Page 25 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“Well, this is quite a development.” Maria motioned between us. “Mr. Mayor, we had no idea you had a boyfriend.”

“We were keeping things lowkey as they developed. It was as much of a surprise to us as it was to you.” Leo had an ease and charm to him. He could tell me the sky was lime green, and I’d believe him.

“And now you’re official?”

“I feel like teenagers labeling our relationship official. It was all very natural. They say the best relationships grow out of friendship…” Leo gazed at me and flashed his confident grin, and damn, I really believed that.

Pull it together, Dusty.

“You two have known each other for a while. Over twenty years.”

“I hope you’re not calling us old.” Leo chuckled. “But yes. Dusty is my best friend. We met in college.”

“So, you just decided to turn this into something romantic?” There was a slight tone to Maria’s voice that put me on guard. Was she leading us into a trap?

“It wasn’t a decision per se, but something that developed naturally.” Leo’s voice had an edge to it, a pleasant pushback.

“Did the article from Mr. Damian Van Drew have any influence on your relationship?”

“I don’t see why it would.” Leo tightened his arm around me. “That was an experience from earlier this year. Dusty and I have been romantically involved since the summer.”

Maria whipped her head to me. “Dusty, what do you think about the scandal?”

By the panicking look Vernita shot me, I had a feeling this answer was in the dossier that I ignored.

“I don’t think about it at all,” I said coolly. “I’m not sure what it has to do with Leo’s ability to lead. In fact, I’m surprised it’s even a story, frankly. Slow news day?” I cocked my head to the side and shot her a smile that informed her two could play at this game.

She jotted away in her notebook, remaining unnervingly objective.

“So, how did we get here?” Maria asked. “You two were friends, and then you suddenly became boyfriends.”

“Dusty was in Boston for a family event.”

“A funeral. Great Aunt Bernice,” I added, wanting extra credit for remembering the cover story.

Leo tapped my foot.

“We met up for dinner at this little French restaurant on the Charles. Little candles on the tables.” Leo pulled me closer to him, perhaps to keep me in line.

We had gone over this story on the car ride over, Leo and Vernita drilling down every last detail. My vote for the fake story was Italian because a French bistro was too cliché, and the food was never as good as the ambiance, but I was shot down. Italian food was too heavy and could stir mafioso connections, according to Vernita.

The funny thing was, our date was something we would never do in reality. During the times when we’d hang out in person, Leo and I didn’t meet up at fancy restaurants. We grabbed a booth in the back of a sports bar, sharing apps while catching up for hours. Or we went to Applebee’s, but I knew the A-word was verboten.

“We both got the coq au vin without asking what the other was getting. It was a fun coincidence that happens a lot with us. And something started to click.” Leo chuckled at the non-existent memory. I wanted to fake order the veal, but that would’ve offended animal rights people too much.

“We talked about families and life and what we’ve been up to, nearly shut the restaurant down. Then we walked to an ice cream shop around the corner, and I’m usually not a dessert person. But Dusty insisted. He said no meal can end without dessert.”

I never said that. Only grandparents said shit like that. I suggested we fake go for gelato, but that was shot down because French food plus gelato would’ve been European overkill and made us come off as snobby. Vernita decided that if it came up, Leo ordered rum raisin, a flavor she decided was mature and sophisticated.

“We walked along the river on this perfect summer night. I didn’t want this night to end. It was something in the air.”

Leo stuck to the script perfectly, hitting every beat of the story. Great, right? But as he went on, I found myself getting annoyed. Things were too fake. Candlelit French restaurants and long walks along the river? It was like something out of a dating ad.

Maria nodded accordingly, but I could see the boredom coalescing in her eyes. It was the equivalent of listening to an economics lecture. Even she could tell Leo’s answers were too rehearsed, too safe.

“That’s a lovely story,” she said. “Our readers will get a kick out of it.” She flipped her notepad shut and turned off the recording.

“Did you have any other questions?” Leo asked. “We still have a half-hour booked for the interview.”

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