Page 26 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“I think I have what I need. And I know you have a lot to do. I don’t want to keep you.” She stood up and put on her coat. Leo and Vernita traded looks while he desperately clung to the cool, casual persona he’d been cosplaying for this interview.

“Did you know Leo was in a band?”

All eyes turned to me. Panic washed over Leo’s face, but at least I had Maria’s attention.

“In college. He played guitar in a band with other guys on his debate team. They called themselves The Master Debaters.” Leo and his bandmates were ridiculously proud of that name. Even back then, they were dorks for using it.

“Dusty, we don’t have to get into that,” Leo said.

“Mr. Mayor, you were in a band?”

“Oh, he was,” I said. “He was a total rock star—in his head. They played at speech and debate events, sometimes at frat parties. Not any of the cool frats. The nerdy, academic-based ones.” Leo shined in my head, playing on tiny stages for crowds of twenty people max, but he played it like it was Madison Square Garden. “He’d wear a sweatband around his head and ones on his wrists and flick them off at the end of a show. Once in a while, a girl would catch them.”

“She doesn’t need to—I played music in college. A long time ago.” Leo’s reddening face motivated me to keep speaking. As did Maria sitting down and taking out her phone, reopening the recording app.

“What kind of songs did they play?”

“Covers of what was big back then. ‘Nookie’ by Limp Bizkit was a cornerstone of their shows. Leo got so into it, especially the part about taking a cookie and sticking it up your—”

“That’s not—” Leo squeezed my side extra hard, making me emit a sharp tickle-induced laugh. “That was a popular song when we were in college. Every band sang it. Back then, we as a society didn’t recognize how those lyrics could potentially come off as problematic.”

“Didn’t you give yourself laryngitis from that song?”

“I don’t remember.”

“The Master Debaters performed more than ‘Nookie,’” I assured Maria and Leo. His shows came back to me crystal clear. By default, I was their number one fan. “Leo crushed ‘My Own Worst Enemy’ by Lit and ‘The Middle’ by Jimmy Eat World. And anything Foo Fighters. He worships at the altar of Dave Grohl. He tried to grow his hair out like Dave. It did not go well.”

“I looked good!” Leo chimed in.

“Your hair doesn’t grow long. It grows out.” I fumbled fingers through his black locks. “Like a Q-tip.”

Memories flooded my mind of Leo, young and vibrant, the guy who would rip off his tie the second his debate was over and chug a beer in the parking lot. Maturity had stuck a yardstick up his ass.

“You’ll have to dig up pictures from that time. I’m sure they’re out there,” I said. “And Leo would do this dance on stage.” I got up and imitated his moves. “He’d try and do the moonwalk while playing. Or this shimmy thing like he was slow dancing with his guitar.” I rocked in a circle while air-guitaring pitifully. “I’m not doing those moves justice. Get up, Leo.”

He pursed his lips, but it was performative. I caught the sparkle in his eye. Nostalgia had taken hold.

“It was actually more like this.” Leo jumped up and showed off the moves he still had, swaying his hips and bobbing his head, and absolutely rocking out on air guitar. We were hurtled twenty years into the past. “Doing speed debates had made me good at talking fast, which made me really good at the Barenaked Ladies song ‘One Week.’ I would go into the crowd and dance with them while singing.”

Leo had this incredulous look, amazed that he actually did that. Maria was just as surprised but hung on every word.

“Mr. Mayor, do you still play?”

“No.” He shook his head to underline his point. “That was a long time ago. I put my focus on my family and my work.”

“I’m going to change that. That’s my campaign promise,” I said. I squeezed his leg when he sat back down. Just because.

“Any other Leo McCaslin intel?” Maria leaned forward, chin in hands.

“Did you know that Leo tried to be a professional surfer?”

“Wait. What?”

“Uh-huh. The summer after he graduated from law school, he had this idea that fuck it—am I allowed to say ‘fuck it?’”

“Don’t include that,” Leo said.

Maria nodded.

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