Page 39 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“Maybe I should hire a five-year-old to say it with a pout. Can we do that? Go through a casting agency?”

“No,” she said firmly, shutting down what would’ve been a horrible idea anyway. “But we can fight back.”

“I thought we were. That’s what the whole fake boyfriend thing is supposed to be doing.” A twinge of pain lanced my chest at calling Dusty a fake anything. “Dusty’s been doing a great job. People like him. We got a huge response at the latest campaign rally.”

“We did,” she said with hesitation.

“The tone in your voice is terrifying me right now.”

“I’ve been monitoring social media reaction, and there is some chatter about people wondering if you’re still just friends.”

“Fucking internet.” My job was reduced to pleasing anonymous commenters online. I was a step above YouTube influencer.

“They’re not completely wrong.” Vernita tapped on her phone, bringing up another video. “This is from the campaign rally.”

On screen, I was giving a rousing speech at Renegade Park, the plant in the background, talking about the plans for the space. People were cheering. I didn’t have sweat half-moons under my arms. What was the problem here?

And then I saw it.

When I left the stage, Dusty and I hugged. He clapped me on the shoulder. It was as if we were two distant cousins forced to see each other at a family function and were pleasantly saying goodbye. It was downright clinical.

“I don’t see anything wrong,” I said, lying through my teeth.

Lying was useless to Vernita.

“What do you want? Me to get off stage and start dry humping him?”

“You two seem platonic. Not as flirty as you were during your interview with Maria Lopez. We don’t want to arouse any suspicion.”

Arousal was not my problem. I was doing that just fine. Being around Dusty was giving me a constant erection. There were a few close calls when I almost crossed the line between us—namely our first run together—and maybe my clinicalness was merely insurance against dry humping my best friend.

“I’ll make sure to do more light petting and handholding. Sound good?”

“Actually…”

Another familiar Vernita face. Her lips pressed together into a forced smile that meant she was going to ask me to do something I really didn’t want to do.

“What?” I asked.

11

DUSTY

Ihad the day off from fake boyfriend responsibilities. Ari was home sick, so I agreed to be home with him. After going for another run with Leo, I came home, showered, and had a relaxing breakfast while he left for City Hall. I stared at the sagging bookcases in the living room. They were so warped it was like the shelves were smiling at me.

Ari stumbled downstairs in his pajamas.

“Hey, champ. How you feeling?”

He sniffled and coughed. “Fine,” he said in that flat, nasal tone that belonged to everyone suffering from a cold.

“I’ll toast up a bagel for you with a side of orange,” I said. Ari gave me a grateful thumbs up. “Show me your tongue.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Ari stuck out his tongue. A white film coated the surface. “Yep. You’re still sick. Healthy tongues are red.”

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