A second passed, then another. We shared something in that suspended millisecond on my smooth wood floor. Was she watching me? I had to fight to stop myself from reaching out to touch her face. But the urge washuge.
Whatever this thing was, it was interrupted when a kid complained just beyond the wood panel of the door. Beside me, Veronica sprang up like ashot.
“I’ll get it. It’s fine. I should face him, you’re right, it’s just that he’s got so much more influence than I have, with his law degree and his family money and the kidsand—”
I stood and nudged her to the side, pulled open the door a few inches and spoke. “Yeah?”
“Oh. Oh, I just…Ahem.” Rylie, I guessed, fumbled and his wife stepped up to bat. Maybe the wrong person was running forcouncil.
“Hello there! I’m Tamara Rylie and this is Clint.” Clint. That made a lot more sense for a first name than Wily. “These are our children, Tyler and Tucker, and we’re here to tell you a little bit about our campaign for citycoun—”
“I’ve already made mydecision.”
“Oh, but our platform is based on strong family values.” She had one of those high voices, syrupy and long-voweled. “We’re a hard-line,progress—”
“Here.” I reached back and grabbed the sign sitting in my hall and passed it through the door. “Mind putting this in the yard on your way out? Thanks.” I smiled and closed thedoor.
“Oh…my…God.”
I turned to face her, arms folded across my chest. “You gonna beathim?”
“I’ll beat him.” Her voice wasshaky.
“You don’t soundconvinced.”
“The voters are the ones who needconvincing.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “I’mclose to beingconvinced.”
“Why?”
“You’readorable.”
“What? That’s a terrible reason to vote for som—” She paused, breathing audibly. “What do you mean I’madorable?”
“I like your passion. You believe in what you’re doing. Not to mention…” I tilted my head and frowned toward where I figured her stuff was. “You’ve got a good luck bunny tied to yourbag.”
“Oh.” She paused. “So… I have yourvote?”
“Tell me more.” I leaned against the door and waited for her voice to do that thing again. That strong, angry thing that got me workedup.
She swallowed audibly. “I’m the council member for thepeople.”
“Whatpeople?”
“People like me. People whose parents worked two jobs, but still couldn’t afford preschool or health insurance.” Her breathing was raspy, with that passion again and it did something to me. The more worked up she got, the more I wondered how it would feel to touch her. Was her chest moving up and down with the power of those inhales and exhales? Were her cheekshot?
“Did you know they’re cutting eighty percent of funding to resources that affect our area’s low-income families? Afterschool programs, nutrition, libraries. It’s all being cut, while the power company’s getting a tax break. They’re talking about jobs, but the only work coming is temporary. Two years of employment, at best, while they shove that pipeline right into our backyards. Once construction’s done, the jobs are gone and families will have evenless.”
“You a socialist?” I could feel her tense up, though we weren’ttouching.
“I believe in giving a voice to those who are under-represented.”
“You sure avoid direct answers.” Now I was just pushing her buttons. Of course, she probably didn’t know that. “That’s very politician-like.”
“I don’t believe inlabels.”
I waited for her to go on, but that was apparentlyit.
