"I like your platform," said the old white guy as he shook his hand. "I'm afraid, though, that you won't be elected unless you look more Canadian."
This wasn't the first time Sunny received such casually racist comments disguised as helpful advice and, to prevent himself from punching him in the face, he held on to the man's hand, took a mental ten count and attempted to divine the origin of his concern. Nope. No insights occurred to him. "What's a Canadian?" he asked, turning to his tried and true speech in response to such tripe. "I was born here, in New Westminster, which is in British Columbia, which is in Canada, is it not? And Canada, if I remember correctly from my history lessons, is a relatively new country populated by immigrants from all over the world; I'm sure your ancestors migrated here from Europe, as mine did from the Punjab, as did many others who call New Westminster home, and we all did it without the leave of the Indigenous peoples who lived here for thousands of years before we arrived, and who are really the true Canadians here. I'd argue that I look as Canadian as anyone in this city, and I'm proud that New Westminster is one of the most diverse municipalities in the nation, and I'm running because I want to reflect that diversity on Council."
The man nodded shrewdly, took his hand back, made a polite goodbye, and left to mingle with someone else. Maybe he wouldn't get the man's vote, but he wasn't going to humour him to make him feel better about himself. He was done taking it, and he wasn't the only one. He was fortunate New Westminster was relatively progressive as cities went. Out east in Ontario, even now, political hopefuls like him were given such helpful advice as, "Take your turban off, you'll get more votes." Sure, and those same advisors probably wouldn't vote for long-haired hippies, either, which was how he'd look with it off, because there was no way he was cutting his hair. Yes, there were Sikhs who cut their hair, but that was their choice, and no one should be forced to change themselves just to make others feel more comfortable.
Elections were generally a popularity contest, anyway. You didn't have to win over everybody, just enough of them to count. That was the purpose of this meet and greet, to announce his candidacy and put himself out there.
It was a pretty full house, he had to admit. The banquet hall of the newly built Anvil Centre, on Eighth Street and Columbia Street, was a grand venue for his debut, and he was heartened to see so many had come to see him. Granted, the majority of them were from the gurdwara. The old white guy would have been hard pressed to find Canadians who looked like him in this crowd, but they were here, too, and it was brave of him to come out, at least; no matter what his attitudes were, at least he was engaged.
His partners at Westminster Law Group were here, many of whom lived in the city and promised him their vote. Other representatives of professional groups were here too, like Maurice Delacroix, president of the New Westminster Labour Council, a powerful influence in the city's politics; most candidates who received their endorsement got elected. Before the election had been officially called, Sunny had been invited to the Labour Council's Political Action Committee meeting along with the other candidates seeking their endorsement, and grilled for a good half hour. When he'd told them his dad had been a mill man in Queensborough and a shop steward with the IWA, and that he wanted to fight for ordinary working people in the city, he'd seen the smiles on their faces and thought he'd gone a long way to obtaining their endorsement.
Rodney Maxwell, running again for Mayor, was here with his wife and two young daughters. He was the youngest mayor the city ever had, and still popular, and was predicted to win again. His presence was a good endorsement for Sunny's campaign. The two had worked together many times on projects throughout the city, and it was his volunteer work that had gained him the suggestion from Maxwell that he should run.
Also here was Regan Nakamura, last year's Citizen of the Year in New West, who'd just narrowly beat him out for the honour. She was also running for Council, but there were six seats, and the two of them had similar platforms, so perhaps her presence here was meant to symbolically bind him and the mayor with her into a slate. He didn't mind that strategy. He liked and respected both of them. Regan actually reminded him a little of Lauren, although she was taller and wore glasses. Sunny could visualize the old white guy squirming as he tried to explain to Regan why it was a good thing Canada interned her ancestors during the Second World War, and chuckled to himself at the response Regan would give him; it would be less polite than the one he'd given.
He looked around for Tej, and found her with Harpreet and Ajit, warmly greeting new arrivals at the ballroom. Gorgeous and charming, she made a fantastic first impression, and a bottleneck was forming at the entrance because everybody wanted to talk to the brown goddess in the clingy black dress. He made his way over there, just so he could shake some hands and relieve some of the gridlock.
