Stuart throws his pen down and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“Even one syllable of her name would be a start.” He sighs, exasperated. “What was I thinking? You probably don’t even know her name or there was more than one of them. I’ve taken on a press disaster waiting to happen,” he mutters under his breath.
“Icanhear you.” I grit my teeth as I lean forward over the desk.
“Good. You should. Then you’ll understand how I deserve a big fat bonus when we get you into office.” He stares out the window, deep in thought, then suddenly jumps forward in his seat. “Okay. We need to find you a girlfriend. Not your usual wannabe model or actress. Someone intelligent, with a ‘normal’ job. Oh, and maybe a dog, too. People love a guy in a committed relationship with a dog. I mean, a baby would be ideal as it makes you the most relatable to families, but we don’t have time for that. So a dog would work.”
“I’m not getting a dog just to parade it around for the campaign.”
Stuart looks at me with the weariness of someone trying to explain something incredibly simple to someone who is incredibly dumb.
“You can keep it after. I’m not cruel.”
Images of me walking a dog through Central Park, in the pouring rain, scooping up shit pop into my thoughts. No, thank you.
“No dog,” I grit out.
“Fine.” He sighs, sinking back into his seat again. “But I don’t hear any objection to the girlfriend. That’s a must. So… any ideas?”
“I’m not seeing anyone serious right now.” I shift in my seat, recalling the last time I ‘entertained’. It was the night before that charity gala at The Songbird. Nine months ago.
Nine fucking months.
I’m not sure how my balls haven’t turned blue and dropped off. Either that or my hand hasn’t been worn down to the bone with all the friction.
I don’t know what happened. I just know since that night I haven’t felt… well, I haven’t felt like hooking up with someone whose name evades me. It’s not like I forget their names. I just never bother to process them in the first place. Maybe I’m finally growing up, like my sister, Riley, keeps telling me I need to do because meaningless sex feels just that… meaningless.
“Not a problem.” Stuart picks up his cell and starts scrolling through it. “That can be fixed. I know a woman who runs an escort agency. She’s very discreet, it will—”
“No!”
The strength in my voice has Stuart dropping his phone onto the table. He takes a deep breath, folding his hands together on top of his folder.
“Well, Mr. Smart-ass. If you have a better idea, I’m all ears. It only has tolookreal for the public, that’s all. I don’t care if she’s the love of your life or a paid employee. It just has toseemauthentic. Someone the public will like. Someone you can make it seem believable with. You’ll need to do the public appearances together, look like it’s serious. We can move her into your apartment to make it realistic. What the hell you both do behind closed doors is up to you. I don’t need to know. I don’twantto fucking know, all right?” He takes one glance at my face, opening his palms wide before continuing. “Look, it’s just the way the game is played. You know your opponents will do the same things. Only worse.”
“Yeah, I know,” I grumble. I’m being backed into a corner. A fake, just for show one. But if it means our best shot at winning, then—
“It’s your fault, anyway,” Stuart declares before he presses his lips together and tips his head to the side.
“How’d you figure that?”
“Well, if you hadn’t spent the past few years fucking every woman that moves, then we wouldn’t have so much damage limitation to control.” He blows out a deep breath as his eyes land on my tense shoulders. “Look. We’ve all done it at some point, although it’ll not do well for your image if you keep it up. But… if you now have a serious live-in girlfriend… well, that I can work with. I can spin it into a modern-day fairy-tale romance. The emotionally suppressed brute who was looking for love in all the wrong places finally meets the woman of his dreams, who he falls head over heels in love with. The end, thank you very much for coming, there’s the exit, tips gratefully received.”
He looks at me as if expecting an applause, then mutters something to himself, rolling his eyes as he gathers up his notes.
“Get a good night’s sleep, Reed. And tomorrow, tell me who the new Mrs. Walker is going to be.”
He pats me on the shoulder as he passes. “Got it?”
“Okay,” I snap, cracking my knuckles as I stare out the window at the Manhattan skyline.
Once I’m alone, I huff out a frustrated groan. He’s right. I know he is. If I want to be the next Mayor of New York, I need to do this. It’ll help with the campaign. And then I can help the city. It sounds stupid and romanticized, but I didn’t get into politics for personal gain, or ego. I did it because I truly want to make a difference in people’s lives. To how they work. To how they can enjoy their spare time with their family. To how they educate their children. To their healthcare. To their safety.
To everything.
The idea that in order to have the best chance of getting there, I have to lie and deceive first, is just… well, it stinks. To be honest, it’s shit. But then that’s politics.
And the end justifies the means. One little white lie won’t hurt anyone. If it means I can make changes that will benefit the people who live here, then it’s worth it. No question about it.