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She was quick, funny and sharp, and Mrs. Fisher clasped her hands together like she was having a religious experience.
Tristan didn’t really understand how. Politics was so boring, and he’d been dragged to too many of these things over the years so that, if they’d ever had any shine, they’d lost it ages ago. Really, the only redeeming feature was the free champagne and decent food.
He reached over and helped himself to a salmon and cucumber canapé from his dad’s plate. Making eye contact with Mrs. Fisher and holding it, he poked his tongue out and slid the cracker onto his tongue like a communion wafer, then made a show of chewing and swallowing. “I do love cucumbers,” he said. “Sometimes I even like them as food.”
Leo made a choked-off sound, and Kev didn’t even bother to hide his amusement, laughing loudly. Mrs. Fisher blinked, then, in an obvious desperate attempt to draw attention away from Tristan, said in a slightly too-loud voice, “I’ve spoken to her, you know. Lillian Kingsbury, that is. In person.”
“Oh, really?” Steve said.
“Yes,” Mrs. Fisher gushed. “I called her office to see about getting an extra ticket for Leo’s plus one”—her nose wrinkled in distaste—“and she answered the phone herself.” She addressed Tristan. “So really, you have Lillian Kingsbury to thank for being here at all.”
“I have to thank Lillian Kingsbury for being here?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. “Well, I suppose you’re right, so I’ll be sure to do that.”
His dad laughed.
“Mum,” Leo said. “Can you…?” He made a face. “Can you calm down?”
It didn’t work. It had the opposite effect. Mrs. Fisher glared at him, then at Tristan, and her face turned a very unhealthy shade of pink. “You want me to calm down? You’re the one ruining everything, Leo! You and your disreputable…friend. People are looking at us! I don’t know what your father and I have done to deserve this!”
Tristan rolled his eyes and sighed. He leaned towards his father and said in an undertone, “How much midazolam do you think it would take to sedate her?”
His father hummed thoughtfully before murmuring, “Are you going to ask her how much she weighs?”
Leo tensed beneath Tristan’s thighs. “Are you—? I mean, how do—? You know what? I’m afraid to ask how you know how much it takes to sedate an adult.”
Tristan flashed him a bright smile. “I need to know, babe. It’s part of my job. Or, it will be.”
Leo looked even more confused. “And how—how do you know Steve?”
“He’s going to be my boss, eventually. I still have to do a year’s general surgical rotation, but after that the plan is for me to join the practice.”
“For my sins,” his dad said, and slapped his hand away before he could steal another canapé. “Stop it. You know the food is the only reason I’m here.”
“The food and the fact you have a crush on the speaker,” Tristan teased.
“Will you stop it!” Mrs. Fisher hissed across the table. “Lillian is speaking!”
“Oh,” Dad said with a smile, “you hear one of her speeches, and you’ve heard them all.”
Leo was staring between them, looking like someone had slapped him upside the head with a four by two. “You’re…a dentist?”
“He’s a disgrace is what he is!” Mrs. Fisher snapped.
“Excuse you,” Tristan said, loudly. Loudly enough that people at the other tables were looking at them again. Even Lillian Kingsbury stopped speaking. “I might be a fucking disgrace”—he winked at Leo—“but also, babe, I’m not a dentist. Once I graduate, I’ll be an oral and maxillofacial surgeon.”
Leo blinked. “Is that not the same as a dentist?”
It was Dad’s turn to glare. “No, it bloody well isn’t.”
“Please, just leave,” Mrs. Fisher said. “I don’t care who you are or what you are. Please go!”
A posse of nervous waiters was heading for their table.
“You do care,” Leo said. “You care too much about things that don’t matter! You’re so sold on the idea that I have to be the ‘right’ sort of gay—whatever that is—that you don’t care about what I want or who I am!”
“Son,” Leo’s father interrupted, “you have to understand, it’s all about the optics. We can’t be seen to have a son who associates with someone like”—he pointed at Tristan—“well, that.”
Leo stood and threw his linen napkin down on the table. “I don’t give a fuck about the optics!” he yelled.
