+1+
“Aren’t you cold?”
Seraphina shrugs and briefly considers the one-shouldered dark blue sheath dress that barley covers her thighs. The color suits her sun-kissed skin just fine, but it clashes with my usual all black apparel. Forever in mourning and all. Seraphina rolls her eyes and takes the cake box out the back seat.
“I miss SoHo”, she says. I lock the doors to her Tesla and slip the keys in my pocket before quickly doubling back and grabbing her long line suit jacket from the backseat… just in case.
“No you don’t”, I run to catch up to her and take in the mild New England air, and “We needed to get out of Manhattan—“
“You needed to get out of the Manhattan”, she says her stilettos clicking on the cracked black top, “Because you got arrested for totaling a gang leader’s car, and because you lost your job with New Crest City and because you were banned from serving in public office in New Jersey. You barley had that job a week.”
“Helios is not in a real gang, it’s a motorcycle club” I remind her, “…minus the motorcycles.”
“I guess the hit he put out on you if you step foot in New York also isn’t real?”
“That’s just a rumor”, I remind her while adjusting my collar…though to be safe I’d hidden out in New Jersey for a few weeks before we moved to Harrison County.
“I got you this job”, Sera says when I open the front door for her, “Try not to fuck this up, Paris.”
“Yes, Darling.”
+++
The flickering florescent lights in the hallway are extremely harsh, Seraphina and I share passing glances at the scribble of artwork and brightly colored decorations on the elementary school’s chipped walls. We follow the murmur of voices to the cafeteria doors. I wave through the window. I can see Principal Vance is finishing up a speech that has the crowed laughing. Principal Vance notices me and gives me a thumbs up.
I hold the door open for Seraphina and direct her to a chair in the back while strongly encouraging her to put her jacket on. Sera stops to lay the cake box down on the refreshment table and flips me off while shrugging into the jacket.
I almost miss my cue and make my way to the front as Principal Vance finishes the bio I’d written for myself. I look around the room and take in the constituents of the newly formed 5th District of Harrison County. Looking around the room I get a feel for the people of Harrison County—the college educated, the working class, young people and a few other people I couldn’t yet categorize into voting categories at first glance.
“Hello, everyone”, I begin, “My name is Paris Prince and I am honored to join Harrison County as your Jr. District Supervisor for the fifth district.”
I pause for applause but everyone must be too preoccupied with my introduction to clap. In the back Sera takes a seat between the Hartford City Manager Carver Landow and his wife Sunny. Sera gives them both a quick hug and she runs a finger up Carver’s forearm. Carver gives me an encouraging thumbs up and I turn back to the crowd.
“So”, I say already chastising myself for saying the word ‘so’, “As a licensed CPA and lawyer with a rigorous academic background in taxation I am very excited to begin working on local tax reform and budget structure reform. Ever since I was a teenager I knew politics was my destiny because nothing appealed to me more than good. Solid. Policy. Now to understand my approach to how public policy impact community growth I’m going to refer to my unpublished graduate thesis on the benefits of tax delineation through the means of-“
“What are you going to do to make sure our schools are safe?”
The interruption comes out of nowhere. I draw my eyes to a teenage girl in the front row who is standing up from where she was sitting with her family. She has a slight southern drawl that seems out of place in Connecticut. I expect her parents to reign her in; the mom almost does but stops herself.
“Uh”, I say, “Well, I’m sure. But if we get the taxes right we can find extra money for… security cameras or—“
“How is that going to stop another shooter from—“
The teen hesitates. I see a familiar resilience in her but she can’t get the words out. Her mom gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder as she takes a seat. I feel a thick silence in the room. Suddenly I notice an expectant look in the eyes of everyone in the room. Carver is whispering something to Sera –but Sera’s cold as ice expression is of course unreadable.
“I—so…“, fuck. Now I’m drawing words out. Not professional. I needed words. Talk Paris--
“Two masked gunmen entered the high school in the fall.” the girl’s mother explains-- filling the silence, “There were injures. Thankfully no one was killed.”
“No one innocent”, a voice in the back says and a murmur goes through the crowd.