"Hey!" he said, putting a hand on the small of her back. "How are we doing here, my love?"
"Mom's taking too long talking to everybody," Harpreet grumbled. "People are waiting to get in, and I can see Naomi and them back there."
"Come with me, then, and we'll take some of the load off Mom," he said, taking his daughter's hand in his. "Ajit can stay with her." He sounded calm and jovial, but he was thrilled his friends were here, if what Harpreet said was true, and also a little nervous. This was a side of him his friends never saw, and he felt apprehensive bringing his two worlds together.
They made two greeting points, one on either side of the door, so that they could double the flow of the guests. Harpreet, to her credit, exuded some of her mother's charm, making a humorous counter play with her father; she was becoming a fine young woman, and he was terribly proud of her.
The faces he greeted wore mostly polite, curious smiles, and to his fortune he didn't get anymore earnest questions about where he came from, no, really came from, or how his turban was important to his identity. Maybe it was his perfect, cultured, accentless English diction that swayed people to think he was one of them, or at least a good immigrant who blended in.
Then one face approached him, and he took the man's offered hand before he realized who it was.
The blood drained from his face. "Jordan," he breathed.
"Hi, Sunny." The man was tall, white, brown-haired, blue-eyed, with a chiselled jaw. Handsome, sure, even Sunny could admit that; he wasn't insecure about his sexuality.
His comeliness wasn't the reason for Sunny's reaction. It was his very presence here after not seeing him in eight years. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
Jordan shrugged. "I live here now, I vote, and I saw you were running, so I was curious. I thought, maybe, it might be nice to say hello to you again."
"Uh-huh," he said, unconvinced. Jordan was here for another reason, but Sunny wasn't going to call him on it now. "You know my parents are here, right?"
Jordan's face fell. "Oh. You know, I didn't even know they were still alive, if you want to know the truth."
It wasn't his job to know, but Sunny wouldn't tell him that. "Yup. Dad's still hanging in there, but he needs dialysis now. Mom is pretty much his caregiver, even though she's slowing down." He cleared his throat and said, "It's already a night of excitement in their otherwise quiet lives. I'd rather not cause them undue distress."
Jordan nodded soberly. "I take it that's code for you don't want me here?"
Sunny shrugged. "It's a free country. I would appreciate, however, if you didn't talk to them. I don't want them to have any reminders of Bishan tonight."
Jordan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if the very mention of her name rocked him just as much as it did the brother who'd uttered it. Maybe it did. The man had loved her, for all the good it had done.
"I get it," he said. "I'll just mingle and listen to your stump speech, and take my leave."
"I appreciate that," Sunny said, eager to get him on his way now, because his friends and their families weren't far behind him in line, and he had no desire to introduce him to them.
"Who was that, Dad?" Harpreet asked as Jordan made his way into the room. He could tell she knew something significant had just happened.
He looked sidelong at Tej, who watched Jordan walk away with mouth open in bewilderment. She knew who he was, too. "An old friend," was all he would say.
"You mentioned Auntie Bishan. Did he know her?"
She was sharp, this daughter of his. He nodded. "A long time ago, before you were born."
She must have seen something in his face, because she asked no more about it. Auntie Bishan was a subject he rarely discussed with his children, because he still couldn't hold back tears whenever he talked about her.
The next time he looked up, he couldn't help smiling, because he saw Joe head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd. It took a few more handshakes with strangers before his friends finally stood in front of him.
"You made it!" he exclaimed, embarrassed to feel the sting of tears in his eyes.
Lauren was the first to crush him in a hug. "We wouldn't miss this for anything, you big goof!"
