He tapped his fingers repeatedly on the scratched wood surface of the deserted bar stand. Just only he remained sitting on one of the rickety bar stools. Depressed that this has been another boring day, doing what he hated the most. He thought coming into this room would make his day. However, his face told it all.

No booze. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Only the trims of rattails and dried up cobwebs filled the empty bar shelf.

But why would the son of Senator Talibeaux be in a bar in the first place. He's not even 21. He's only eighteen. Bradley knew the benefits of being that age. However, he understood the restrictions as well. The oldest of three boys, his two younger brothers—eleven-year-old Jacob and eight-year-old Nick—are not even in his league when it comes to this situation.

However, Bradley doesn't care as he convinced Wade, his best bud from private school, to bring him "the package". Bradley noticed a side door many yards away from the main two doors begun to open. A Black male holding on tight to a wrapped-cylindrical object stepped into the dusty barroom.

It's Wade.

"Hey, I'm here. But why you told me to come this way?" He asked.

"Making sure those wingnuts outside wouldn't spot you." Bradley answered.

"Wait your private detail?" Wade wondered. "I thought you said they weren't that tough."

"Hey this isn't New York or Los Angeles. They are not beefed-up goons standing outside. Passing them is like getting a constellation prize. They're whack."

"Or is it you didn't want me to get caught with this." Wade lifted the wrapped package up.

"That too..." Bradley smirked as he moved his left hand back and forth. "Come on, give it to me."

Wade relented, leaning out the package to Bradley. Bradley seized control of it, and ripped the brown wrapping.

"Whoa!" He glared at the reveal.

The package was a glass bottle of a '65 bourbon. Bradley seemed impressed.

"Had to take it from my grandpa's stash." Wade continued to explain. "He would kill me if he knew I stole this. He doesn't like his drinks being taken, so I'll buy another one from EBay."

"Thanks. Just what I needed." Bradley said. He placed the bottled down as he leaped over the other side of the bar stand.

"Yeah, whatever." Wade said discouraged.

Bradley searched around the bars and shelves, filled of dust and cobwebs. Suddenly he saw what he was looking for. He grabbed two dusty shot glasses. He blew the dust off, wiped off the excess using his white polo shirt. Wade looked back at the two doors scared if those guards could storm in.

Bradley grabbed the bottle and popped the cork open. He leaned it and the second shot glass toward Wade.

"Want some?" Bradley asked.

Wade still appeared terrified, heard what Bradley said. "I pass." Wade pushed the second shot glass back to Bradley. "What about your guards?"

"What about them." Bradley said passively. "Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum don't know the backside of a woman's dress, let alone abandoning me in a bar. As if they haven't learned their lesson."

His guards are the least of his problem, Bradley felt upset his best buddy won't join in with a drink. Wade may have a different reason he wanted to skip the drinking. There has been one person inside this room that has been trying to at least show a change. And it's not the bourbon boy. Wade needed to make a statement. He wanted to do this for his uncle.

Bradley knew Wade's Pop wasn't a good model. Wade's father wasn't truly at all. The man was an abusive alcoholic. Poor Wade had to be raised by his uncle when he was eleven. Tragically Wade's parents died in a fatal car crash. It was one of the biggest talks in the town back then. Wade's father was impaired badly; he clipped a semi-truck on their way home driving down Highway 18, nearing the western exit off I-310 to River Road.

Unfournately, Wade has been going down the same decline just like his pop. Though his uncle forced Wade to get back up quickly, he won't have to repeat his father's sin...with six feet under hovering above him. Who knew who else he would've brought. Wade understood that, and that has been why he wanted to show his uncle he can be different.

Bradley's another story.

He knew all of this, yet he has his own reason he deterred toward alcohol as his feel-good time. Bradley started to pour the bourbon in both glasses. Since he didn't have a drinking partner, Bradley considered himself his own partner. Unusual, but it worked.

He sipped both at the same time. Wade can't believe he did that. Just several seconds apart, Bradley reacted to the bitter taste. His eyes diminished; lips pucked in. He shook his head, feeling that wicked thrill.

"I want another." He said.

"You're nuts!" Wade exclaimed. He then surveyed the dusty ghost bar. "Why are we even in an abandoned hotel?" He wondered confusedly.

Bradley barely spoke a word. He hesitated to give a reason. His day has been improved already due to his drink. And like he needed no explanation, he poured another round in both glasses.

Without warning the wide doors facing the hallway are open. Wade reacted frightened. The two slim guards, both wearing all black and black sunglasses, to whom Bradley referred to as Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum—actually their names are Ricky and Kane—have entered. However, they don't ushered one syllable. They stayed quiet. Bradley and Wade paused uncertain what was going on.

Ricky and Kane each stood by the opposite door, while a shorter older female with grayish-blonde hair walked in. Looking all professional, she has a clipboard clinched tightly by her left chest. She looked stunned to spot Bradley by a bar...again.

"Oh, Bradley!" She said disappointedly. "Why do you put your family's name in such turmoil?"

Bradley lifted one glass up and saluted to her. "To you Natalie." He smirked quickly, then sipped the third and forth shots.

Natalie has been annoyed by Bradley's childish and selfish behavior. She sensed his father won't like this. This was supposed to be a working day. Guessed it hasn't ringed to Bradley yet. For the senator and Natalie, it has been hard to teach him the true value of respect and fortitude.

Natalie has been the personal aide to Senator Talibeaux during most of his tenure. She has more knowledge to the Talibeaux's dirty secrets than the family themselves. She has even been more of a mother to Bradley and his two younger brothers than the real Mrs. Talibeaux. Natalie vexed time and time again as Bradley's continuous, tainted image has been portraying all but negative publicity in many local and political circles; many of the senator's rivals are pouncing for more vilification towards the embattled senator. He barely won the recent reelection. And his son didn't help his cause.

