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Mayor Craig nods quietly. He tilts his head to the side slightly, openly studying me. “You caused quite a ruckus out there,” he says quietly.
I guess he’s referring to the fact that I made a bloody mess out of his guard for stopping me at the door. I glance down at my bloody knuckles and look at the Mayor with a smirk. “I figured I’d have to make some effort if I was going to gain an audience with the Mayor of New Orleans.”
The Mayor snickers quietly. He walks over to the sitting area and takes the couch directly opposite mine. “You got your wish, young man,” Mayor Craig says with a sigh. “Now that you have my attention, make it worth my while.”
I let my mouth stretch into a smirk as I hold the Mayor’s challenging gaze with a rivaling intensity. I can sense his mounting apprehension as he tries to guess my intentions. I can see through his face's mask of bland indifference.
“I plan to do just that, Mr. Mayor,” I say, sitting up slowly in my seat. “I believe we will both benefit greatly from this meeting.”
“Why are you here?” Mayor Craig asks, finally cutting to the chase. There’s none of that benevolent Mayor act that he puts up for the general public anymore. “What do you want?”
“Now, I have the right question,” I reply with an amused smile. “I want you to give me the location of Anderson Grey’s base of operation.”
His expression doesn’t falter, but I can sense the alteration in his emotions.
“What are you talking about?” Mayor Craig asks after a few seconds of silence.
I raise my brows at him. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Mr. Mayor. You can’t deal with a man like Anderson Grey for as long as you have without having something against him.”
“Young man, if you think you can come into my home and….”
“Pocus,” I interrupt and chuckle quietly at the instant confusion that clouds his blue eyes. “My name is Pocus. And whether I’ll expose your part in Xander Farrell’s death and the misappropriation of funds in your administration this very minute depends on that simple question that I asked a few seconds ago.”
Mayor Craig leans back in his seat with a small sigh. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You can keep claiming ignorance, but how long do you think you can keep up the act?” I ask with a small scoff. “Anderson did mention more than a few implicating things in his journal.”
The Mayor’s brow deepens in an alarmed frown. “A journal?” he repeats carefully.
“Yes, that’s right,” I reply with a nod. “Anderson kept a very detailed journal that just happens to be in my possession. It mentioned your deal with the drug baron, James Rusakov, who’s been on the FBI’s wanted list for a long time. You gave him distribution rights in NOLA in exchange for your next campaign funding. You promised Anderson the distribution rights but stabbed him in the back. Isn’t that why Anderson tried to have you assassinated in your hospital room? What did you offer him to make him back down?” I tilt my head as if to think about the question while the Mayor watches on intently. “Oh, I know! You didn’t have to offer anything to appease his anger. Why do that when you could just dangle his weakness in his face, right? I could go through the stress of setting the authorities on your tail. It wouldn’t take long to dig up all of your filth if someone set them on the right path. Of course, you can take all the blame and go down in history as NOLA's most corrupt mayor. Or we could settle this between ourselves like gentlemen.”
He seemed to think about that for a while. “What’s the catch?” he asks finally. He seems like a man caught up in a trap himself.
I’ve got to give the man some points for guts. It’s funny to see that he thinks he’s got some kind of leverage, but I don’t plan to tell him otherwise.
I smile slowly and lean forward in my seat, keeping my eyes steady on his. “You give me what I want, and you don’t have to worry about the cops pulling up at your doorstep, Mr. Mayor.”
“How can I trust you not to betray me?” Mayor Craig asks skeptically.
“I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug.
Mayor Craig closes his eyes and lets out a weary sigh. He suddenly looks older than his age. He stands up and walks to his desk, his shoulders slumped in defeat. I can almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he scribbles on a sticky note.
He walks back to where I’m sitting and hands the note over to me. “Here, you have it.”
I take the piece of paper from him, imitating his big camera grin. “Thanks, Mayor. You’ve just shown the good people of NOLA your utmost sincerity.”
* * *
Abigail
It feels good to be able to sit at the swings again, watching the huge orange globe disappear into the clouds, slowly but surely. I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of the setting sun and the feel of the cool evening breeze on my skin. I wish I could stay forever in this moment, hanging on to this deceptive calm that contradicts the turmoil in my soul. But life has never succumbed to things like hopes, wishes, and aspirations. Life seems to take its joy in smashing all of that and tossing it right back in the face of the bearer. That’s life. Hard. Unbending.
I suppose it’s unfair to say that my life has been entirely worthless. I mean…here I am. The members of the MC are wonderful people. They don’t make me feel like I have to try too hard to prove myself. They genuinely treat me like one of them, and I just have to see myself through their eyes. And then there’s Pocus…a beautiful man who’s fighting to hold on and helping me to see reasons not to give up on life. He’s ready to embrace my scars and even soothe them. But I don’t know if I can really find meaning in all of this. I’m not sure if I have the strength to hang on.
A new life? Love?
To what end?
