The Juliette Society(80)

This party’s already got way too old for me. I’ve seen enough and I know exactly when it’s time to go. So I walk out while he’s still lying there on that slab, still gurgling, half-conscious and incoherent.

I don’t turn around.

I don’t look back.

I’m blessed to be alive.





22




It’s election night. I’m home alone watching the results come in live on TV. And when they cut to Bob DeVille, he’s already triumphant. He’s ahead by a clear margin, smashing his opponent, and he knows he’s going to take this election. He already knows he’s going to win and you can see it on his face.

Name me a politician that doesn’t get away with murder.

It’s almost a perk of the profession. And DeVille’s got it down to an art.

To me, he’s DeVille now. Not Bob. That just feels too familiar. A little too cosy for comfort. Now that I know what I know. It changes everything. Calling him Bob, that would be a bit like being on first-name terms with the Hillside Strangler.



DeVille is standing at the podium flashing a victory sign and a Colgate grin with his arm around Gena’s waist as he prepares to make his victory speech. He looks so suave and so self-satisfied. And he’s wearing a fucking cravat. I must be the only person watching this who knows why. He’s wearing it to hide his fuck bruises. To protect his dirty little secret.

Gena is pointing at random people in the crowd, doing that same thing with her mouth that Hillary Clinton does at campaign rallies. Gawping in surprise, incredulously, and frantically waving at random people in the crowd as if she’s just seen a long lost family member – and pretending that she knows them. Gena’s doing it because she’s convinced she’s one step closer to First Lady and she better start looking the part.

The DeVilles are performing for an exuberant crowd who have been bussed in from miles around to fill out the numbers and make it look as if the Senator-in-waiting has his finger on the pulse of an electorate giddy for change, when he’s probably just polled the lowest numbers in the history of the State.

And they’re putting on a good show. You’d never know that they were anything other than what they present themselves as. The all-American couple. Loving, faithful and shining with good health.

When it cuts to a wide shot that shows the whole stage, I can see Jack standing there off to the side with the rest of DeVille’s team. Nothing could spoil this moment for me. Because I’m so proud of Jack, I really am.

Even though pride comes with a caveat because I know the real DeVille now, not the cardboard cut-out politician on TV who says he wants to show people ‘the real me’. I know what he’s capable of. I know what he’s a part of.

I ask myself the same questions again. What is experience worth? And what does it cost?

This is what my experience is worth. I understand things now about sex and power and how they connect and interact that some people never get to discover during the course of their entire lives. And I’m still so young. But I’m also going to have to live with this my entire life. I can’t say that makes me happy. If I’m really honest, it makes me feel uncomfortable. Because I know that I’m only a step away from DeVille.

I could tell Jack what happened. I could blow the whole thing wide open if I wanted to. But we only have one life to live and I dream and fantasize like everybody else about the things that everybody wants: security, family, happiness, love. And I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know one thing that’s not in the future I see for myself. A whistleblower.

My instinct for survival is a lot stronger than my desire to save the world. So I could play the hero if I wanted to, but do I want to be known as that person for the rest of my life? Do I want to live with the consequences? Where would that leave Jack? What would it do to us?

By doing that I’d have to tell Jack everything. And I’m not ready to take that step yet. Some things should remain left unsaid. Secrets are best kept, not revealed. This one has to stay with me. At least for now. But I’ll reserve the right to change my mind at any time.

What would you do in my position?

Think about it. It’s not so easy, is it? There’s no simple solution or obvious exit plan.

This isn’t like one of those Hollywood movies where everything gets tied up neatly in the final reel. Where the bad guys get their comeuppance, the forces of chaos and evil are defeated, order is restored. And the hero or heroine gets to live another day and return to their regular lives. Their home, their wives, their children, their dog. And I really don’t need to tell you this, but real life isn’t like that. Hollywood endings only happen in the movies.