“He got the votes of everyone in that organization,” he went on. “And their friends. And their friends,” he added. “Donations aren’t just about money. They’re about other people putting their confidence in you. They’ll publicly endorse you, because they have a stake in your success when you have their cash.”
“Exactly.” I nodded, the chip still weighing on my shoulder. “I’m not here to play chess with these people and be their pawn.”
I twisted around, picking up an article I’d cut out from the table next to the window. “Look at this,” I shot out, holding up the clipping. “Senator McCoy here cut funding for after-school programs to reroute the money from the state to the city parks in Denver,” I explained. “However, the city parks don’t show that money in their quarterly budget. So where’d the money go?”
The question was rhetorical, so I didn’t wait for an answer. I dropped the clipping and grabbed the new printout I’d gotten off the Internet last night.
“And then this guy,” I started, taunting my brother. “Representative Kelley wants to cut funding to women’s clinics, because ‘why do women need a separate doctor from men?’?” I quoted him from the article and then looked to my brother, scowling. “This genius thinks both genders have the same reproductive system, and yet he gets to vote on legislation that determines medical treatment for women.”
I started laughing, seeing my brother close his eyes and shake his head.
“This is why I’m running, Jay,” I stated. “Not so I can be a contender in a popularity contest of who’s got the most fucking friends.”
“Oh, fuck you, Tyler.” He groaned, running his hand through his hair and standing up. “I’m going for a drink, and tomorrow I am rebuilding you from the ground up.”
And then he turned, making his way out of my office.
A drink?
I looked down at my watch. “It’s eleven o’clock in the morning!” I argued.
“It’s New Orleans,” he deadpanned, as if that explained everything.
“And another thing…” He spun around, walking backward for the door. “Start being seen with a woman in public.”
At that point I pursed my lips, pretty sick of all of his orders. “I thought you said me being single appealed to the ‘single woman vote,’?” I gritted out.
“Yeah, single. Not celibate,” he retorted. “You look gay.”
And then he turned around again, disappearing out the door.
I rubbed my hand down my face, feeling the back of my neck break out in a sweat.
Jesus Christ. Why was this so complicated?
Why was everything so complicated?
I didn’t want the Senate handed to me on a silver platter – I’d planned to work, and I was proud of my platform – but these fucking games… who I dated, what I wore, orchestrating fake photo ops with my kid, who happened to hate me, just so we appeared to have a close family… All of it was bullshit.
I knew CEOs who wrote off prostitutes on their taxes, politicians whose kids were on drugs, and civil projects funded by gangsters. All of these people put on masks to offer a clean, well-put-together appearance that was nothing but a complete lie.
I wanted the job, but I didn’t like pretending I was something I wasn’t, and I didn’t want to lose my freedom.
There was nothing wrong with me. I shouldn’t have to change.
I picked up the coffee Corinne had set on my desk and walked over to the wall of windows, staring out at the city.
My city.
The mighty Mississippi sat like the breath of life not far in the distance, busy with its fleets of cargo ships and tugboats as it calmly flowed past the convention center, St. Louis Cathedral, and the French Market.
I sipped the black coffee, strong and bitter the way I liked it, and noticed the storm clouds in the distance, rolling in from south of the river.
My city.
Life existed in every inch of it. Between the flowers and moss that popped out of the concrete sidewalk slabs, the chipped paint decorating the shops on Magazine Street, and the musicians strumming their guitars in the Quarter, there was so much I never wanted to change.
And so much I did.
That’s why I wanted to be in a position to give back and effect change in this city.
But I didn’t want to play by Jay’s rules. There were sides of me that I certainly didn’t want in the spotlight but that I didn’t want to hide either.
Like the part of me that had wanted to keep fighting her yesterday.
I narrowed my eyes, staring off out the windows.
I hadn’t meant to come off as such a dick, but she’d made me nervous. She wasn’t exactly approachable – not anymore, anyway – and her disdain was thick from the moment she’d walked into the room and seen me.
She acted like she hated me, and I wasn’t sure why I cared.
After Christian had been bugging me time and again about the damn phone, I’d finally had enough and decided, on a whim, to go in and deal with it. I’d intended to make an appointment, but then Shaw – who I’d gathered at the open house was a major kiss-ass – insisted on handling it now to appease me.
I’d waited, and when she’d walked into the room, her long brown hair spilling around her, I could barely handle it.
All I could remember was that same rich hair cascading down the smooth skin of her back as I followed her out to the balcony that night.
God, she was beautiful.
I didn’t care that we were fighting this morning, or that she looked furious with me. She was passionate, and if we’d been in my office instead, that meeting would’ve ended differently.