“I’m sorry”, I say automatically. I don’t even plan what I say next. I just talk, “…I know what it’s like to be a kid and one day everything just change. There was a horrible act of violence where I’m from…that left many of us orphans. When you’re young it’s harder to understand why bad things happen and um—“
“Spencer”, her mom says. I take a look at the teen. Yes, I recognized the fire in her eyes.
“Spencer. I really appreciate your bravery speaking tonight. You’ve asked a lot of me and I will do whatever I can to make you feel safe at school again and to make sure guns owners and dealers are held responsible next time a heinous act like this happens in my county…er district...”
I barley felt the thrill that I usually did when the gentle roar of applause begins. I had an entire prepared speech but I broke the meeting there. Landow hustles over to me all ruddy faced and out of breathe before anyone can approach.
“Mr. Prince…I’m real sorry”, Landow says pulling at the collar of his button-up, “I thought you knew about the gunman. It was all over the news.”
“I’m sure it was---I just—there are so many it’s hard to---“
“Let me introduce you around.” Landow says taking me to a receiving line of constituents. He makes quick introductions. Even though Landow is the Hartford City manager he still has strong ties in Harrison County and did most of the party work.
Between introductions I look around for the teenager but I’ve lost her in the crowd. I can already tell this job was not at all what Landow and the party had promised. This job was supposed to be a stepping stone. A resume builder. An easy intro to New England politics. No one said anything about gun violence. I motion for Seraphina to join me for introductions. She takes her sweet time coming over—I slightly adjust the gold lady of liberty with an eagle broach on her jacket ---eat your heart out Nancy Pelosi.
I put my networking face on. Sera won’t let me have coffee so I rely on a decaf Diet Coke to keep me energized. Sera stands uselessly next to me eating a slice of cake.
She’s a little over 6’3 and towers over my 5’5 ¼. That’s not counting the five-inch stilettos. Her long dark bronze hair spills over her shoulders in big loose curls, she’s wearing just enough make-up to highlight her feminine features and high cheekbones.
“This cake is delicious”, Ms. Kate the head of the Harrison County PTA says making the mistake of trying to initiate small talk with Sera, “Is this from ShopRite?”
“Zabar’s”, Sera answers. Then struggles to fill the impending silence.
“You went all the way to the city just for this?” Ms. Kate asks brightly during the awkward pause.
I was in the city wrapping things up with a client and gave the keys to the tenants living in my condo”, Sera explains.
“We moved here from New York City.” I cut in trying to help, “We just bought a house in the county. In the Mount Laurel subdivision.”
“That’s wonderful! Those lots went so fast” Ms. Kate says, “We don’t get many Manhattanites here. So what do you do Mrs. Prince?”
“I—“
“She’s a small business owner”, I interrupt.
“E-commerce now mostly”, Sera says to appease me.
“That’s nice”, the Ms. Kate says.
Sera agrees nonplussed. She tries to smile but doesn’t quite manage it.
The somewhat mundane greetings continue and someone is about to ask me about the pride pin under my American flag pin when out of the corner of my eye I see a tall older man with warm brown skin and a well-fitting light green Polo shirt storming over.
“Excuse me”, the man’s voice is slightly raised.
“Sir—“, I reach my hand out to introduce myself.
“Do you really think that’s appropriate?” the man asks.
Something in the man’s voice tells me he is used to having some kind of authority. His is looking right through me and I follow his furious gaze to Sera’s jacket, or more to the point what is underneath her jacket.
“I think it’s legal”, Sera says adjusting her jacket to cover her holstered handgun
The exchange was starting to draw a bit of a crowd, I involuntarily smile and considered how to deescalate the situation. The man shakes his head but doesn’t back down.
“You really think it’s okay to bring a gun into an elementary school?”
Sera folds her arm and adjusts her stance, “I bought a gun to a meeting. I have a license and Connecticut is an open carry state… not that I have to explain my second amendment rights to anyone.”
Sera has a few inches over him but he adjust his stance to match hers, never breaking eye contact. The man gestures to the crowd
“There are children here. Children who have already been traumatized and don’t need to be re-traumatized because some NRA member with an agenda wants to prove a point.”
