Page 50 of Lovetown, USA
But I have patients to see, so the nosy ass townsfolk, local reporters, a few of my neighbors, and the mayor will have to wait.
The first time I get a chance to breathe is lunchtime, but I only take five minutes to scarf down the sandwich Asia bought for me before I shut myself in my office, close the door, and pick up my phone. The first person I have to call is Mayor Daphne.
She picks up on the first ring, already at full throttle.
“What the hell was that?” she yells. “Do you have any idea the damage she did with that article? And it’s just the first of many, Trey! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!?!”
I sit back in my chair. “First of all, you ain’t about to be yellin’ at me like that, Daphne. I’m a grown ass man. Watch your fucking tone.”
Silence stretches between us for a few moments before she says, “Sorry. I’m frustrated.”
“I get that. But listen, Lane is a journalist, not a pet I keep on a leash. I don’t control what she does. Or what she writes.”
“I know that,” she says, her voice aggressively controlled. “You were supposed to charm her. Woo her. Instead, she doesn’t even take you seriously.”
I blow out a sigh. “I haven’t exactly had a chance to romance her yet.”
There’s a pause, then her voice sharpens. “What about City Hall? The letters? I arranged that for you, Trey. It should have been a slam dunk.”
“It was. But she’d probably already written her column. Those things don’t get posted live. I’m sure she sent it to an editor and all that jazz.”
She’s quiet.
“And that was just the first step,” I say.
“First step,” she repeats, then I hear the click of her tongue. “I hope you aren’t losing your touch.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. My touch is just fine, believe me.”
She chuckles.
“I just need more time. Patience, Daphne. It was never your strong suit.”
“Whatever. Listen, don’t screw this up. There’s too much at stake. I’m serious.”
“I got it,” I mutter. “I’m on it.”
When the line goes dead, I lean back in my chair and think about her last words to me. I know she cares a lot about tourism and the way the town is branded, but the way she said it, the fear in her voice…there’s something deeper behind it. Something I don’t understand.
I brush the thought aside. I have enough problems without adding political intrigue to the pile.
Like Lane, for example.
I dial her next. Her voice is light when she answers, like she’s been looking forward to my call. But that can’t be right.
“Well if it isn’t the town’s resident Casanova,” she says.
“Yeah. About that.”
She bursts into loud laughter. “I hope you didn’t take it personally, Trey. It’s storytelling, that’s all.”
“I didn’t take it personal,” I lie, relieved that she doesn’t really see me that way. “It was funny. You’re a great writer.”
“Aww, thanks.”
“What are you up to?”
“I’m actually getting ready for a date.”
