The yard smells of spice rub and charcoal. My aunt presides over the buffet table in a cream silk blouse and navy slacks, giving last-minute orders to the staff. For once, this is not an event that I had to organize. When it’s at the house and for a small crowd, my aunt likes to be the hostess. In reality, the party is made possible with a ton of caterers and staff.
My uncle pretends to work the grill, tongs flashing in the sunlight as he flips steaks someone else cooked and he’s now warming up. Their guests cluster by the hedges, white wine in hand.
I slide around the periphery, tracing the shadowed line where the patio meets the grass. I almost think I’ll make it all the way to the drinks table, but then my aunt’s voice, sharp-edged, cuts through. “Darling, come, you really must say hello to the Shaws. They golf with your uncle, you remember.”
I smooth my hair and wipe nervous hands on my mint green sundress. My aunt beams at me, but as usual, her gaze is calculating. How best to use me, how often to remind me where I’d be without them.
My uncle tips his glass in my direction, a gesture meant to be both affectionate and possessive. “Look who decided to join us. Perl, about time you got here.”
“Hi uncle,” my voice sounds smaller than I want it to be.
My aunt’s hand briefly rests on my shoulder before she removes it. “Here’s our niece,” she says to the couple next to her. They nod with polite interest.
“Your uncle works so hard in the Senate,” the woman says, voice high and a little too loud. She’s already sampled the wine, apparently.
I nod. “He’s the best.” I look around, desperately hoping there’s a glass of wine for me somewhere. I’m here to confront my uncle and aunt about what Rik said outside the restaurant. Even they can’t be so cruel as to sell me for political favors. “Can we talk?” I ask my aunt.
She frowns. “We’re in the middle of a party, Perl. We have guests.” She gestures around the lawn.
“It’s important.”
She huffs but walks with me down the lawn toward the tennis courts.
“Aunt Monica, did you and uncle tell Rik Kedrov that I would be his girlfriend in exchange for a large donation.” I hold my breath.
“You know, my heart aches when I think of your mother’s struggles. All those rehab stays. Do you remember how much it all cost?”
The question is rhetorical, but she waits anyway. I force a smile. “Yes, Aunt Monica. I’m grateful.” Anger heats my chest. “But I’m not your property. You can’t sell me. That’s human trafficking.”
“Oh, Perl. Sometimes you are so naïve.” She tilts her head, watching me with pity in her eyes. “Do you really not know how this game is played.”
“I’ve done my duty,” I bite out through clenched teeth. “I work hard on uncle’s campaign and I’m always available.” Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I have to take a breath to not cry.
My aunt plucks a leaf from a tree. “We told your mother repeatedly. ‘This will be the last time,’ we said. And still we paid for yet another rehab. Another health clinic. You mustn’t ever forget that.”
My throat closes up, and I can’t speak.
Aunt Monica shreds the leaf. “Your mother’s cost us a fortune, Perl, and not in dollars alone. The optics, you understand?” She glances at the donors, and my uncle holding court. “Imagine if the press had gotten hold of the full story.” She pats my arm and lets out a trill of fake laughter. “But let’s not dwell on such ugliness. I must get back to the party.” She pats her hair and walks off.
I stay behind, picturing my mother, hunched over the kitchen table, tears dripping into her mug as she promises me, yet again, that she’ll get sober. I want to scream, but I take a deep breath and rejoin the party.
The guests drift toward a large canopy that covers several tables. I follow, but my uncle slides up beside me.
“Stay a moment,” he says. “I have something to discuss with you before Rurik gets here.”
It takes me a moment to realize he means Rik. I nod, heart thudding. My uncle’s hand on my back feels loaded.
“You know we took quite a financial hit covering your mother’s… issues,” he says, as if rehearsing for a debate. “It isn’t proper to let a family member’s reputation drag us all down. We were generous, but generosity can only go so far.”
I watch my aunt mingling with the guests, her fake laughter loud enough to reach us.
My uncle clears his throat. “You’re not a child anymore.” I trace the cracks between the patio stones with my toe. A sinking feeling lands heavily in my stomach. I already know what’s coming. Family means obligations. Gratitude means obedience. “Which brings us to Rurik,” my uncle continues.
I look up at him. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t sell me to a man you just met.”