Instead of jumping into her curse-laden “fuck the NRA” speech she thankfully bypasses that comment
“Well”, Sera continues, “Maybe kids wouldn’t be traumatized if people would stop acting like guns are big scary mythical objects. They can be carried and used safely and effectively-- now more than ever. “
The man does not back down. I’m just glad he doesn’t get in her face. That could be trouble.
“You can know everything you want about a gun, but when it’s turned on you the outcome is the same... Seriously? Why? Why would you need a gun in an elementary school?” The man asks again.
“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” Sera says, “It’s called the second amendment. Cars kill people and we don’t hide them from people who’ve been in car accidents. So do knives, planes… hammers.”
The man shakes his head. He knows a fight he isn’t going to win but he does have the last word.
“Well, I hope you have a Connecticut license. Those are public records you know. Is this really your wife?” The man turns swiftly towards me.
“I’m so sorry”, I say quickly, “Um… do you live in my district?”
“No”, the man admits. I let out a sigh of relief. Although the single word sounded weighty, “My name is Emile. I’m technically in District 4. I’m also the volunteer chair of Harrison County’s community activism and education board so I saw your bio Mr. Prince. You seem smart enough to realize your puppet 5th district was created last year to suppress votes for the next local elections.”
“….well I…I…”
To be honest, the 5th district was more of a pet project between the local officials and the state government than an actual district. It had been established in 2016 when a boom in commercial real estate development and changing demographics had inspired the party to get creative and split Harrison County for votes. As a result of the oddly drawn lines the new district was 80% commercial and had maybe 40 actual residents which made it easy for Landow to campaign for me as a write-in candidate, after the previous District Supervisor was found dead at his desk. He was 89-years old.
They needed someone moderately qualified to fill the seat until the next election. My trajectory made me a good fit. I’d been volunteering and interning with campaigns since my undergrad days at Harvard. Though I knew I’d mostly been chosen because of the federal audit happening this year. Being a licensed CPA with two master’s degrees and a licensed lawyer meant I could speak the auditor’s language.
“…Well I—“, I tried to defend myself again.
“Mr. Prince”, Emile says and he no longer sounds defensive but exhausted, “The truth is a lot of us are here today because we are getting fed up with how things are run in this county. We thankfully just got in a new sheriff but there is a lot that is still not being heard. For years it’s been all about pleasing the real estate developers. Landow said you might be different. That you had a progressive small-town mentality… But I wonder if you might be just like the others.”
Sera clears her throat and heads out of the cafeteria, she won’t make it far with her car keys in my pocket. I turn to Emile and hold out my hand.
“Emile. I promise I’m the right man for the job. I’m sorry about Sera. My wife is. She just—this move is really hard on her…she’s just very. Please accept my apologies.”
“I’ll accept your apologies when you prove you aren’t some party shill. That you are here for the right reasons. Notice your esteemed colleagues aren’t here tonight to greet you, Mr. Prince. Take heed.”
“Sir”, I say respectfully.
Emile just gives me a once over and leaves without so much a glance at my outstretched hand. He hadn’t even looked me in the eye, around me I notice the other constituents are doing the same.
+2+
I poke at the dark bags under my eyes and smear on more overpriced eye cream. I always looked tired despite the detailed facial regime Sera had given me. There wasn’t a single pore or imperfection on my face, except for the atrocious smile scars and the pronounced circles under my eyes. I push my hair back. Did I look to young clean shaven? I doubt Sera would let me grow a beard. If I could grow a beard. I stare into the bathroom mirror and practice a placid, comforting, smile –committing it to memory. I study the lines of my face a little more before dimming the bright beauty lights around the bathroom mirror.
I pick up my iPad from the black marble bathroom counter and turn down the American Public Radio rerun I have playing. I stumble over moving boxes in the bedroom and crawl into the brand new oversized California King four poster bed that would have never fit in the bedroom in the SoHo. It had reinforced steel rails painted matte black with discreet metal accents along the top. The bed still has a new furniture smell that overpowers the Verbena and Sage pillow mist I’d sprayed on the sheets. Sera has her MacBook propped up on a satin black pillow in her lap.
