Mason (Trinity Academy 2)

Pressing on my ear, I ask, “Preston, are we good to go?”

All four of us have earpieces so we can communicate easily.

“Yes, you remember the signal, right?” his reply comes through the earpiece.

“I adjust my cufflink.”

“Break a leg,” he says, then he begins to sputter, “I-I don’t m-mean literally.”

Lake pats me on the shoulder and says, “I’m going to head to the rendezvous point, so I’m near Preston if anything goes wrong.”

“You do that.”

I turn to Falcon, and when our eyes meet, he says, “Go do this for our women.”

I nod and squaring my shoulders, I grumble, “Time to make my debut.”

A stage assistant comes over to me and attaches a microphone to my jacket.

“You’re good to go,” she says as she steps back.

The Senator begins to introduce me, which has me fisting my hands at my sides.

“Mason Chargill is a bright young man, born and bred right here in California. Today he represents CRC Holdings as the future president, and it is my great pleasure to welcome him to the stage.”

One hell of a loud applause breaks out, and when I walk out onto the stage, it grows even louder.

I take Senator Weinstock’s outstretched hand and shake it. He leans closer and says, “I’m sorry to hear Julian’s under the weather, but we’re honored to have you.”

“Thank you, Senator.”

It took me eight days to plan this moment, and now that I’m here, it makes me feel a sense of power I haven’t felt before. My heart is racing in my chest as my eyes scan over the ocean of people.

Cameras move in front of the stage, and for a moment, my stomach turns with nerves from being on live television.

When silence falls over the crowd, I raise my chin and square my shoulders. Placing my hands on either side of the podium, I wait for a pregnant pause to build before I say, “Thank you for having me, Senator Weinstock.”

I clear my throat and begin with the fake speech so I’ll sound like I’m here for CRC and not revenge. “We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening.” I swallow, and my eyes lock with the camera in front of me. “Some of us let these dreams die, but others nourish and protect them; nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who sincerely hope that their dreams will come true.” Taking a deep breath, I lift my hands from the podium and take a step backward. “Words spoken by Woodrow Wilson.”

Applause breaks out, and I wait for it to die down.

Fuck, there’s so many people.

I take another deep breath, then I continue, “During my attendance at Trinity Academy, I had the great pleasure of meeting two students who brought sunshine and light to our campus. Like any other student, they hope their dreams will come true. We at CRC Holdings invest to help bring those dreams to realization.”

Another applause engulfs the area.

It’s showtime.

My stomach feels like it’s twisted in knots while my heart keeps racing as if I’m running a fucking marathon.

I wait for the applause and cheers from the crowd to calm down before I bring my hands up as if I’m going to adjust the collar of my suit jacket, and taking a deep breath, I adjust my cufflink.

This is for you, Hunt.

Within seconds all the screens around the LA Memorial Coliseum blacks out. Static noise fills the air, and then manic laughter sounds up.

“What’s happening?” I ask, hoping to God I’m pulling off the surprise act.

“And your microphone is cut,” Preston says through the earpiece. “I will tell you before I turn it back on.”

I nod, knowing he can see me.

A murmur of confused voices spread through the crowd.

“Time to pay the piper, bitch,” comes over the speakers. Preston electronically altered my voice for the intro.

“What’s this?” Senator Weinstock asks.

“Daddy,” Serena anxiously cries. “Make it stop. Quickly!” Panic settles over her face as she looks at me.

I walk over to her and place my arm around her shoulder, so it gives the crowd and cameras the impression that I’m supportive of Serena.

“Please don’t do this,” she hisses.

Leaning closer to her, I whisper, “I fucking warned you, Serena. You fucked with the wrong man.”

The footage I took from the Thanksgiving function pops up on the screen. I fake another surprised look, while I remember how hard Preston worked to blur out all the faces. Except for one, of course. He also had to go through months of footage to compile voice clips of Serena talking so we could play them while the video showed.

The video up on the screens shows Serena walking with the pie behind the lining of tables, and then her voice sounds up, “You degraded me and offended my parents in front of the entire nation.” Serena waits until Layla gets closer and then only does she step up to the table, holding the pie out to Layla.