He looks at me as if I’m missing the obvious. “Rurik’s been generous. Extremely. Our campaign fund received a very helpful contribution. Much larger than we expected, frankly. And he’s opening doors in the tech world for me.”
I swallow, slow and carefully so he doesn’t see my pulse hammering in my neck. I knew Rik donated, but not that he connected my uncle with the one sector into which he always looked for an inroad.
While I’ve tried to compose myself, my aunt has joined us. “We explained, Perl, that you’re able to reciprocate Mr. Kedrov’s interest. He expects a relationship, of course, and it’s only right you move in with him. After all, with some help, you’ll be pretty enough and you have a degree, which can be a plus.”
I blink. My aunt has mastered the art of insult laced with a compliment.
“I can’t just move in with a man I’ve just met.”
My uncle’s mouth tightens. “He expects it, Perl. You’ll make yourself useful, and in return, your debts to us will be resolved. It’s a simple transaction.”
A gust lifts my hair. I wish I could blow away with it. “I don’t want to be traded,” I whisper, barely able to look them in the eye.
My aunt rolls her eyes. “Don’t be melodramatic. This isn’t about trading. It’s about doing your part. Your mother nearly cost us everything we’ve built, and your uncle’s reelection depends on Rik’s connections. Donors like him aren’t easy to find.”
My uncle leans in, voice hard. “It’s gratitude, Perl. You show you’re loyal to family by doing the hard thing.”
He turns, gesturing for me to follow as he walks toward the tables filled with guests. In shock, I automatically trail after him, but my aunt grabs my arm. “Did you think you were special?” she hisses in my ear. “Did you think you wouldn’t have to do your duty, like the rest of the women in the family had to? Well, except for your mother. That bitch found a way out through the bottle and drugs.”
I stare at her. “What are you talking about?”
Her hard eyes blazes. “I grew up in a family just like this one. My parents groomed me to be the perfect wife and then traded me to the most successful candidate that would have me in exchange for power.”
My jaw drops. “I thought you met uncle at a political rally in college.”
“That’s the official story. But every woman in powerful families is currency to be used as the men see fit.” She walks back across the lawn to the tables under the canopy. She and my uncle seat themselves at a center table, where everyone can see them.
I want to leave the party, to escape, but I don’t dare make a scene. And so when they wave for me to join them, I take the chair beside my uncle. My place, not chosen but assigned.
The small talk around the table is mostly about politics, school budgets, city crime, and the latest trade bill. Uncle Gahr spins story after story, and the men nod, the women laugh politely.
My aunt leans over, fingers tapping the space next to my plate. “Better put a smile on your face, or people will think there’s something wrong with the campaign.”
Inwardly I sigh, but as much as it pains me to once again be ordered, I do as I’m told.
“When Mr. Kedrov asks about your family, you mustn’t talk about your mother’s drinking. We want him to continue supporting your uncle and a looming scandal might make him change his mind. And make sure you please him.”
I want to slam down my fork and run, but I pick at my food, throat thick. This magical connection I thought I had with Rik is all a lie. He bought me because my uncle can help his business.
Dessert is served, a lemon tart in perfect slices. It’s my favorite, and yet I can’t manage a bite.
“Well,” my aunt says when the small talk around the table dies down. “I’ve sent staff to your condo and you’re all packed up.”
“I haven’t said yes,” I say, more firmly than before.
My aunt’s polite mask flickers. “You’ll do as you’re told. Your uncle can rescind the payment to your mother’s clinic if you resist. It’s all very simple.”
I push my chair back. Everyone pauses, looking. “Excuse me,” I mumble as I flee. Without a destination in mind, I somehow find my way to the end of the yard, next to the roses Aunt keeps for photo ops. I kneel, unable to stop the tears. Would I really risk my mother’s safety to refuse them? What choices do I actually have?
After a few minutes, my aunt walks over, voice low. “We put up with your mother’s weakness for years. Don’t embarrass us now. Mr. Kedrov is handsome and wealthy. You can at least act grateful.”
I nod, uncertain if I hate her more for what she says or how calmly she says it. My life is just another line item on a campaign spreadsheet.
“Mr. Kedrov’s driver has arrived and is ready to take you to your new home.” She leaves, her heels crunching on gravel. “And don’t think you can run away. We’ve changed the locks on the condo and cancelled your credit cards.”
I straighten and brush the dirt from my knees, and go to meet my new owner.