“Read this”, I set my tablet on her keyboard. She picks it up scrolling through the news story from last year about the school shooting
“That girl from the meeting”, I say reaching over to scroll to a candid photo from the incident, “She was a hostage. The shooter just burst into her classroom and pointed a gun in her face while she was just trying to go to school.”
Sera sighs.
“I’m not getting rid of my guns.” She says scrolling through the article and heated comments, “I’m sorry this happened but I had nothing to do with this and I’m not letting close-minded New Englanders force me into it. I have a right to protect myself.”
She turns back to her laptop and I know that should be the end of the conversation but this was about my job.
“But Darling…this could be it. This could be our community, our people. Don’t you want that Sera? These are good people and I think we got off on the wrong foot”, She hands me her laptop and I put it away, only vaguely glancing at thousands of dollars she was spending on Agent Provocateur lingerie, which seemed like a really unnecessary business expense. Sven probably had something to do with it.
“You really want to make this work, don’t you?” she says giving me her full attention.
“I do. I’ve got to build my political profile before I can even begin to think about running in a national election. New England is the perfect place to start. I just feel like maybe we didn’t make a good impression tonight.”
Sera studies my face and holds out her hand, “Come here.”
She turn off the lights and I find her in the dark. I rest my cheek against her chest listening to the thrumming of her heart. She runs her hands through my hair, the acrylic points tickling my neck and massaging my scalp. I was getting worked up.
Mine
“Sera. This is where my political career begins. I can feel it. This is where we can begin. Where we can place some roots. This is going to be our new home. It has to be”
+3+
The first battle I fought in my new positon as the 5th District Jr. Supervisor was with a fucking Allen wrench. The board had been generous enough to provide me with a new desk considering my predecessor had a heart attack and died on the previous one. When facilities wheeled the box in I was handed a tool-kit and very politely informed that the union rules didn’t allow for third-party furniture assembly.
I texted Sera because she’d been asleep when I’d brought her breakfast up this morning. Since she was asleep I’d snuck out a little early and gone to Starbucks for an extra hit of caffeine, then took a 30 minute walk in the parking lot to work off my nerves.
Everyone had been friendly when I entered Old Town Hall for my first day. The 6-story brick building housed the supervisors’ offices. It was way more intimate than the state-of-the-art Municipal Complex on the parkway where the other county offices were. The Municipal Complex also housed the recreation center the community theater and had a theater-style meeting room. It was also across the street from a double decker town center with restaurants and outdoor spaces.
Old Town Hall also had its perks. It was on the historical registry and it had charm. It housed a tiny outdated visitor center/ rest area for people traveling down rural State Road 8. Ye Old Café, a small business in town, had a small café on the first floor with irregular hours and offerings. Sure, you had to park on rural State Road 8 and walk to the front doors because there was no parking lot… but that was part of the charm. So was the lack of central air or elevators.
The elderly security guard had been thoroughly entertained this morning when I kept setting off the metal detectors. After surrendering my belt, keys, wallet and my leather messenger bag I good humoredly lifted my shirt to exposing my acrylic navel ring.
“Dumb college decision”, I’d said laughing it off with them while self-consciously pulling my jacket tight incase my metal nipple piercings, which were actually setting off the alarm, were showing.
Five hours later all I’d managed to do on my first day is put a drawer together. Fuck it. I drop the drawer in the corner with the rest of the desk pieces and make myself comfortable at the rickety folding table that served as my temporary desk
I had to get to work. The state audit was this year and they wanted to make sure everything went perfectly from start to finish. I had to prove I could handle myself to the other supervisors. That I wasn’t just some shill.
The strange thing was every time I sat down to work on developing audit trails my thoughts went back to the teenage girl from the meeting. I just hadn’t gotten into politics for social issues. I wanted to create effective policy. Nothing about social issues was effective or easy. I’d learned that volunteering in the DA’s office and my short-lived internship with an immigration lawyer.
And sure I had expected to learn more about water metering, pot holes, unions and zoning …but a school shooting? What could I do about that? Maybe I could…
I look around at my empty office. I needed to talk it out. At most local offices I’d volunteered for there was usually always a buzz in the air. Always some staffers or aides to brainstorm with. Harrison County seemed to run with more of a skeleton crew. My staff consisted of an admin shared between all five supervisors and a currently vacant county high school intern position.
