the servers. I don’t know much, but I’d been around the block enough in my teenage anarchist days to know people who know how to do a file dump. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not that old.” Alex laughs, and Luna laughs too, and it’s a relief, like the air coming back in the room. “Anyway, getting it straight to you and your mother was the fastest way to expose him, and I knew Nora could do that. And 1... 1I knew you would understand.” He pauses, sucking on a Skittle, and Alex decides to ask. “Did my dad know?” “About me going triple agent? No, nobody does. Half my staff quit because they didn’t know. My sister hasn’t spoken to me in months.” “No, about what Richards did to you?” “Alex, your father is the only other person alive I’ve ever told any of this to,” he says. “Your father took it upon himself to help me when I wouldn’t let anyone else, and I'll never stop being grateful to him. But he wanted me to come forward with what Richards did to me, and I... couldn’t. I said it was a risk I wasn’t willing to take with my own career, but truthfully, I didn’t think what happened to one gay Mexican kid twenty years ago would make a difference to his base. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” “T believe you,” Alex says readily. “I just wish you would have told me what you were doing. Or, like, anybody.” “You would have tried to stop me,” Luna says. “You all would have.” “Tmean... Raf, it was a fucking crazy plan.” “T know. And I don’t know if I'll ever be able to fix the damage I’ve done, but I honestly don’t care. I did what I had to do. There was no way in hell I was going to let Richards win. My whole life has been about fighting. I fought.” Alex thinks it over. He can relate—it echoes the same deliberations he’s been having with himself. He thinks of something he hasn’t allowed himself to think about since all this started after London: his LSAT results, unopened and tucked away inside the desk in his bedroom. How do you do all the good you can do? “Tm sorry, by the way,” Luna says. “For the things I said to you.” He doesn’t have to specify which things. “Twas... fucked up.” “Tt’s cool,” Alex tells him, and he means it. He forgave Luna before he ever walked into the office, but he appreciates the apology. “I’m sorry too. But also, I hope you know that if you ever call me ‘kid’ again after all this, I am literally going to kick your ass.” Luna laughs in earnest. “Listen, you’ve had your first big sex scandal. No more sitting at the kids’ table.” Alex nods appreciatively, stretching in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. “Man, it fucking sucks it has to be like this, with Richards. Even if you expose him now, straight people always want the homophobic bastards to be closet cases so they can wash their hands of it. As if ninety-nine out of a hundred aren’t just regular old hateful bigots.” “Yeah, especially since I think I’m the only male intern he ever took to a hotel. It’s the same as any fucking predator—it has nothing to do with sexuality and everything to do with power.” “Do you think you'll say anything?” Alex says. “At this point?” “T’ve been thinking about it a lot.” He leans in. “Most people have kind of already figured out that I’m the leak. And I think, sooner or later, someone is going to come to me with an allegation that is within the statute of limitations. Then we can open up a congressional investigation. Big time. And that will make a difference.” “T heard a ‘we’ in there,” Alex says. “Well,” Luna says. “Me and someone else with law experience.” “Ts that a hint?” “It’s a suggestion,” Luna says. “But I’m not gonna tell you what to do with your life. I’m busy trying to get my own shit together. Look at this.” He lifts his sleeve. “Nicotine patch, bitch.” “No way,” Alex says. “Are you actually quitting for real?” “Tam a changed man, unburdened by the demons of my past,” Luna says solemnly, with a jerk-off hand gesture. “You fucker, I’m proud of you.” “Hola,” says a voice at the door of the office. It’s his dad, in a T-shirt and jeans, a six-pack of beer in one hand. “Oscar,” Luna says, grinning. “We were just talking about how I’ve decimated my reputation and killed my own political career.” “Ay,” he says, dragging an extra chair over to the desk and passing out beers. “Sounds like a job for Los Bastardos.” Alex cracks open his can. “We can also discuss how I might cost Mom the election because I’m a one-man bisexual wrecking ball who exposed the vulnerability of the White House private email server.” “You think?” his dad says. “Nah. Come on. I don’t think this election is gonna hinge on an email server.” Alex arches a brow. “You sure about that?” “Listen, maybe if Richards had more time to sow those seeds of doubt, but I don’t think we’re there. Maybe if it were 2016. Maybe if this weren’t an America that already elected a woman to the highest office once. Maybe if I weren’t sitting in a room with the three assholes responsible for electing the first openly gay