Chapter Forty-Two

The interview was a disaster, just as expected. Though if one were to ask Inanis, he would call it more-so a success.

The three of us sat in front of the camera, Inanis on the right, me in the middle, and Vice President Kurt Chavez on the left. He was holding his four-fingered hand in his other, his face as white as a sheet. They managed to bandage his hand and give him an ice pack to keep on it. I saw that they had also put his finger in a cup of ice until the interview was over.

I felt terrible for him, as I was sure he wouldn't make it through the interview.

He did.

It wasn't of much importance, the interview, that is. Full of questions regarding his future presidency, and how he will make America right, damning all the wrong doers as they deserve.

I didn't fail to notice he looked at Inanis when he said that. Poor man still thinks he can deduct the Bone Cutter as America's capital punishment. He is stupid, and Inanis will only prove to him how stupid he is again, if that is what he feels he must do.

When the interview is over, and Kurt is rushed to the hospital. Inanis and I get a few hours to wait before the party tonight. Since it would be suicide to walk downtown with the public so hyped up, he and I are stuck in my dressing room; a tiny room to be more specific, alone, with my husband. My husband who can't sit still.

"This is almost worse than the party itself." He says, leaning back in his chair.

I'm sitting in front of the mirror, my eyes watching the clock's reflection. "Then leave, I never asked you to sit here with me."

He lifted his head, "You're still mad."

"I'm not mad."

"You're a little mad."

"I'm going to be if you don't drop it."

"That's such a mad thing to say."

I don't reply to him because I know that's what he wants. Instead I glare at him through the mirror, and he stares right back. I see how he tries to focus on me, but he gets distracted and looks at something else. In seconds he's up and digging through some of the boxes my stylist has left.

"Those things aren't yours." I tell him, my eyes drifting back to the clock. It was moving so damn slow.

"I don't know what you mean." He responds and pulls out a jewelry box.

"I mean they don't belong to you, so stop touching them."

He frowns, "I'm not a fan of restrictions."

My eyes flicker to him, "If that were true, I'd be pregnant right now."

I almost gasp when he suddenly drops the jewelry box by accident due to the unintended surprise of my words. We both wince as rings and earrings go scattering everywhere across the floor.

I quickly stand, careful not to step on anything that wasn't hardwood floor, "You idiot, look what you've done."

"It wasn't my intent." He defends himself, "It slipped." He nudges the broken jewelry box with his foot, "It was ugly anyway."

"I told you not to fucking touch it."

"I wasn't expecting you to mention motherhood." He whispered the word 'motherhood' as though it were a bad word, "That was unfair."

He's being extra obnoxious today, and I'm not sure if it's the vodka he had in his coffee this morning, or if he's so bored that he's making fun wherever he can. I assume the latter.

I grunted, and got down to the floor, "Help me pick these up."

He sighs loud and dramatic, "Make the help do it."

"Inanis."

"Fine." He gets on his knees, and I hear him mumble, "You'd be a tedious mother."

"It feels like I'm already one."

"That hurts my feelings." He pounded his heart with his fist, "Deep in there where the monsters live."

"You are so fucking dramatic."

"You're so fucking serious."

"You chopped a man's finger off."

He pointed at me, "I knew you were still mad."

I shake my head, and pretend he isn't getting on my nerves. "You know what?" I tell him, "How about you leave? Go take a walk or something."

He examines the rings he had picked up from the floor, "How about no."

I don't argue with him because I don't see the point. I end up finishing the jewelry cleanup, as Inanis puts a ring into the box, and watched me do the rest. It is almost as though he regresses every day. More and more a child each day he is alive. I don't know if his mental state is deteriorating or if he just doesn't give a shit anymore.

Or perhaps this is his true self, and he's just getting comfortable around me.

I frown at the thought.

"The party starts soon." Inanis starts digging through a clothing rack of dresses, "You should pick out some new attire."

"I like what I'm wearing." My stylist knocks on the door and asks if it's alright that she fixes my makeup. I gladly welcome another person in this tiny, insufferable room of hell.

"Are you sure you won't wear this one?" He pulls out the same olive gown from earlier, his adamancy for me to wear it is enough of a reason for me to not.

"I'll tell you what," I say, when my stylist finishes putting powder on my face, "When I die, you can put that very gown on my corpse if that is your wish."

"So, soon then?"

"With the way you act, I sure fucking hope so."

There was another knock on the door, and this they didn't wait for an invitation to come in. The door swung open, and my heart dropped at the sight of Inanis's mother, glaring at me in particular. I don't know why she's here, and part of me doesn't want to know.

I just want her far from me.

"Where is my son?" She asks me, and Inanis, still looking through some of the boxes, doesn't even bother to acknowledge her when I point to him.

"Vita." Her accent is as heavy as always. I'm still unsure where she's from, but as Inanis once told me he holds Italian blood, it wouldn't surprise me if it was there. "The big party is almost awakening; you have to be the first there. You are the star."

"Very encouraging, mother." He said while holding out a diamond necklace, examining it in the light. "I will leave when I am ready." He walks over to me and puts the necklace around my neck. "This should help you."

I touch the necklace. It's cold on my skin. "Help me what?"

"Not look like such a thoughtless fool." His mother responded, and I shoot her a nasty look, which she has no problem returning.

"You best be ready in ten minutes." She tells him, "I will not allow my son to be late." We watch her walk out of the room. Her dress flowing behind her.

Inanis takes the short time we have by saying, "We should leave before she comes back."

"Though I agree with you," I'm already standing from my chair and I can't stop myself from asking, "Why is she even here?"

"My mother is a parasite." Is all he says, and I don't need to know any more than that. He takes hold of my arm and pulls me out of the room. The party is located on the opposite section of the white house, so, along with some special bodyguards, we begin to make our way there.

"Let's hope," Inanis begins, "that this is over quickly."

"Perhaps we could sneak away?" I was feeling nervous. I have never been good around crowds and knowing these particular crowds will be of nothing but important, narcissistic, wealthy people did not ease my mind.

"That will be difficult." He explains, "Especially because my mother is here."

"I don't like her."

"And she is not very fond of you either."

"I haven't noticed."

Up ahead we see some women in luxurious gowns, along with men in what I could only imagine were extremely expensive suits, walk together into the room where the party was to be held.

Inanis and I say nothing, as we entwine our arms together, and head in.