“I just heard that Diablo hired a big-shot campaign strategist from Washington.”
“Washington?” I sit up straighter.
“He graduated from U Chicago Law School, where Obama once taught. Went into Washington politics right after: policy counselor, advisory work, campaign strategy for governors and senators. Why would someone with his credentials want to manage the reelection of a small-town mayor?”
“Gee, thanks,” I say dryly.
“You know what I mean.”
I do. I’m not offended. I’ve known Anika since we were kids, two idealistic girls with dreams of ruling the world. She left Bayside for college and worked in Chicago as an aide to a city councillor. Her resume may not have the same shine as this bigwig from D.C., but she’s Bayside-strong, and I trust her.
“Apparently, Diablo’s putting him up in one of his properties,” she adds.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah. I don’t see how it changes our plans. Am I missing something?”
“Well, for one, why does Diablo suddenly need a heavy hitter? As far as he knows, there aren’t any other candidates opposing him. We’ve kept your intention to run under wraps.”
I think about that. “It’s probably not related to the election itself. He’s smart and always looking two moves ahead.”
“The waterfront.”
“Exactly.” My hands clench. “He’s itching to get into bed with big developers. My guess is he’s stacking the deck with this strategist, who is probably well-connected. You know how they do, greasing palms? I’m sure he was promised leverage, influence—something. Otherwise, why would he be interested?”
“Mhm. Tighten up those gloves, this is going to be a showdown.”
“A fight I was going to have with Diablo, whether I ran or not.” I lean back, letting the calm settle back in. “As co-chair of the Waterfront Committee, I wouldn’t let him send in bulldozers unchecked. We play nice, but he’s well aware of where I stand.” A smile curves my mouth. “He thinks he can outmaneuver me, but he doesn’t know what’s coming for him.”
“You right about that. Your announcement’s going to be a major blindside.”
“He’s not expecting me to step into his arena. That’s my advantage.”
“Damn, girl,” she says, her grin audible. “You coming in hot for real.”
“Lit and ready.” I can feel the challenge igniting in me. “Forget this strategist. His credentials and motivation don’t matter. We run this campaign just as planned… and win.”
“Hell yeah.” I can picture her pumping her fist in the air.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Have the announcement ready.”
“It’s done. I’ll shoot it off unless you want me to wait until you’re here.”
“Send it over.” Usually, I wouldn’t work on my vacation, but this will be a good distraction. Something solid I can focus on to fill the space that feels emptier than it should.
Chapter Eight
DK
“Ah, here’s the birthday boy,” my mother, Naledi Ramos, calls out as I step into the backyard. I’d been running errands all morning, ticking off my to-do list in preparation for my move. Anything to stay busy. Anything to quiet the thoughts of Luna.
Smoke curls up from the braai, thick with the scent of boerewors and marinated meat. It’s been good staying here these last six months—back in my childhood room, surrounded by good memories, grounding myself in familiarity, reclaiming time I’d missed with my family since relocating to Washington seven years ago. At least I’ll be close now. Less than two hours away.
My father, Angelo, waves from the grill, tongs in hand. Neo lounges nearby, nursing a beer and giving me that look. The one that says:those cryptic texts aren’t going to cut it.
Me: Glad I stayed. We had a great time.