"Hey, come here!" Tej said, leaving her post to grab Lauren from him while he hugged Rachel. The three women seemed a lot closer even than they were before. Something about the summer they'd just had, when they'd all traded off childminding while the kids were home from school, and when they'd gone to Harrison Hot Springs together, had bonded the three of them in a way that seemed inversely proportional to how the men of the group had drifted from each other. It couldn't be helped, he supposed. Joe and Al weren't talking to each other, understandably because of Lauren and Al's affair, something Sunny suspected was happening ever since he'd witnessed their shocking make-out session at the Jack and Jill party Rachel had hosted two years ago. Joe was also living with the woman with whom he was also having an affair in compensation for the fact that Lauren and Rachel had been having an affair almost since they'd all reunited back in 2009. Of course, they'd only admitted this to him a couple of months ago, after it had become impossible to deny, because they hadn't wanted him to think any less of them. He didn't know if he should feel flattered that they respected him so much that they cared what he thought of them, or offended that they didn't think him a close enough friend to confide in him sooner.
He should have seen the signs, really; they'd have been there if he'd chosen to look for them. Rachel and Lauren had been the closest of them when they were younger, because the two of them had been outnumbered by the three boys, so it was only natural they would have a tighter bond now because of this. Maybe he should have interpreted their long, lingering hugs differently, and now something Rachel had said at that Jack and Jill party, about him having a problem with two women kissing, took on a new significance. Maybe neither of them had told him sooner because they'd thought he was against same sex relationships. If they'd bothered to ask him, though, he would have told them he had no problem with it at all (except now he couldn't get the image of the two of them getting it on out of his mind,) and that his religion didn't have a problem with it either. What he found extraordinary, however, was how convoluted the four of them had become. Rachel and Lauren. Al and Lauren. Rachel and Al and Lauren. Joe and Joanie. It was no wonder Joe and Lauren were now seeing a marriage counsellor, and Sunny was surprised Al and Rachel weren't on the rocks themselves. Maybe they felt they had to stay together because they couldn't abandon the two children they'd just adopted, or maybe they somehow made this whole mess work for them, because here they both were, with just one of their adopted children, looking happy and in love, which was more than he could say about Lauren, since she'd come in with them, while Joe was still behind them, and had probably come from Joanie's.
Looking at Al's boyish mug grinning goofily at him, Sunny couldn't fathom how he could have won either of them, much less both of them. He'd always been in love with Rachel; that had been evident even when they were kids. She'd been out of his league even then, though, and the in-between years didn't appear to bridge the gap in their respective attractiveness. Yet somehow, Rachel had fallen in love with the guy. Sure, he was a good guy, although... Lauren. That just wasn't cool, betraying one friend by sleeping with another, and Sunny's views on that relationship were darker than his views on Rachel and Lauren. Part of his disapproval stemmed from his sheer bafflement that Lauren, whose husband was physically superior to Al in many ways, would see anything appealing in the smaller, slighter man.
Another part was his burning envy at Al's incredible achievement, for hadn't he also fantasized about both of them, back then and since they'd reunited? Not that he would ever say anything, because unlike Al or Joe, he couldn't contemplate romantic involvement with friends, because he wouldn't want to risk destroying the friendship. He feared that was the road the others were travelling, now, and he didn't know what he could do to help them turn the car around.
"Look at you," Al said. "You told me once you were thinking of running, and now here you are. I just wish I still lived in New West so I could vote for you!"
"Yeah, sure," Sunny said sarcastically, giving him a quick hug. "If I remember correctly, you said maybe you would."
Al burst out laughing. "I was just shitting you."
"No, really," Sunny said, "I'm really glad you came. It means a lot just to have moral support from you all."
"Like Lauren said, we were so excited when you told us that we had to be here for you. We were only able to bring Emma, unfortunately. Logan couldn't be convinced to ditch a night out with his friends to come here."
"If I were his age, I wouldn't want to be dragged here either. At least Emma's closer in age to the rest of them."
Emma, Naomi and Tosh untangled from their parents to chat with Harpreet and Ajit, who cheerfully discarded their duties helping their parents host and walked away to find the drinks table. Rachel hugged Tej and said, "How does it feel to be the wife of a politician?"
"He ain't one yet," Tej replied. "Don't go making his head swell."
"You look fucking amazing," Rachel said, "I'm so jealous."
Was Sunny seeing things, or did he just see Tej squeeze Rachel's ass? It was lightning fast, so he could have written it off as a trick of the light.
