Bi-Partisan, page 21
“What is it?” he asks, hooking his chin on my shoulder to look at it with me.
“An antique stethoscope—maybe from the fifties,” I say, smiling. “I remember seeing one like it at the Walter Reed medical museum.”
“Walter Reed has a museum?”
“Yeah. I went with my mom and dad when we first moved to DC. It’s what got me interested in medicine, actually—well, sort of. I figured out pretty quickly that human medicine would not be the place for me.”
“Yeah, you don’t like people,” he teases.
“That I do not.” I take another moment to inspect the stethoscope, then go to set it down.
“You should get it,” he says before taking a step back.
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeats. “It’s literally the perfect flea market find for you. It reminds you of something you saw in a museum that inspired your career.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need it.”
“I disagree,” he says brightly before plucking the stethoscope off the table.
“What are you—“
“Excuse me, how much for this?” he asks the person sitting in front of a cash box behind the table.
“Since it doesn’t have a mate, twenty bucks,” the seller says.
I open my mouth to say that it doesn’t have a mate because it’s an antique medical instrument, not a candlestick, but Jamie cuts me off before I can.
“Sold,” he says, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He fishes out a twenty-dollar bill and hands it to the seller with a smile. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”
“Jamie, you didn’t have to do that,” I say once we’re out of earshot of the table.
“Shh,” he says, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek as he places the stethoscope in my hands. “You clearly wanted it. Besides, I feel like we just got a crazy deal because that person didn’t know what this actually was. I’d guess antique medical equipment probably goes for hundreds on places like eBay.”
He’s right. It usually does go for a lot more than twenty dollars. He’s also right that something about it called to me. I’m just so used to that voice saying “but think about having to pack it later” being louder than any desire for something that will just sit on a shelf, unused.
But clearly, Jamie is even louder than that voice, and I think I really need that.
With a small smile, I tuck the stethoscope in the bag with my records. “Thank you,” I say before kissing him quickly on the cheek.
He grins. “Okay, well, with that mission accomplished, now it’s barbecue time,” he says, holding out his hand.
“It’s barely eleven,” I protest.
“It’s never too early for the world’s best barbecue,” he says, holding out his hand.
I fondly roll my eyes, but take his hand anyway to let him lead me to the car.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up in front of a small, almost hole in the wall restaurant in a strip mall.
“This is the world’s best barbecue?” I ask skeptically.
“No, that’s McCall’s, but that’s in Goldsboro and takes an hour to get to on a good day. This is my go-to place, though.” He goes to get out of the car, but stops. “Oh, wait, before I forget and become miserable later...”
I furrow my brow as he fiddles with a keychain on his keyring. When he unscrews some sort of cap and shakes a tablet into his hand, I can’t stop my frown. I’m not certain, but it’s safe to assume it’s an antacid. I’ve never realized he carries on his keychain before, but it’s concerning. It means his reflux is bad enough that he has to keep it on-hand at all times, and if it’s that bad, it may be causing long-lasting damage.
“Okay, good to go,” he says, screwing the cap back on his pill keychain.
“Are you sure you’re okay to eat barbecue? Couldn’t it trigger your reflux?” I ask carefully, not wanting to overstep or seem controlling.
“I’m usually fine, but that’s why I took an antacid. Now come on!”
He climbs out of the car, and I sigh before following suit. That wasn’t exactly the answer I was hoping for, but I don’t want to push it and make him mad at me. I’ll just have to pay attention and hope I can eventually convince him to take it more seriously.
The restaurant is a fast casual kind of place with a counter you order at before picking your own table. It’s also surprisingly packed, which I guess bodes well for the quality of the food. There’s at least one free table in the corner, though, which he points to.
“Do you want to snag us that table while I order?” he asks.
“Sure. I assume you’re picking my meal for me?” I say with a smirk.
“Yup, just trust me, darlin’.”
I shake my head fondly, then head over to the table. Within five minutes, he’s already walking over with two baskets of food and water bottles tucked under each arm.
“That was fast,” I say.
“That’s why I like this place. It’s fast and good.” He slides a basket with a pulled pork sandwich and chips and a water bottle in front of me.
I expect him to dig into his food, but he just stares at me. “You’re going to watch me take the first bite, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He watches with barely concealed excitement as I take a bite of the pulled pork sandwich. I suppress a laugh, not wanting to choke. He’s so excited he looks almost like a golden retriever, and it’s incredibly endearing.
“Well?” he asks before I’ve even finished chewing.
I take my time, then swallow before answering. I don’t know if it’s the best barbecue I’ve ever had, but the sauce is good—a combination of sweet, spicy, and vinegary that shouldn’t work, but does. “It’s good. I like it.”
And clearly, that is the correct answer because his grin widens, making that dimple of his even more pronounced. “Oh, thank God.”
“What would you have done if I didn’t?” I ask, hiding my slight concern with a teasing tone.