My mind drifted back to what Emile had said when he wasn’t yelling at my wife. Something about people being fed up with how the county was run? I guess it was kind of odd a respected and mostly upper middle-class suburb ran on such tight staffing budget.
I stick my head outside of my office to find the admin Ms. Ginger. She was a cheerful but somewhat…oblivious woman who had been employed here for 60 years. She’d shown me my office this morning and I hadn’t seen her since
I step out into the shared office space to investigate. I jump when I hear an uproar of laughter from Chairman Day’s corner office.
This morning Chairman Day and the other supervisors’ assured me they didn’t need me in meetings just yet and I should settle in. But I was ready to jump in. I knock on Day’s office door and the laughter cuts off. Day opens the door and pokes his head through. His thick medium blonde hair slightly jostled.
“Oh, I thought you were Ms. Ginger”, he says as a greeting,” I told you, we don’t need you in meetings today, Paris. Go ahead and get yourself settled.”
“I can get settled later. I’m ready to dive in, sir.”
“Cool”, Day says casually, “We are going to finish up in here then go out to lunch.”
“Sure, thing Chairman Day.”
“Just call me Cortland.”
“Yes, sir.”
Day was about ten years older than me and the closest on the board to my age. I was impressed with the resumes of all my peers , but I saw a potential mentor material in Cortland Day. He was a fellow Ivy and had fifteen years of public service experience. He was strikingly handsome with blonde hair and deep brown eyes-- he looked like a TV version of a politician and I couldn’t find a bad word about him online. He was a legacy in the community and made history as the youngest elected Chairman.
“Oh and Paris.” Days says.
“Sir”, I say too quickly. To eager.
Before heading back inside his office Day picks up one of about two dozen banker’s boxes off the floor and drops it into my hands. My knees buckle at the weight but I use what little core I have to not fall down.
“Here, Paris”, Days says, “Why not start with getting us ready for that federal tax audit. Here is the tax budget and tax schedules that need to be reviewed. The feds are coming in next month. They want 25 years so you can start with the 90s and work your way up. Maybe you can present your findings at the next board meeting?”
“Yes, sir. Will do. Ummm, look…hey do you think we could meet and —“
“I got to get back to this”, He says pointing to his office
“I understand, sir but I was thinking we could schedule a meeting to talk about the high school in my distric—“
He’s already half-way in his office.
“Schedule something with Ms. Ginger. Have her put it on my calendar.” He says over his shoulder as he closes the door to his office.
I immediately drop the heavy box and drag it into my office. After about an hour I’d fallen into a pattern of reviewing the tax schedules and making sure the money placed in the tax budget was correctly allocated. I had dig to make sure the right numbers and deductions were made per each year’s laws. I was still deep in my law school work ethic and could zero in on the tedious task.
While one side of my brain was working numbers the other was thinking about the high school. The way Emile and all the others in that cafeteria had looked at me…made me feel like fraud. I text Sera my thoughts but she doesn’t respond which made me a little anxious.
I tried talking to myself but that only went but so far.
I shut my office door and pull my personal Chromebook out of my leather messenger bag and open the browser. I click on the CraveLive.com/user/MissAthena link in my Favorites and watch as the screen fills with an HD video of Seraphina making up her oversized wrought iron canopy bed; with its black sport sheets, black silky tufted comforter, silver duvet, bountiful throw pillows; and a neatly organized assortment of ropes, leather crops, flogs and paddles handing from hooks along the top rail frame.
Sera continues making her bed. When she leans to toss a pillow on or tuck in the corners the hem of her pleated black babydoll rises to reveal an intricate lace thong, I nervously avert my eyes. After carefully placing each throw pillow she stretches and slips her thong down her long legs encased in thigh highs and a garter belt, then tosses them into a decorative basket. She sits at her vanity closest to the camera and admires her early-morning reflection as if she isn’t already wearing a shit ton of foundation and concealer already.
I click on the chat icon on the screen. A pop-up flashes on my screen.
