Page 43 of The Mayor and the Mystery Man

“They’re headed in the right direction, but we’re not in the clear yet,” she said. “We need to keep up the momentum. Remember, Leo’s still coming back from the brink of scandal. Dusty, you’re helping to get people to forget that, but then that only brings us to zero essentially.”

“So us making out is the answer?” Dusty asked.

He hated this idea. And I hated that I didn’t hate it.

Fortunately, Vernita stepped in here as I was frozen with awkwardness.

“There is some social media chatter about you two. Some people wonder if you’re just friends.”

Dusty let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, they’re not wrong.”

I shut my eyes. One day, far in the future, this would be funny. But not today. “We reviewed some of our public footage. And it does seem that way. We need to get better at acting like a real couple, and that includes a kiss.”

“Applefest is coming up, and this will be huge,” Vernita said.

“What’s Applefest?”

“Applefest is Sourwood’s fall festival downtown. Vendors and local artisans line the streets, and a popular local cover band plays the concert Saturday night. It’s the biggest event of the season and attracts huge crowds.”

“Read: voters,” I chimed in.

“The mayor always has a booth there. And it’ll be your best opportunity to meet with a large swath of Sourwood residents.”

“Voters, right?” Dusty asked sarcastically.

I made a face at him.

“You two can be more intimate there,” Vernita said with all the swoon of a cardboard box. “Light petting, holding hands, a kiss here and there. We’re thinking that when Leo introduces the band performing that night—when crowds are at maximum levels—you two can passionately kiss. It’ll be a real moment, like when Al kissed Tipper Gore at the 2000 DNC.”

“Didn’t he still lose?” Dusty asked.

I held up a hand. “Let’s not relitigate that election, please.” I still had nightmares about the 2000 election and hanging chads.

“So all we need to do is kiss?” Dusty asked with a touch of nerves in his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Yes. I know. This is—this whole thing is nuts.”

He shrugged. “If you don’t win, then all of this will be for nothing.”

Not for nothing, I thought. I’d enjoyed having Dusty here, not just in texts and phone conversations. A part of me had worried what our friendship would be like if we were around each other all the time. It only got stronger.

“Do you have a problem with this? Are you on board?” Vernita asked me when I walked her to her car. “Just remember—this dog and pony show is only to get elected, then you can continue to be the great leader you have been. This is the spoonful of sugar to help the medicine go down for voters.”

She’d been at this game for a long time. As had I. We knew how it went. But this felt different, more personal.

“It’ll be okay,” I said. I had to kiss my best friend, something I’d wanted to do for years.

No problem. I was a professional.

* * *

That night,I couldn’t sleep. No surprise there. I had something new to keep me up. I lay down on the couch after drinking a glass of red wine. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and for a moment, things felt peaceful enough for me to find a window for sleep. As I closed my eyes, I heard footsteps by the fridge.

“Don’t mind me. I needed a snack.” Dusty came into the living room a minute later with cream cheese on a pumpernickel bagel and an empty wine glass. “I can’t get enough of these bagels.”

“Don’t make a mess,” I said, a force of habit.

“How can I make a mess with a bagel?”

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