Boyfriend looking over his shoulder: “Diablo”
Girlfriend beside him: “Bayside families needing childcare”
Woman he’s staring at: “Waterfront luxury development”
Gabriel shoots to his feet. “I can’t believe this.”
I can. Luna crushed it. The following hashtags are trending.
#MakeitRayne
#OutofTouchDiablo
#DiabloDisrupted
“Just means we have to come back strong,” I say, running through key messaging points and pressing him about childcare the way Kane will.
“When I took office,” he replies, defensively, “we had more urgent issues, like infrastructure.”
“Let’s avoid making it sound like childcare wasn’t a priority,” I remind him. “Supporting all families is important, then pivotto how you’ll do that. And,” I add, “When you get tense, your smile looks like you’re gritting your teeth. Viewers will notice.”
“Jesus Christ. I know how to smile.”
“Keep it in mind just the same.”
He huffs, but I know he’ll take my advice. He’s nothing if not committed to winning.
Diablo just saw what everyone else did. Rayne Webber isn’t just running for mayor anymore.
Today, she looked like the one to beat.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rayne
As soon as my segment ends, the adrenaline in my veins hums louder.
That was intense.
My mouth was so dry I thought my lips might stick together. Even the nerves I felt before going on air were nothing compared to the wave that hit under those hot studio lights. But I remembered what DK said about being myself, and Anika’s advice to talk directly to the viewers. Both helped. For fifteen minutes, I answered questions and laid out why I should be mayor—broadcast to thirty-eight thousand potential voters. The more I spoke about the issues and shared my personal stories, the more the nerves eased.
But now my bladder’s on fire from the buildup of stress. When an assistant relieves me of the mic, her movements quick and efficient, I make a dash to the restroom.
On my way out, I pass DK and Diablo huddled inside the greenroom. DK glances up, and the glint in his eyes says what he can’t in words. I recognize both the support and the heat?—
You nailed it.
I want you.
I pucker my lips in an air kiss, letting him know how much I appreciate his support… and how badly I want him, too. Then I meet the car that Anika arranged to take me back to the campaign office and catch Diablo’s interview.
Just two weeks ago, this was a storefront for lease on the boardwalk. I pause on the sidewalk to take in the embossed glass:Elect Rayne Webber for Mayor. My ten-year-old self, who dreamed of being president someday, would be so proud. The inside still smells like fresh paint, and the space is a skeletal version of my vision, but it’s alive with my campaign colors: reliable navy, trustworthy light blue, and the fresh simplicity of white.
Four folding tables line the back wall, draped inMake It Raynebanners. Three volunteers are on the phones, their voices a low buzz as they read from the voter script taped to the wall. I wave to them, and they wave back. Corrugated plastic yard signs sit in a corner. A giant map of Bayside is tacked to a corkboard with yellow pushpins marking the neighborhoods we start canvassing next week.
A mounted TV is tuned toThe Bayside Brief, the news wrapping up before Diablo’s segment.
“Hey, queen,” Anika greets me with an exaggerated curtsy, because she’s ridiculous and extra like that, which is why I love her. “You are blowing up. There are already ten thousand views on your clip, and thousands more who watched your interview live. Did you see #DiabloDisrupted is trending? You knocked that man off his throne.”