"Come on in, guys!" he said to make his wife separate from his friend, because they were still clinging to each other. "We need to keep the line moving. Didn't I see Joe back there?"
"Yeah, he's with Joanie," Lauren said.
"Oh, Joanie's up and about?"
"Yeah, she'll be back to work soon. Desk duty, mainly, until she's a hundred percent. She'll probably get a promotion."
Sunny nodded and then spotted Regan making her way toward them. "Oh, Lauren!" he said, extending his arm to her and beckoning Regan over, "I'd like you to meet Regan Nakamura, who's also running for Council."
Regan, who clearly wanted to ask him something, visibly braked and looked at Lauren, who smiled tentatively at her. Sunny said, "Regan, this is Lauren Hasegawa, one of my oldest and dearest friends. We grew up together in Queensborough."
"Oh!" Regan brightened and offered her hand. Lauren shook it firmly. "I take it Sunny introduced us because we both have Japanese last names?"
"It appears so. I suppose he thought we'd get to talking about the Internment and become fast friends."
Regan chuckled and said, "So... was your family interned?"
"Yup. Yours?"
"Yup. Now that we got that out of the way," Regan said, "I just wanted to let Sunny know that the canapes are running low."
"Let me deal with that," Tej said, hurrying away on dangerously high heels. "You all keep schmoozing!"
"So, what do you do, Lauren?" Regan asked.
"I'm a private investigator."
"Seriously?!" Regan squealed. "That is so interesting, tell me more!"
It appeared Sunny's clumsy attempt to bring his two worlds together had worked after all, because the two women walked away, chatting excitedly.
Joe suddenly filled the room, and Sunny didn't fail to notice Al keeping at least two of Joe's long arms' lengths away as he and Rachel mingled, finding Mandeep Randhawa, the defence lawyer who'd once helped Al navigate his speeding and fleeing the police charge over a year ago.
"Buddy, congratulations," Joe said, engulfing Sunny in a hug that felt like he was being squeezed by an anaconda. "This is a wonderful spread, how'd you pull it together?"
"A lot of great volunteers who believe in my campaign, I'm lucky to say." Sunny saw Joanie beside him, leaning on a walking stick, and offered his hand. "It's so good to see you up and about."
She took it with a shy smile and said, "Thanks, Sunny. This must be so exciting for you! I had no idea you had political ambitions."
Sunny shrugged. "It's been brewing in the back of my mind for a few years now, and a few long time councillors are retiring in this election cycle, so I thought I would throw my hat in the ring."
"Now I wish I lived in New West!" she said.
"Funny, that's what all my friends have been saying."
She chuckled, and Joe gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder that nearly jolted him sideways. He watched them make their way into the banquet hall, parting the crowd like Moses the Red Sea. The two made an impressive couple, both incredibly tall, with only inches separating them. Had they lived a thousand years ago they might have been mistaken for a pair of Celtic warrior gods with their hair colouring, except Joe's family was Italian. Sunny had no doubt Joanie would have been able to wield that walking stick like a deadly weapon if she found herself in a fight, but the long emerald green dress she wore, with straps that showed off her impressive shoulders, balanced her powerful stature with a softness that drew the eyes of a lot of people. If Sunny didn't already know Lauren and the long time love she shared with Joe, he would have thought these two made the more natural couple, and it made him sad to think it.
Once the flow slowed to a trickle, and Tej returned with the canape situation under control, he decided it might be time for his speech. He consulted with his campaign manager, Tori Ramos, who also happened to be his paralegal but could have easily had a career as a brigadier general. She ran his practice with scary efficiency, and even scared him a little, though he would have never admitted it to her, because he couldn't live without her.
"I think most of our guests have had a chance to lube up with a drink," she said, never missing a chance to use innuendo if she could help it. Her dirty mouth was secretly one of the reasons he kept her on. She reminded him of Rachel and Lauren that way, and was in between the two of them in height, with jet black hair in an efficient neck length bob. She daringly wore a white pant suit, so either she wasn't planning on eating or drinking red wine tonight, or she was just good at not spilling on herself. Sunny would never have even taken the risk. "This might be the time to do it. You ready?"
