“Mr. Grayson, is everything alright?”
“Uh– yeah. Yeah. Everything is fine.”
“Is that a yes on your end?”
I didn’t recall what the conversation was about. Neither did I recall what I was agreeing to. But, the smile on Matte’s face assured me it was the right answer.
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Now, we just have to get these papers filed and hope for the best. I have a great feeling about this.”
“Wrapping this campaign up in less than two months. We’re in the home stretch. No hiccups and we’re all good. Keep doingwhat you’re doing, Mr. Grayson, we’re almost there,” Cameron cheered.
Applauses from around the room rang out. I lifted a hand to settle my team down.
“Listen–” I blackened the screen of my cell and stood on my feet.
The broad smiles began to fade. Curiosity spiked the temperature in the room. I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the first button on my shirt.
“At any minute, a shit storm is coming our way. I’ve been contacted several times regarding images taken in an attempt to falsify their origins. A few days ago, I traveled to Clarke to catch up with someone from my past.
“I got lost and the GPS was of no use. I stopped to ask a young woman for directions and turns out we were headed to the same place. She took the wheel and got me to my destination safely. After my night ended at the bar of the hotel I was meeting this person at, I bumped into the young lady again.
“She realized I’d had one too many drinks and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to drive home in my condition. So, she was kind enough to make sure I got into one of those hotel beds safely. I didn’t speak to her again after she left me there on the bed, fully clothed and intoxicated. Well, not until yesterday.
“That woman walked into my office. I’m sure you all seen her. She walked into my office prepared to handle the scandal that she happens to be the center of. I was sent a slew of images that misrepresents and undermines both of our characters. Her name is Royce. Royce Childers and you will be seeing a lot of her until this campaign ends.”
“Mr. Gr– How do we know she’s not the person behind the bla–” Matte asked.
“Because she’s not.”
“Okay, but what abou–” Cameron started.
“I am in no mood to say more on the matter at the moment. Just know that it is being handled. I need you to keep working hard. Eyes on your computer screens. We’ve got this.”
I exited the conference room without another word. Upon entering my office, I closed the blinds. At one point I knew I had this election by the balls. In the last forty-eight hours my perspective had been shifted.
While I was still confident in my abilities to head Berkeley, I wasn’t very confident in the people who were tasked with getting me to that point. The voters would be in an uproar the second those images released.
“FUCK,” I shouted, slamming my palm against the desk.
Papers flew off the edges, landing on the floor. I had faith in Royce’s resourcefulness, but it didn’t change the fact that someone was willing to sabotage everything I worked hard for to obtain on a measly two million. Two million had touched my fingertips by the time I heard my mother’s voice on my line for my twenty-second birthday.
Sixteen fucking years ago.
The money was insignificant. The principle, however, was abhorrent.
Unshakeable.
Repugnant.
My ringing cell did little to resuscitate my sanity. I answered without second thought.
“Speak,” I barked into the phone, uninterested in exchanging words with anyone.
But her.
“Ishmael.”
