Page 101 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“I haven’t messed up anyone’s drinks yet. Mitch hasn’t removed me from my perch.”

“Congrats on not wildly fucking up.”

“Thank you, Leo. I appreciate that.” He wiped down the bar, then flipped the dishtowel back in place. “Did you want a drink?”

“I’ll take an old-fashioned.”

An old-fashioned was my favorite, but also one of the more complicated drinks.

Cal shot me a look of death.

“Beer it is.”

He cracked a beer for me. I surveyed the room of those here to celebrate. No matter how the results came in, I was incredibly lucky to be surrounded by supportive, loving people in my life. Across the room, I made eye contact with Dusty, who was talking with campaign volunteers. He tipped his head to me, and it was a thunderbolt to my heart.

Man, I was totally one of those suckers now, wasn’t I?

Dusty ran over, flanked by the twins, interrupting my train of thought. “You have to come see what’s on TV.”

Lucy turned on her iPhone to record reactions from tonight to use as social media content for future campaigns. She’d pitched me ideas for campaign ads for the future, and I was impressed by her creativity. I had really awesome kids.

I took Dusty’s hand and walked to one of the TVs hoisted over the bar. There was my face side by side with Rita’s. Because of the close race and my scandals, our mayoral race was one of the more high-profile local elections in the area.

“We have some updates as more precincts come in,” the newscaster said. “In the hotly contested local mayoral race in Sourwood, with seventy percent of precincts reporting, we can project that Leo McCaslin will win re-election.”

A huge green checkmark appeared next to my name. Whatever the newscaster said next was drowned out by the cheers that erupted. I became enveloped in a circle of hugs and backslaps and, most importantly, kisses from Dusty. It was like being carried off the field. I couldn’t see outside the swarm of well-wishers. I couldn’t hear anything but cheers and applause. It was sensory overload, a greater feeling than my previous victories.

Mitch broke in and took the busboy crate from me. “You’re off the clock. Go celebrate.” His voice was firm. No room for negotiation here. “Congratulations, buddy.”

The rest of the night was a blur of people congratulating me and donors looking to get plans back on track for things they wanted. I shook so many hands that my palms were sore by the end. That was the thing about being a politician. You were always campaigning, always working a room. It was a good thing I enjoyed people.

I stepped onto the balcony to catch my breath despite the cold. The night air refreshed me.

“You need some alone time?” Dusty asked at the door. Perfect timing. He was a perpetual sight for sore eyes.

“Never.” I nodded for him to join me. He curled against my side as I wrapped my arm around him. We took in the soft sounds of the river, the crisp night air. It was the cherry on top of an incredible night.

“How does it feel to be mayor...again?”

“Feels like the first time.” I kissed the top of his head, smelled his shampoo, which was actually mine. It made me think of home all the same.

“When do you start your campaign for governor?”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

“I know how politics works. I’ve learned a thing or two being your fake boyfriend.”

Yesterday, Harlen Carruthers came out endorsing me for mayor. He wanted to resume talks about having me run for governor in four years, with Dusty at my side.

“Right now, I’m focused on leading Sourwood. And then we’ll see.” I had a feeling the next morning, Vernita would be at our house devising a strategy for statewide office. Then donors across the state would get word and come forward. More planning, more hobnobbing. It was a lot to prepare for, and I started to get nervous.

Seeming to sense this, Dusty gave my hand a squeeze, putting me at ease. All at once, anything felt possible.

29

DUSTY

Afew weeks later…

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