“19.99 to join chat”
I scroll through the quickly moving chat feed.
GOOD MORNING
LUV starting my mornings with U, Miss!!!
BRUSH HAIR. IT PRETTY
Cute pedicure!
So lucky, so beautiful Miss. Athena
Hello (:
Maybe dark red lipstick today, sweetie
Good Morning gorgeous. Can you smile for me?
Luv u!
Still at the vanity she almost imperceptivity looks at the chat log on a computer screen visible off camera. A seductive smile crossing her face before applying burgundy lipstick and brushing her hair long hair
I pick up my office phone and call the landline at the house. I get nothing. I can’t even hear it ringing in the background. I try sending Sera another text hoping her cell phone isn’t upstairs. On the livestream she preoccupies herself by dexterously putting a fake coat of top coat on her pedicure--
“Mr. Prince”, Mrs. Ginger scoots into my office--metal walker first, “I’m heading off to lunch”
My Chromebook is turned away from her so I just lower the screen a little.
“You know Ms. Ginger”, I say feeling a bit optimistic, “Stick around. I’d like to take everyone out for lunch. I have a lot of ideas I’d like to--”
“Oh, the boys have already left.”
“The boy—“
I look over Ms. Ginger’s shoulders and see the door to Day’s office is open. I charge over to my office door and see the entire office is empty.
Oh.
We are going take lunch
Well… they really wanted me to get settled. That’s fine then.
“I suppose you and I can still head out.” I suggest.
“You look like you have a lot of work to do.”, she looks at the desk still disassembled in the corner and the tax audit files, and “The feds are coming next month.”
“Right. Raincheck.”
We awkwardly smile at each other for a few seconds before she leaves. Once she is gone I reach for my wallet and pull out my pre-paid VISA card. I type my payment information into CraveLive.com. When I refresh the screen the chat box is open to me
Sera has moved out of frame and returned with a recently ‘delivered’ package. She’d tasked me with packaging the high-powered vibrator and finding a realistic UPS packing label last night. It took me three hour to make one she was satisfied with.
She’d remembered to click the button that produced a pop-up reminding subscribers they could pay to send her personal gifts and get a personal thank you note in return. Notes Sera trusted me to write without her having to approve them.
So nice whoever sent Miss a gift!
I’d love to send you a fun gift, sweetie’
ANSWER YOUR PHONE. IT WOULD BE SO HOT IF YOU PICKED UP YOUR PHONE.
I press enter and see the tiny millisecond the message catches her off guard. It’s almost imperceptible.
So rude, turn your caps lock off
Don’t yell!
Sera puts the tip of her thumb in her mouth and leans forward, her other hand on the computer just out of sight of the camera. My web browser goes black.
USER HAS BEEN BLOCKED
+++
When I finally make it down to the Ye Old Café for lunch I settle for a lukewarm pre-wrapped turkey sandwich. I take the time to get to know Judith and Logan the two person café staff and inquire about vegetarian options to which I just got a blank stare.
I can’t help but notice the other county supervisors sitting at a table in a tiny roped off section eating a catered meal. I just take my lunch to my office and read the local paper. Even after throwing away the turkey I can’t bring myself to eat the rest of the sandwich.
I set the paper down when I get a FaceTime from Sera.
I answer and prop my phone up on the kickstand case. Sera is sitting in the middle of the living room surrounded by moving boxes with a pizza. She had no make-up on and a black jogging set with a cropped sweatshirt I haven’t seen before.
“God, Sera.” I say starting right in.
“What’s wrong now Paris.” she asks.
“Don’t tease me but… Sera this is just like high school.”
She rolls her eyes so I continue.
“Cortland Day, the chairman, I feel like he’s icing me out. I mean maybe he doesn’t know I went to Harvard.”
“He knows you went to Harvard.” she says considering the overcooked oblong pizza in front of her.
“How?”
“Because you never stop talking about it.”
Point.
I reconsider the sandwich on my desk and watch as Sera almost burn her fingers on the wood-fired pizza.
“Why were you calling me, Paris? That little stunt you pulled wasn’t that cute. Don’t even think of refunding yourself.”
