Page 30 of Catfish

It's like having a burner phone, but it only lasts for an hour until it disappears.

Me: Enter the building when ready.

Unknown: Coming in now.

“I think we should hire her for your fundraisers.” Looking up, Em walks up to me with a glass of dark brown liquid. She hands it over then takes in the sight of the party. “Besides the God-awful pink.”

Absolutely fucking not.

“We already have a party planner.”

But thanks for the idea of working closely with her.

“She’s a bitch,” Em chides, sipping on her champagne. “And your mother hired her.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

One thing I liked about my assistant is that she isn’t intimidated by the famous Nora Lockwood. The second was that she calls me out on my bullshit.

No matter how annoying she is.

“And you want to get rid of her based on that fact?” I turn my face away so that she can’t see that I’m fucking with her.

“She wanted to have a real-life donkey come to your campaign event for governor. She’s out of her mind and needs to retire.”

“Viola has been in the family for years, Em.”

“And she needs to be put down.” I shoot my attention back to her just to bust out in laughter. Emmy’s eyes widen, probably because she hasn’t heard me laugh in over a year, and smiles. “Putting people down makes you laugh, huh, Lockwood?”

“I’m starting to rub off on you a little too much. Going to wipe off that squeaky clean persona you so proudly wear.”

“I think that went out the window when I started getting involved in your shady dealings with cocaine and prostitutes.”

I let out a soft sigh. “Yes. Unfortunately though, they weren’t for me.”

Emmy turns her small frame to face me. “And with that being said, since I do so much for you that darkens my bright aura, can I fire Viola?” She bats her eyelashes at me with a knowing smile, knowing that it won’t do anything to sway any decision my mind has already made.

However, the pestering thought of Reagan working for and under me, seems to be taking a nice little swell in my thought process.

“Run a background check on Miss Shelton,” I chime, giving me a reason to know more about her because, again, fixated like a fucking idiot. “We’ll talk more about it later.”

But the answer will still be “no”.

A ruckus promptly starts forming by the door of the hall, followed by loud gasps of shock as a deliberate smile slowly starts to form on my lips.

The swarm of people in the room begins to part like the Red Sea, letting the distraction I called for enter the room—Bunny.

Let me introduce you to Holden’s fuck buddy every Tuesday afternoon, just before he has his corned beef sandwich on rye for lunch.

Holden works like a clock, always on time, never anything surprising or different with his schedule. Always dependable to do the same fucking thing he always does.

What's interesting about Bunny, my newest weapon in Holden's public downfall, is that this isn't her first go-around. She's been around the political table with men of power, got paid for her services, and moved on to the next man with a thick checkbook. But like myself, Bunny hasn't been getting compensated, and I square away my loose ends.

So since my words and physical actions haven't swayed Holden to pay up, Bunny in front of hundreds of people and his wife should get my point across.

And possibly get him removed from office.

“Holden,” Bunny coos loud enough for most of the room to hear over the soft playing of violins and a piano. “I’ve come to give you your present.”

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