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Hugh said, “Foley.” This time sharper than perspex corners.
The slow loris went on with her blinking, tree hugging, poison secreting ways. “It’s a technique we used at my old council—”
“Which no long—”
“Foley.” The warning in Hugh’s tone went up a notch.
“It’s called astroturfing. It’s where—”
“You ethically compromise council and everything our Homeless Charter stands for.”
The slow loris blinked her big brown eyes. “Hugh, it’s very clear Foley is upset. Perhaps it would be better if she waited outside.”
“I’m not upset.”
Hugh frowned at her. “You’re not?”
Foley gripped the perspex. “I’m fucking furious. This council is behind Neighbours for Resident Safety. This council set up the petition. Roger is going to have to meet with an action committee his own council got going.”
“Gab, tell me that’s not what you’re saying,” said Hugh.
“Of course I’m not saying that. The committee is legitimate, entirely independent. I may have suggested to—”
“May have?” Foley shouted. Hugh gave her a narrow-eyed, chin jutting, not helping look.
The slow loris changed branches, revised her position. “I suggested to the dog walk club and the paint in the park group they might want to start a petition, just in case.”
Foley weighted the perspex in one hand. “In case of what?”
Gabriella smiled, fangs bared. “In case you failed, and in preference to Geraldo going public about council’s incompetence.”
You could beat a slow loris to a slow death with a hunk of perspex. “Hugh.” It wasn’t warning in her tone so much as intention.
Hugh’s hand went to his head. “Foley.” Another warning. “Gab, when you say you suggested this petition …”
“This is a legitimate tactic to—”
“To manipulate an agenda,” Foley said.
She had no idea what sound a slow loris made when it was riled up, but Gabriella made a tsk sound. “No, to solve difficult issues where council’s reputation and community standing is at risk. With the state government considering more amalgamations, this is not the time for something as simple as a homeless man to put an unfortunate spotlight on the mayor’s ability to manage community concerns.”
She was outrageous. No time spent disliking, being suspicious of Gabriella, had been wasted. “Hugh.”
Hugh put a stop sign hand in her face. “Foley. Gab, I don’t know how best to say this, but we don’t do things like that here. Roger might not be the most politically aware politician, but he’s honest and that’s why he keeps getting elected and this is, this is—”
“Evil.”
“Foley.” Hugh glared at her then flicked his eyes to Gabriella. “This is underhand and not worthy of us.”
The slow loris moved from Hugh’s side, looking for another branch to cling to. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Hugh sat so hard he made his chair bounce. “How do we stop it?”
“Why would we stop it?” The slow loris appeared to be genuinely confused.
“Because it’s underhanded and dishonest and unnecessary,” said Hugh and even if he never smirked at her ever again and wrote her a bad reference, Foley loved him with all her heart.
When Gabriella claimed credit for The Courier’s lead story, Foley had smelled something rotten and pounced and now that rotten was all up in Hugh’s nose and he was gagging, she felt vindicated.