I can’t tell if she’s actually displeased. Maybe I was trying to rile her by being a bit…obnoxious on purpose. Sera could always clock that kind of bullshit. Now I only had 2.49 cents in my account for the month.
“I just needed someone to talk to. The silence is driving me crazy. I have all these ideas rolling in my head and I can’t stop thinking about it. Can I run something by you?”
“This is about your career, Paris”, she says her bright blue eyes practically piercing me through the camera, “So…you don’t have to ask me. You can just tell me.”
“Right. I was thinking about what happened at the district meeting last night and I was thinking of maybe doing like a gun amnesty day for the county”
She tilts her head skeptically and I continue.
“I was looking it up. You know…get guns out of homes, maybe have some information session, invite guns safety experts. Go over active shooter drills. Maybe have an open forum to talk about how everyone is doing. I think it’d be a great kickoff to reform how we do active shooter training. It’s be good for me and the community. I’m thinking about running it by Day.
“You seem passionate about it.”, she remarks but she’s slightly skeptical because Sera knows me.
“I know social issues have never been my thing and I know this isn’t really needed in a privileged community…but it might help.”
She begins to say something else but I look up and see Chairman Day at my door. He looks relaxed with his jacket over his shoulder.
“Are you watching Netflix on the job?” He asks with a chuckle even though he can’t see the screen.
“Oh, not it’s my wife. I’ll just—“, I reach for my phone and Sera waves to me before hanging up.
“I didn’t know you were married. I actually tell Sky that this old building has no reception so she won’t call me at work. Some stuff you just don’t want to hear until you get home. ”
I wasn’t sure I understood his advice but this was my chance to run my idea by him. I stand up from the folding table and tried to approach him like a peer
“Look…Cortland. I was thinking as part of my first initiative we could have a school violence awareness day. Get the community together and talking about gun violence. I think it might help everyone heal-- “
“I mean if it doesn’t cost anything you can run it by the communications office”, Cortland says stopping me short of babbling for ten minutes.
“I don’t know if it will be free—“
“Budget is pretty tight this year, Paris”, he sounds absolute on that.
“Maybe I can get a sponsor. Plus”, I grab the 2017 budget I’d printed off the intranet, “I think we have some extra money in the budget—“
“Paris, you are only authorized to look at the tax budget” Cortland approaches my desk—er folding table.
“I’m sorry. It was on the county intranet. It’s just--when I had the idea I wanted to see if there were any funds I could—“
Day takes the budget off my desk and tucks it under his arm
“Look Paris your first 90 days in office need to be focused on the federal tax audit. You gotta make us look good. That’s why the party invested in getting you elected.”
“Right”, I said turning back the dust laden audit files. This was my first job in politics and I knew there was a game to play. I had a fuck ton to prove.
Cortland stood in my doorway on his phone for a while before turning back to his office, “By the way what the hell is happening with your desk.”
I consider the pile of wood in the corner
“I’m working on it.”
+++
In my head Seraphina is eating Connecticut Style pizza, which is wood-fired pizza. They’ve just moved from Manhattan so they are horrified by it. That’s just my brand of humor apparently. Regional foods.
Muse: Um…why is Emile in this?
Lils: IDK, he showed up for a cameo and then I sort of…wrote him into the outline and then into the plot. We have not seen the last of Emile he is the only character from another one of my serials to show up….sort of.
Muse: Who’s going to tell SHV you are writing Cortland Day into this and that in this story he is married to Sky, a side characters from UL who also has the same name as a character in the Vice-verse?
Lils: Shrugs. No seriously back when I said I stole two SHV characters and she would never guess who it was …it was Sky and Cortland. I know Cortland’s mom was from Florida but did we know where his dad was from? Any info you want to dump on me wold be great !
Muse: Also Lils, did you write AU All-Human Paris as a Republican? Lils: I wanted to make this serial a bit political and feel a bit more grounded with current events but in these times ya’ll ….it’s hard. I did take a very privileged approach to politics in this serial but it’s not a big part of the serial but he is not a republican. He’s more of a fiscally moderate democrat while Sera is a gun loving democratic libertarian for reasons we will get into.