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And who exactly am I?
I’m the man who won the Governor’s race two years ago. I passed signature legislation that will have a direct and material change on the people of this State, which will let them live longer.
Despite all of this, I don’t play who I am up to the media. I can’t exactly say the same about the King of New Kingston, though. Prancing around like royalty and cutting deals like an Emperor, this bastard must think himself above the law. Too bad that, as far as he’s concerned, I’m the law.
“Governor Andrews,” calls out a petite blonde woman, a pile of folders clutched close to her chest. I stop, looking
at her as she takes a deep breath and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Judging by her white button up shirt and professional tight skirt, she seems to be part of the Mayor’s entourage. “I’m here to take you to the Mayor’s office,” she says, her cheeks flushing the moment we lock eyes. “The… the Mayor already knows you’re here, and he’s waiting for you!”
“Good,” I tell her, politely smiling, “I’m on a tight schedule, so just lead the way.”
Her cheeks flush even more and she looks down at her feet, trying to avert my gaze. Eventually, she turns on her heels and I follow after her. We walk to the second floor and she takes me down a hallway, stopping in front of two wooden double doors, a grand entrance to the Mayor’s office.
“Go ahead, Governor,” she tells me, stepping aside with a coy smile. I look at her with a wide smile, reading the eagerness all over her face. I’d just have to say the word and she’d be on her knees in a heartbeat. But I didn’t come here to allow myself to get distracted; I have a job to do.
“Thank you,” I tell her, and reach for the handle of the door and turn it. I step inside the office, my pupils widening in response to the dim light inside: the curtains are drawn, and aside from a lamp in the corner, the lights are out. Standing behind a massive oak desk is Liam Jeffries, the infamous New Kingston mayor. He has his feet propped up on the desk, his hands behind his head, and a lazy grin on his face. I didn’t exactly expect a warm reception, but this is almost too much. I have the sense that he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me.
“Here he is—the wonder Governor in the flesh, Carter Andrews!” he says merrily, taking his feet from the desk and standing up. He draws the curtains, sunlight streaming into the room and filling it with a warm gentle light. Squinting his eyes, Liam extends me his hand. “Sorry, late night yesterday,” he tells me, not bothering to hide the fact that his late night had nothing do with work. He has “hangover” written all over his face. Not that it surprises me; from the stories I’ve heard, Liam lives for two things only: pussy and liquor.
“I figured as much,” I say, shaking his hand firmly. I can do without all the formality most politicians love so much, but Liam’s casual ways just manage to piss me off. After all, I didn’t come here to be his buddy. I came with a warning.
“So, what brings such a busy man to my humble office?” he asks, sitting back down on his chair and pointing to the other one in front of the desk, offering me a seat. I sit, unbuttoning my jacket, and prepare my words.
“You know why I’m here,” I tell him straight away, not wanting to beat around the bush. “The deal you’ve made … you have a few ways to call it off.
“Oh, you came all this way just to tell me that? You could've just called,” he props his feet on top of the table again, looking at me with that annoying grin on his face. “The answer is no.” I open my mouth to speak, but he raises his hand and cuts me short. “No means no. And it’s a fucking no, Governor.”
Here we go. He’s just a Mayor, and he thinks of himself a king. He has no idea how close he is to having the living daylights knocked out of him.
“Like I told the news when they asked, I got three words for you Carter,” Liam says, leaning back. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Liam,” I start, saying his first name pointedly, “Your deal flies in the face of the environmental legislation I’ve just passed.” I don’t give two shits if I’m disrespecting him by not addressing him as Mayor—as far as I’m concerned, this guy is just another idiot who doesn’t even deserve an ounce of respect.
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t give two fucks about it. You might like to pass all kinds of laws while you’re sitting on your fancy Governor’s chair, but I’m living in the real world. I don’t have the time for your political agenda bullshit of the week; I became Mayor in this city because I care about the people here, not because I want to be another fucking cog in the state’s machine.” I hear his words, but I can barely believe them. I fought tooth and nail to create a law that would protect our state for years to come, and this guy is pissing all over it with a grin … and that while trying to feed me some fake altruistic bullshit. Who the hell does he think he is?
“That’s not how it works. You can’t just do what you want; you’re a Mayor. Kindergarten is over, Liam. Listen to me and act like a real man for once.” This is like talking to a kid who has decided to play a game intended for grown-ups. How in the hell did this guy end up a mayor?
“That’s fucking rich of you, to come here and tell me I can’t secure thousands of jobs for New Kingston. Why don’t you go visit all the people who need these jobs and tell them that they should sign up for food stamps because you’ve signed some bullshit piece of paper. I bet that would go really well, Governor.”
I knew this guy would be tough to deal with, but I didn’t expect this. He’s not tough; he’s an asshole, one who doesn’t care about anything. He doesn’t even want to negotiate or talk about what can be done. This damn bastard just wants to prove he’s better than everyone else. If it weren’t for the political consequences of it, I could just bury my fist into his face and ruin that pretty face of his. You pick up a few things while serving in Iraq, and ruining pretty boys’ faces is one of them.
“I don’t know who you think are, Liam, but this isn’t the Wild West. You can’t simply flood the city with factories and postpone the consequences. And there are consequences.”
“Oh, I know all about consequences, Carter,” he tells me, using my first name as a provocation. Unconsciously, I feel my hands balling into fists. I’ve always hated spoiled little kids like him. He takes his feet off of the table and leans toward me, his grin fading away as his expression turns into a hard one. “For instance, the consequences to your words are that you’re no longer welcome here.”
I’m not welcome? In my own state? This guy has no idea who he’s talking to. Whether he likes it or not, he will have to bend. In the end, everyone does. I get up from my seat and look him in the eye, the tension in the room increasing.
“Enjoy your little fantasy while it lasts, Liam. Because, in the end, you have no power. No choice.” Leaving my words hanging in the air, I turn on my heels and leave his office.
Five minutes. That was how long it took for us to declare war to each other. I smile inwardly; if he wants war, he’s going to get one.
And I’m going to crush him… With a smile on my lips.
68
Vivian
I swear, I don’t even need an alarm clock to wake up most mornings. Most of my friends swear that they need a couple of minutes to snooze, or a solid 8 hours of sleep. Not me. A good five hours and I’m good to go. Hell, I could probably do with three. Or less.
