I pointed at him. “Youdoresent me!”
Ben pulled off his glasses and stared at me with unfiltered blue eyes. “You cheated on me with Connor Holliday. And then Connor stole my ranking because I was stupid enough to be upset.Of courseI resent you!”
Well, second mystery solved: Ben Ladermandidhate me.
I spun on my heels and stalked around the table until I was close to him. “You won’t undermine the bill. I won’t let you.”
Ben didn’t back away from my invasion of his space; he leaned forward and flexed his fingers, like he wanted to grab me by the shoulders but knew he couldn’t, thanks to #MeToo. “I’m not going to undermine it, Stoner. I’m going to get it passed so hard the governor will let me do the next bigger and better thing.”
How dare he? There was no bigger and better thing than the Green Machine.
“I’m going to kick your ass so hard at passing this bill they’ll name it the Ben Laderman bill. Next year, everyone will try to remember the name of my assistant—”
“Assistant?”
“—who helped me, but no one will be able to recall much about you. Lee Stone, nothing but a fading memory. Just like you were the moment I drove across the California state line.”
And there it was. The final mystery solved. Ben’s revenge wasn’t to kill my bill. It was much colder. He was going tostealit. My bill, and my glory. And probably my promotion. If he thought I would roll over and let him do it, just because I felt bad about our past, he wassorelymistaken.
I leaned over the table and swatted his glasses so they slid down the smooth conference table like a puck down a shuffleboard. “Over my dead body.”
He smirked. “You don’t even have a strategy.”
“Don’t I?” The words flew out of me. “James Janus, youngest state senator in Texas and one ofTexas Monthly’s twenty-five hottest people in politics—a list that depends solely on publicist submissions, by the way, so he’s got an ego. Up for reelection, so he doesn’t want to do anything too radical to spook his voters. Convince his constituents they want to go green and he’s on lock. And he comes from a diverse district that skews young. Climate policiesandfemale-run businesses poll well there. They like our brand. He’s our easiest get.”
Ben arched an eyebrow, grudgingly impressed. “Senator Wayne is an old cowboy, about as red as it gets. His district’s all ranches and farms. Any brilliant thoughts there?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“And McBuck? How are you going to counter Mendax Oil?”
“I don’t know. How areyougoing to counter Mendax Oil?”
“Convince McBuck’s voters Mendax is evil or give them something they want even more.”
I rolled my eyes. “Obviously.”
“Luckily, I have an in with Mendax’s lobbying firm. I can keep my ear to the ground, anticipate their moves.”
My spine straightened. That connection was worth its weight in gold.
Ben leaned back from me and folded his arms over his chest. “Face it. You heard the governor—he wants us both on the campaign. No matter how much we hate it, we’re doing this together.”
“There’s no way in hell.”
“Have fun telling your bosses you quit.”
I crossed my arms. That was obviously the last conversation I wanted to have with Dakota and Wendy. “I guess...pooling our resources could be mutually beneficial.”
Ben smiled. “That’s the spirit. Why don’t we make it a competition—like the good old days?”
“I hate to break it to you, but getting a bill passed is a lot harder than winning legal debates and playing drinking games. Games you weren’t even good at, from what I remember.”
Ben ignored the dig. “We both give this thing our best shot, and see who’s better. Three senators, starting with Janus. The one who collects the most yeses wins.”
“And the loser?”
“Makes sense you’d want to know. The loser becomes the other one’s assistant for the rest of the campaign. I really could do with one.”