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "As ready as I'll ever be."
She took the stage and made the introduction, and a wave of applause carried him up to meet her and take her place behind the microphone. He kept it short. Nobody wanted a speech that lasted longer than five minutes, and if he couldn't summarize who he was and why he was running in that amount of time, he wouldn't be a good orator. This was just a hello, nice to meet you, speech, an appetizer. There would be other speeches and a debate with the other candidates in the future, and he would have more opportunities to deliver the main course.
He touched on all the planks of his platform, like improving the lives of low income people, reflecting diversity on Council, and reviewing zoning bylaws to offer more options for families to be able to live affordably in the city. He spent a good deal of time talking about Queensborough, since he lived on the other side of the bridge and heard every day the problems people had commuting into the rest of the city, especially school children getting to NWSS. He'd never gone there himself, but he remembered how much trouble Lauren had getting there every day, depending on the kindness of neighbours to get a ride, when a school bus would have gone a long way to making life easier for all the high schoolers then and now.
"Finally," he said, "As a lawyer working in family law, I witness every day marriages sundered by abuse, and it's usually mothers and children that bear the brunt of the damage. I want to make it easier for women and children fleeing abuse to find emergency housing in this city, away from the reach of abusive partners. I want to coordinate a partnership between the city and the province to build an apartment building specifically for low income mothers and their children to get back on their feet again."
The applause that followed this statement was polite but not as loud as it was for some of his other planks. He suspected there were NIMBYists among them, wondering where such a building would be placed and how it would affect their property values. Lauren whistled loudly to make up for the lukewarm reception, then Rachel and Al cheered, and then Emma and the kids joined in with hoots and hollering. He guessed they thought their job was to whip up the crowd if they couldn't actually vote for him. He appreciated the sentiment. They understood such a place might have helped Danny Trybek and his mother escape his abusive father if it had existed back in 1979, especially if it had been in Queensborough, where he actually envisioned it going. That was the one detail he left out.
After he closed by inviting Tej and the kids on the stage, and basked in some more applause, he stepped off the stage and shook more hands, getting claps on the back from his brethren at the gurdwara.
Just as he was about to head to the drinks table (the speech had made him thirsty,) he was surprised to find Jordan approaching him again. The man had said he was going to leave when he finished his speech, but here he still was, and Sunny frantically looked around for his parents, who must have been looking to congratulate him.
"I liked your plank about the building for abused women," he said, surprising him. "I think that's one of the best ideas I've ever heard."
"Really?" Sunny asked skeptically.
"I know why you want to do it. If she could have gone to a place like that she might be alive today."
Sunny's mouth tightened. "If she never took up with you she might be alive today."
Jordan flinched, and to his credit looked ashamed. "If she didn't marry him she'd still be alive today."
Sunny sighed resignedly. "On that we can agree, at least."
"Look, okay, there's another reason I'm here," he said. "And you're going to hate me more than you already do, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least tell you what it is."
"I don't hate you. I don't know what she ever saw in you, but I don't hate you. So, what's the other reason?"
To Sunny's horror, Jordan's face crumpled, and he quickly wiped a tear from his eye. "Another girlfriend of mine has gone missing, and I'm worried she might have met the same fate as Bishan."
Thanks for reading this far! If you've read the previous three books in the series, you'll know that in each I make a different member of the Lawrence Street Detective Club the main character; first Rachel, then Lauren, and then Joe. This is Sunny's turn to shine, but as someone who isn't of Sikh heritage writing about a protagonist who is, I'm very cognisant that I might be unintentionally stepping on some landmines. If there is anything I wrote that doesn't ring true in the cultural and religious aspects of Sikhism, I'd welcome any comments and work to correct my errors. I strive for authenticity.
If you liked what you just read, hit the "Vote" button to send this title up the ranks.
Sunny's political campaign forms the backdrop for this title, and for the first time I'm letting the readers decide on a plot point. Should Sunny win or lose this election? Let me know in the comments, and I'll go with which choice wins the most votes.
To see the first flashback of where Sunny meets his sister for the first time, please click on "Continue reading."