Page 90 of Catfish

Not use me for their personal vendettas.

“What do you think I should do?” I’m genuinely curious. How would my best friend get his money back from a man who stole from the city to feed into his desires?

“I’d have to think about it, something obviously legal.”

I nod, leaning back in my chair. "Says the lawyer, of course." He fixes me with a look of frustration, so I put him out of his misery. "He's going to be taken down by his own sword."

His eyebrow rises. “Care to enlighten me?”

I kick my feet up onto my desk and relax in my chair. “It’s been three months since I’ve helped Montgomery replenish the funds he stole from the city’s treasury. I already pulled a stunt with one of his hookers at his anniversary party that only chipped a small piece off his pristine career. I’m going to request for the treasurer to do an early audit on the city’s treasury.”

A mirthless laugh escapes Chase’s lips. “And become the hero by restoring your funds into the city’s bank.”

“While he tries to throw me under the bus, I’m sure.”

Chase holds up his can of Coke in silent salute. “And you win the city of Bridgeport. You’re a fucking genius.”

“Don’t say it too many times, I might grow a big head.”

He laughs. “Too late.”

“Then I’ll let—fuck, what was his receptionist's name again?” I say to myself.

“Mila or something.”

“Right, she’ll leak the tape.”

“Why her?”

I perk a brow. “For obvious reasons.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Chase voices. “She’ll be surrounded by reporters.”

“Good thing she works for me then. I’ll protect her.”

“Well, that's one thing I’ll give you, you make sure your employees are taken care of.”

I raise my Coke. “Hence their loyalty.”

"It works." We clink our aluminum cans together and take a drink. "How are the fundraiser plans?"

Besides it being thirty-two hours that Reagan has had the contract and still hasn’t made any contact to accept or turn the job down—going fucking great.

“You’d have to ask Emmy, she’s been trying to get this new party planner.”

“The one I made the contract for?”

“The one.”

“Meant to ask you about that,” he states, fixing me with a suspicious stare.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

"Now, I'm intrigued." He smiles so big that his perfect teeth are shamelessly exposing themselves. "Why so detailed and meticulous?"

“Maybe because I’m running for president?” I’m hoping my rising brow gets him to shut up but, alas...

“You didn’t have me make one for Viola.”

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