Page 79 of Catfish

“Things aren’t done basic, Wade, they're done elegantly, strategically. She studies the crowd, their hobbies, restaurants they frequent.”

“And, what, serving them their favorite surf and turf is going to get their backing?”

“If these people see that you’re not some young idiot, maybe.”

I shake my head. The risk is too big. Em would know that if she knew that I knew Reagan. If she was aware that I’ve spoken to her secretly, pretending to be someone I’m not. Something I had to end because I didn’t have that sort of freedom to keep her around.

I’m a prisoner to my own dream, becoming president is all I think about. It was also turning more into a big “fuck you” to my dad.

“I’ve never disappointed you before,” Em proceeds. “She—”

“I’m not worried about you, it’s her. I don’t know her.”

“I did your background check.”

“It’s all black and white, I need the color of someone’s life.”

"Then let her work for you, and if she starts to pan out in a way that you're unsatisfied with, I'll find someone else."

My forehead creases. “In the middle of my campaign? The most important event of—”

“You haven’t won the Democratic vote yet. Let her run the fundraiser, I’ll be by her side, we’ll get it done. Trust me.”

“She has an attitude problem,” I allude.

“I’ll be the one working with her,” Em counters.

True.

“Em, I’m not dealing with—”

“With what? You said you didn’t want to be involved with the small stuff like food and decorations. Let us girls make everything pretty. All I need you to do is work on your charming personality and win people over.”

I want to rub my forehead because she's giving me a headache, but that would clue her in that something is wrong.

That I’m fighting an inner battle within myself to give Em the green light.

“She’s still here.”

Fuck.

“Why?”

Em straightens her spine and shrugs. “I want to hire her today.”

“You’re bugging me, Em,” I warn, tightening my grip around my folder.

“She’s the best.”

“You said that already.”

Another half-ass shrug from Em. "Because she is."

“The last party I saw her do was breached by—”

“A whore you had come to Montgomery’s party.” She folds her arms, not backing down, trying to break me down. “You kinda owe her.”

My brows furrow. “I don’t owe her a goddamn thing.”

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