“Probably drive you all the way to Goldsboro for a second opinion,” he jokes. “And worry that there’s something deeply wrong with your tastebuds.”
“Well, now that you know there isn’t anything ‘deeply wrong with my tastebuds,’ can I eat my sandwich without you watching me?”
He laughs and picks up his own sandwich. “Eat away.”
Chapter 24
Jamie
Song: Bloom – The Paper Kites
“Alright, time for a quick refresher on media training before we get there,” Mina says from the backseat as I pull off the highway toward Mills Family Farm.
I glance over at Adrian in the passenger seat and catch him tense. Mina already gave him the run-down a few weeks ago once he agreed to join me for this appearance. She was thorough, even including general guidelines on what he should wear. He’d diligently taken everything in at the time, but I know the reminder will help ease his anxiety, which is why I suggested Mina drive with us to re-brief him. Wordlessly, I reach over and squeeze his hand.
“Someone from the Cary Chronicle is meeting us at the farm. It’ll just be them and one photographer. Jamie, I already sent your answers to the interview portion of the article, so all that’s happening today is coverage of your tour of the farm,” Mina explains.
“Who’s covering this time?” I ask. When I started running for office, I made a point of familiarizing myself with the local reporters that most often cover the political beat. I found interviews to be a lot less nerve-wracking when I could break the ice either with something I had in common with them or by complimenting a past article.
“Shauna Bailey, and I believe she said the photographer would be…” There's a brief sound of pages flipping. “Someone named Mike.”
I relax a little. I don’t know who Mike could be, but Shauna covered a lot of my campaign trail the first time around. She also sent me a kind private message (through Mina) after my coming out on Instagram, so I’ve got a good rapport with her. “Oh, good. You shouldn’t have too much to worry about with her, darlin’,” I tell Adrian. “She’s a sweetheart.”
“Speaking of,” Mina continues. “Adrian, your job is basically to just support Jamie. At a minimum, follow his lead and act like you’re happy to be there. But, since this is more your area of knowledge than Jamie’s, feel free to engage with the farm owners. Their names are Peggy and Rick Mills.”
“Engage how?” he asks, uncertain.
“Focus on the animals,” she instructs. “Jamie will probably ask a majority of the questions, a lot of which will be focused on the changes they’ve been able to implement with the grant they were able to secure and what needs they and the surrounding farming community still have that Jamie as their representative can work on helping them with.” She pauses, letting me know that was as much a reminder for me about my job as it was so Adrian knows what to expect.
I glance at her through my rearview mirror and nod.
“But if there is anything that sparks your occupational curiosity, ask away,” she continues. “The more engaged you look, and the more you seem to care about Jamie’s community, the better we will be able to combat the bullshit Mitchell keeps spouting about Jamie’s lack of loyalty.”
“But you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” I add. “I’m sure you taking a hands-on interest in the animals would accomplish the same thing.”
“That’s true. There will be a photographer there, and photos of a hot vet with some baby goats would also be good press,” she says matter-of-fact.
“Mina!”
“What?” she asks, indignant.
“Don’t objectify my boyfriend,” I scold.
“Don’t pretend like you aren’t actively plotting how you can sneak photos of Adrian with a goat without looking thirsty in front of a reporter,” she fires back.
Dammit, why does she always have to call me out like that? I feel my cheeks go pink and hear Adrian stifle a laugh next to me. I glance over again, and he offers me a small smile. Well, at least he seems to have loosened up a bit, even if it is at my expense.
“Also, don’t pretend like the same doesn’t apply to you,” she adds. “Young, attractive politician who cares about his community and cuddles goats is basically the headline I’m hoping for with this article.”
“I hate everything about that sentence,” I grumble. “But I trust you.”
When I see the sign pointing toward Mills Family Farm, I slow down and turn onto a gravel road. After about half a mile, the farm comes into view. Since it’s a Monday, the farm is closed to the public, so the guest parking lot is empty save for the car I assume belongs to Shauna and her photographer. I pull into a spot a few spaces down from it and kill the engine.
“Ready, darlin’?” I ask, turning to Adrian.
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly before nodding. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Then let’s get this show on the road. I’m tired of being cooped up in this tiny backseat,” Mina says, tapping on the back of the passenger seat impatiently.
“It’s not that small,” I protest as I undo my seatbelt.
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you sit back here on the way back?”
I catch Adrian chuckle again as he undoes his own seatbelt and gets out of the car. He bends to move the seat forward and extends a hand to help her more gracefully climb out from the backseat.
“I’m not climbing into the back seat of my own car in front of a reporter,” I tell Mina, my voice low, once we meet up near the trunk of my car.
“Likely excuse. Okay, quick ‘fit check,” she says, stepping back to appraise us.
Reflexively, I smooth out my navy blue polo, making sure it’s still neatly tucked into the jeans I wore so I’d look more relaxed and down to Earth—because, in the words of Mina, politicians wearing suits or even chinos to visit farms and factories always looks a little out of touch.