Natalie, the invisible fixer, has been doing her best to try to undo the harm. She couldn't understand what happened to Bradley, where this toxic behavior came from. She knew him since he was six—before his father took the senatorial role. She had tried, and tried her best to repair his image, but everytime she found a way to seal the many damages. Bradley found ways to create a new fracture.

It has been impossible to control everything inside and outside the Talibeaux family, but Natalie has remained resilient. She has too, if she has to take care of a family dominated by males.

"Don't forget about the photoshoot." Natalie said.

Bradley looked bewildered. "So that was the reason I came here. I literally forgot."

"Remember now!" Natalie ardently pushed, pinpointed to her watch. "It starts in minutes." And then she paused, almost disgusted at what she seen. "Now I got to push the start back. Have you looked at a mirror?"

Bradley glanced around himself. "I look okay."

He would say that, yet but to others his short wavy hair appeared messy, his polo shirt appeared disheveled.

"Bradley, please fix your aspect." Natalie implored. "I can't hold up the photoshoot for much longer. You need to do this."

"This wasn't what I wanted."

"Just look presentable."

Bradley tried to appear satisfy, finally obliged. He slid his finger down the bar stand wood. The loud squeak can be heard as if a pen dropped to the floor. He held onto the bourbon bottle by his side, but Natalie took it just as he reached the entryway.

"I'll take that."

"Ugh!" Bradley quietly detested. "Can I at least have a happy day?" He asked.

Natalie sternly stayed still, not even her lips moved a muscle. She remained firm. Bradley can't win this time, angrily stormed off. Ricky and Kane followed him—after all they're his private detail.

"Get it done, Bradley! I mean it!" Natalie reminded him.

Bradley's raucous voice echoed out from the hallway, "Oh happy, happy me!"

Natalie then looked back to see Wade. Wade innocently walked by her, afraid of what she would do to him. "He invited me."

"And you brought the booze." Natalie added.

Wade lean his head down upset.

"Go, get out of here. I'll cover you this time. But..."

Wade nodded, understood as he exited.

Natalie sighed, knowing this was going to be one of those days.

~~~

Bradley tightened his tie, looked at the long narrow mirror—freestanding adjacent to the photo set—for correction. He knew he can't ignore this stupid thing, he glanced at himself overall. The charcoal-colored suit and pants, with the red tie straightened to his dress shirt collar. His wavy hair gelled for the event. In a bizarre circumstance, he finally looked like a well-dressed young male. His father would be proud, if he was here.

Bradley felt surprised when he overheard a female's soft-spoken tone, "Looking good!"

He turned to see her. She seemed to be in her mid twenties, wearing a rock and roll-style jacket and rip knee-cut jeans; a cap on her head, covering her wild hair. Then there's the scarf around her neck, covering her whole upper body. And that large piercing on her lower nose lid.

"You're the aid. You know the photographer's aid?" He questioned.

She laughed folding her arms. "I am the photographer." She replied.

Bradley looked fascinated. "You're rocking hot!"

She felt something, but obviously wanted to move on. "It's best to focus on the session."

He smirked and bowed his head. He walked near the white background, standing still, as the fill light, back light, and key light are surrounding him. He gazed at the female photographer setting her camera on top of the tripod. Bradley appeared to stand in a static pose, but sensed his tie is bothering him.

Natalie, standing near the photographer, fervently signaled Bradley to concentrate. Yet he was never focused on this from the start. The photographer then announced to everyone she was ready to begin. And like Natalie, the photographer wanted Bradley to focus. Bradley tried, but after drinking a lot of bourbon. He can't tell if he's lucid. But the photographer began her capturing. She took several shots, leaned behind the camera while instructed Bradley to stay still, held on to his lapels, and then put his hands inside his pants pockets.

He was supposed to smile or even looked striking, yet was more seductive. He has not being professional, just the total opposite; showed off facial expressions that may be tantalizing to the photographer, but a clear peeve to Natalie. Having experienced his selfish antics before, she hastily ceased it.

"Stop! Stop!" Natalie yelled. She then apologized to the photographer for interrupting. But she felt being this interrupter has been part of her ever-growing repertoire.

"Is everything okay?!" The photographer said still baffled. She can't understand what the halt was for.

Bradley understood mildly. "Natalie, what's this?!"

Natalie still holding that clipboard firmly to her chest, walked closed to Bradley. "You just don't understand do you? This photo's going to be on a unique social network."

"Well I didn't want this remember. I bet Facebook is more valuable than this network."

"This virtual magazine had sacrificed their time to do this for..."

"For who?!" Heard it like an insult. "For me, we all know who's this is really for. So don't paint me like a fool."

"No Bradley, you're not. Your father gracefully spent hours setting this up. These pictures are supposed to be professional. Can you ignore your tainting until you exit this place."

Bradley has nothing to say.

"For once in your life, try and behave like a senator's son, and not a donkey." Natalie demanded.

Bradley shook his head disgusted, but bent his head down to take it. "Okay." He mumbled. Natalie refused to go, wanted to hear a louder response. Bradley already hating it can't go through anymore of this suffering. He agreed, this time in a thick voice. "Okay!" He repeated.

Natalie took it as solace, allowed the photographer to get back to her job. Bradley don't show off his enticing looks. He wanted this to end.

And for once, he will act like the spoiled brat, but not the way he has been exhibiting.

A senator's son, he shall be for now.