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“You see now what I mean?” Carter says to me, as if this should explain everything. “The man is a goddamn child. Not to mention he probably just cost the network $500,000 in broadcast fines for his cursing.”
I’m listening. I’m thinking maybe I should pay a visit to New Kingston myself, you know?
Maybe understand the situation a bit more.
Because I need to get to the bottom of this. I need to get the facts and help them make a reasonable compromise.
It’s going to be hard because right now I want to do only one thing in the world.
Fuck.
70
Liam
“On the house, Mayor,” the bartender tells me, pushing a giant mug of beer in my direction. I’ve already drunk a few glasses of whisky, but what the fuck, you don’t say no to your citizens. Specially when they’re slender brunettes with perfect breasts.
“Cheers,” I thank her, taking the mug to my lips and drinking a long gulp. The beer goes down my throat softly, settling in over the whisky pretty easily. I already have a fucking buzz going on, but I’m not too shitfaced—exactly the way I like it. “Oh, come on,” I yell at the TV, my voice joining a chorus of annoyed jeers. The fucking Jet’s QB just got sacked, and we’re already down by fourteen points. Sometimes I think I should have become a fucking football player and won the goddamn Super Bowl; I mean, I’d like to see the Jets win a fucking championship during my lifetime.
Everyone has their eyes glued to the TV, watching as the team struggles to reach the playoffs. This is why I love my city, New Kingston. I might be the fucking mayor and all that, but I can still hang out by the bar and be treated like a fucking regular human being. Yes, that’s right, I go to the same places the regular Joe goes to. Despite what all those gossip magazines tell you about me, I have my feet firmly planted on the ground; I’m not a snake in a suit, like the politicians New York presents us with. Sure, I’m fond of hard liquor and pretty women, but that doesn’t make me a fucking lunatic.
Take our governor, for instance, Carter Andrews. The guy had the fucking nerve to walk into my fucking office and tell me with a straight face that I couldn’t bring jobs to my own city. Fucking unbelievable. No wonder the country is in such a fucking disarray, if guys like Carter are the best we have.
“Another one,” I ask the smiling brunette behind the counter, pointing at my almost empty mug. I should have ordered a whisky; you don’t have to drink your own weight to get drunk, but I decide to stick with the beer. It’s still early, and I want to be sober enough in case I decide to thank the young bartender for the free drink… I don’t have to be any more explicit than this, do I?
Another wave of jeers and boos takes the bar by assault, the opposing team scoring a fucking touchdown. Well, so much for this year’s playoffs. Then, something amazing happens; the whole bar quiets down, everyone turning their attention away from the TV. That’s almost a fucking miracle, taking into account that the patrons here are die-hard Jets fans. I turn around on my stool, trying to see what the fuck is going on, and my eyes find the most beautiful woman in the whole fucking universe. I know that I’m prone to some exaggeration now and then, but I’m fucking serious right now.
She has just gotten inside, her eyes sweeping the room as she looks for someone. I wonder who the lucky bastard might be, my eyes and mind busy with taking in every single detail of her. Slender, blonde haired and beautiful, she almost looks too good to be real. I let my eyes wander over lively eyes and full red lips, but soon after that my gaze starts to go lower. She’s wearing a tight black dress, the fabric hugging her curves with such perfection that I feel my cock twitching inside my pants. Who the fuck is this woman?
Every single pair of eyeballs is on her, but she keeps looking around lazily, not giving a fuck. She radiates confidence, and that makes her even more fucking beautiful. Then, her eyes find mine; her lips curl upward into a heart-melting smile and she starts to walk across the room toward me. She was looking for me? Oh, God, I hope she isn’t a fucking reporter. She might be scorching hot, but I just want to drink in peace, for fuck’s sake.
I turn around and face the bar, placing my elbows on the counter as I take a gulp from my refilled beer and wait for the mysterious woman to reach me. She leans against the counter, sitting on the stool by my side, but I don’t even look at her. If she’s a fucking journalist, I’m shooting her down. I don’t care how fucking hot she is, I won’t let her bury her fangs in me.
“You’re hard to find, Mayor Liam Jeffries,” she says, her words caressing my eardrums and sending a shiver down my spine; my cock twitches some more. I look at her, my guard still up.
“Maybe that’s because I don’t want to be found,” I respond. “And who the hell are you?”
“Vivian Hawthorne,” she says, giving me her hand. I shake it gently, her small delicate fingers caressing the palm of my hand. “I’m a US senator.” Well, she isn’t a reporter, that’s good. But why the fuck is a US Senator looking for me in a bar this late? “I heard you already made friends with Governor Andrews.” Oh, that’s why. Did that fucking asshole send a senator after me?
“Oh, yeah. We’re best friends now,” I smirk, taking another long gulp out of my beer. “Did he send you?”
She snorts as if I had just told her a joke, and then casually leans against the counter and orders a 20-year-old Glenfiddich. Now that’s my kind of girl, one that knows her drinks.
“Who do you think I am, Mayor? I’m a Senator, not a girl who runs errands.”
“Well, it’d be a waste if you were just running errands,” I say with a grin, my eyes wandering over her body. I know I shouldn’t be this frontal, but hey, she’s the one who came looking for me after hours. “And you can call me Liam. I’m not a pompous ass like the Governor.”
“Very well, Liam… I came here because I wanted to hear your side of the story. Your deal has caught the Senate’s attention, and it seems that Carter is pretty adamant on blocking your deal. I’ve met with him already, and it doesn’t seem like he expects to lose.”
“Couldn’t you hear my side of the story during the day, in my office?” I ask her in a mocking tone, ignoring her comments about the deal. “Or did you want to see me this bad?”
“Oh, I see. You’re trying to impress me with your devil-may-care bad boy persona; don’t worry, I’ve heard all about it already. After all, not a day goes by without reports of your, ahem, escapades hitting the news.” She talks back. Impressive. Most women would just flush, happy to be talking to me and trying to figure out a way to get me into their bed. But not this one; whoever Vivian Hawthorne is, she’s a different woman than what I’m used to. I like that… I really like that.
“So, tell me, Liam… Why are you this hell bent on the deal you made? You might be committing political suicide if you clash with Carter.”
“Vivian… Do I look like I give a fuck about that? Political suicide… Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think that I’m the Mayor because I want a career in politics? If that’s what you think I care about, you’re dead wrong.”
“Then what do you care about? Besides drinking.”