“Are you sure I don’t need to be more professional looking?” Adrian asks as he fiddles with the pushed-up sleeves of his henley.
I take a step closer to him and rest a hand on his lower back. “You look great,” I say, resisting the urge to press a kiss to his cheek.
“And you are dressed professionally,” Mina adds. “You’re a vet, not a politician. You’re dressed exactly how I’d expect a visiting farm vet to dress. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, but I don’t,” he mutters under his breath.
“Mina, can you give us a minute?” I ask.
She gives me a confused look, apparently not having heard Adrian, but nods. “Sure thing, boss.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away on it as she walks a few feet away to give us space.
When she’s gone, I turn to Adrian and slip my hand into his and squeeze to get his attention. I offer him a small smile. “Hey, this is going to go great. I promise.”
“How do you know that, though?” he asks, his eyes focused more on the barn in the distance than on me.
“Because you’re great,” I say with emphasis.
His eyes cut to mine.
“You are smart, kind, and personable—and I know you don’t think you are because you say you generally hate people, but we both know that’s not true. People like you.”
He nods, but there’s still a small furrow between his brows. It takes some serious restraint not to smooth it out with a kiss.
“What are you worried about?”
“I guess I’m just worried I’m going to make you look bad if I’m too quiet or… I don’t know. It’s just that I see the kind of scrutiny that politician’s wives get put under, and I know that’s doubled because we’re queer. And I know the purpose of this was to—” he stops short, realizing anyone could hear us even if we don’t see anyone. He blows a frustrated breath and stares down at his feet. “But it seems like it might be doing the opposite with everything Mitchell is saying, so I just wonder if it’s worth—”
“Darlin’, look at me,” I say seriously. “Let me worry about Mitchell, okay?”
He opens his mouth to protest, but I continue on, lowering my voice.
“The only reason he’s saying half the shit he is about me is because he thinks it’s his one advantage. He’s banking on being able to get people to question my loyalty because it’s easier than getting them to question my capability. I am younger than he is and the incumbent.”
“But the polls,” he points out.
I inhale sharply, then let it out slowly. “I know. This is a close race. But it was always going to be a close race. If none of this happened, if the photos had never come out, if he didn’t have our relationship as ammo, he would have just found something else to use against me. I knew that before I met you. Hell, me knowing that is why I met you. I went to The Lavender Gimlet that night to blow off steam because of how stressed I already was about this election.”
“And then you were outed,” he mumbles.
“Yeah, and that sucked,” I admit. “But you started to say that you wonder if this is worth it, and I would say, without a doubt, that it is. I like you, Adrian. I like having you in my life, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Mitchell’s words take you from me.”
His breath catches, and his hand tightens around mine. “Jamie…”
With a soft smile, I lift his hand to my face and kiss his knuckle—the most I can do right now without probably creating another scandal. “We really need to go, but I want you to promise me that you’ll let me worry about Mitchell, okay?”
“Okay,” he says with a nod.
With one last kiss to his knuckle, I let our hands drop to our sides, then lead him over to where Mina is still furiously typing on her phone.
“Ready, sir?” she asks.
“Ready,” I confirm.
We walk together up to the barn that acts as a welcome center and market on the weekends when the farm is open to the public. Shauna Bailey and the photographer are already there, talking with Peggy Mills, who greets us with a friendly wave when she sees us. As soon as we reach the door, Adrian drops my hand and stays a step behind me.
“Mr. Montgomery, thank you so much for coming all the way out here,” she says.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Mills. I’m looking forward to seeing the improvements you’ve been able to make,” I say, offering my hand for a handshake before turning to Shauna and the photographer. “Ms. Bailey, it’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Mr. Montgomery,” she says with a smile. “This is my photographer, Mike Hall.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” he says before adjusting the camera equipment on his shoulder to offer a handshake.
As Mina offers her own handshakes, I turn to Adrian and motion for him to come forward.
“And this is my partner, Dr. Adrian Wilks.”
Peggy extends her hand. “You’re a veterinarian, correct?”
“That’s correct,” Adrian says, smiling a little stiffly as he shakes her hand. “I mostly work with household pets, but I really enjoyed my farm rotation in vet school, so I’m excited to be here.”
She grins. “Well, then let’s get moving.”
I nod and gesture for her to lead the way. As we move, Adrian’s hand slips into mine. He doesn’t feel tense, though, and I can’t help but feel a little relieved at that.
The tour starts with the farm’s cheese and soap making facilities, which, according to Peggy, should be running well enough to start going back to farmer’s markets in about a month. They had to shut down that part of their operations when they started having trouble managing taking care of the goats. But thanks to the grant covering animal care and farm maintenance, they’re able to start production again. From my team’s research, it sounds like their story isn’t an uncommon one. The ability for farms to participate in farmer’s markets just keeps getting harder and harder with the lack of government support.
“Are you expecting more rescues soon?” I ask as Peggy brings us to the newly constructed barn, which isn’t currently housing any goats.
