Good call, I note. Down-to-earth. Relatable.
“Rayne,” the host repeats. “Now that the festival is over, will you be moving into your campaign office?”
“Yes, on Monday. I welcome voters to pop in any time. For me, campaigning doesn’t happen on the debate stage. It happens where the people are. That’s just one of the ways the mayor and I differ.”
“What the hell?” Diablo lurches forward in his seat.
“Gabriel,” I reply evenly. “Don’t let her rile you. She’s doing her job. You’ll get to do yours next.”
He sits back against the leather cushion, arms crossed.
“With all due respect, isn’t going from managing tourism to entering the political arena quite a jump?” Kane asks.
“No,” she says smoothly. “For years now, I’ve been public-facing on the issues that matter. While our current mayor is revamping his expansion plan—trying to make it more palatable—my vision has never wavered from two things. One, a robust local economy that supports our residents and business owners. And two, sustainable growth that brings new opportunities to Bayside without harming our waterfront.”
Diablo curses under his breath while I make notes like she was any opponent.
Delivery.
Composure.
Message discipline.
She’s strong in all three. Knows where to take her shots and which sound bites voters will eat up. On top of that, she isn’t over-polished or overly rehearsed. She’s authentic, continuing to speak about tying economic growth to community identity and putting substance behind her words.
“I’m sure you’ve heard concerns from your critics that being unmarried and without children prevents you from truly understanding family needs,” Kane says, pointedly.
I spot the irritation on her face—the tightening of her mouth and pinch of her brow. She doesn’t smile or try to disguise it. I sense that’s a personal choice over strategy.
“Frankly, I don’t understand the criticism. Married men with children have been running our country for decades, and marginalized families, in particular, aren’t doing better. In fact, they’re doing worse.
“Mayor Diablo’s administration hasn’t funded a single childcare program despite the increasing demand. His family can afford for one parent to stay home. That’s not the reality for most families.
“I don’t have to be married or be a mother to recognize the inequity. The mayor’s traditional bias lacks awareness—and disproportionately affects women, who, I might add, make up fifty-eight percent of the electorate.”
“She basically just called me an outdated chauvinist,” Diablo grumbles.
Yeah, she did.
As the segment continues, Luna speaks on diversity and why representation matters. How she grew up wishing she saw more women in leadership. Being raised by a single dad. Her vitiligo diagnosis and how she struggled before coming to embrace it and herself as she is.
Her stories are warm and personal. It feels like she’s chatting with you in your living room. That’s quite a skill.
As the interview wraps, the camera pans in on Luna. My fingers pause on the keyboard. My eyes trace the curve of her mouth—the way her full lips tilt at both corners, the soft lines bracketing them.
“Mayor Diablo,” the floor manager says, snapping the spell. “Makeup in ten.”
I pull my eyes from the screen, the image of her smile burned into my brain, and force myself back into role. I check out social media, with Diablo leaning over, reading the comments on the screen.
When you think you’re running the town…but she just schooled you live
Diablo’s face when Rayne dropped the facts
Me watching the single, childless candidate run circles around the mayor
Out-of-Touch Diablo cares about his kids. Just not ours.
And one post includes a distracted boyfriend meme.
