrent of threat. Something I can’t see, but still feel its presence. There’s a catch. There has to be. “You know what I need you to do for me, sugar.”

There it is.

I stay mute.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was so upset. I just did the first thing that came to my mind without thinking.

The rain made everything worse.

This wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. He wasn’t supposed to see. I had been doing a good job of fighting it. I was just going to… dabble and then go all the way to my grave with the memories.

If my mother was any other woman, and not Senator Darlene Baker, daughter of Senator Warren James Baker—Grandaddy—then maybe things could be different. But it’s not. That’s who she is. And I’m Warren James Baker II. The future’s already written for me. And this thing inside of me isn’t a part of it. It can’t be. Especially not here in the South.

I’ve seen how her and Grandaddy looked at Terrence. I knew how they felt without them having to say it. And even if I didn’t see it in their eyes, I hear what they say and what they support. I know it doesn’t align with the values of the party.

But it just felt so right. And it was all happening so fast, like I couldn’t help myself now that I could finally let it out. I thought I told him to lock the door, but in the rush, I obviously forgot.

Mom snaps her manicured fingers, a shiny red to show her patriotism, while a whisper of irritation crosses her face from how distracted I am. “Is that something you can do?”

“Of course,” I answer automatically. It has to be my answer. She’s saving me.

She gives me a stiff nod before abruptly straightening and standing up from her chair. Coming around her desk, she crouches in front of me, the smell of hairspray and a powdery perfume wafting off of her. She raises her hand to my cheek and coos, “Remember, sugar. This is because I love you. Very dearly, Warren. It’s for your own good.”

I don’t answer her, just nod back and lean into her hand.

Of course. My own good.