Electing For her Curves

The brushes tickle my nose and the pencils and eyeliner make me squish my face and blink so much she tells me off a few times and starts over.

But in what really feels like no time at all, I finally sense she’s finished.

A little grunt of satisfaction from her is my cue to open my eyes again.

It takes all I have not to cry. I don’t want to ruin the makeup.

I’m speechless. I’ve never felt, ever looked so… so…

“Not bad,” she murmurs with a smug expression, whipping off the plastic cape she covered me with and wasting no time in hurrying me up.

She shows me the views from behind and from the side, making me terrified I’ll ruin something in the next few hours before the ball.

“Just don’t cry or eat a bowl of spaghetti, and that should last all night,” she says confidently.

I fumble for my purse, hoping she doesn’t notice my look of even greater shock when she tells me how much.

I didn’t think it would be so expensive and find myself fidgeting for the emergency use only credit card my dad got for me when I went to college.

I never used it, and only hope it’s still good. If there ever was an emergency, it’s today.

“Now, I gotta close up. Got my own hair and face to do,” she announces, passing me the receipt which I bury in my jeans pocket, so deep I hope it and the whole transaction disappears by morning.

“Thank you… uh?” I stammer.

“Bernice,” she murmurs over her shoulder, lifting a nearly empty wine bottle from behind a curtain and squinting at its contents.

“Bernice,” I repeat under my breath, feeling a silent thrill as I catch a final glimpse of myself on the way out.

I’ve never felt or looked so good in my life.

So good I think even James might not even recognize me.

“Krystal and James,” I say to myself in the rearview mirror once I’m in my car again, almost too eager to get changed and seek out the man himself.

Chapter Twelve

James

I’m no stranger to dealing with the media, and it isn’t long before I can tell Mayor Newland regrets whatever stunt he’s trying to pull.

It’s backfired for him, big time.

Once it’s clear the out of town media is in fact national news and they’re hot on the trails of the rumor that James Silverthorn actually is running for Mayor in some pokey little town, the current Mayor doesn’t stick around long to answer any questions himself.

I humbly wish all my fellow candidates well and spend the rest of the next hour and a half fielding questions about my numerous business interests and how the rumors, now proven to be true have sent my stock prices soaring.

Whenever James Silverthorn is seen to be doing something new, something different, everybody who’s anybody with money to invest wants to become involved.

I can’t and won’t discuss the real reason why I’m here in Woods End.

That’s between me and Krystal. It’s nobody else’s business. But the media attention is here now and it’s a firm reminder that I need to keep Krystal out of the spotlight, at least for now.

I want her all to myself. There’ll be plenty of time later for very different kinds of announcements if I have anything to do with it.

“Well, I gotta wrap things up,” I announce, holding up both palms when there are a few pleas for just one more question.

I finally manage to make my way outside, only to find what looks like half the town there all wanting to meet me and shake my hand.

Word’s spread like it does in any small town, and the truth behind the stranger running for Mayor is well and truly out.

Most people have never heard of me unless they’re in the same business or investors. But some in this town seems fascinated in the knowledge that a big shot from the city has chosen little old Woods End for his new home, taking a step back from big business to live a simpler life and hopefully, I tell them, as their new Mayor.

No sign of the current Mayor and after a lot of handshaking and backslapping, I manage to make my way to my car, promising to see everyone again in a few hours for the dinner and ball afterward.

Trying not to spin my wheels as I leave, I can’t get away from the crowds and that damned Town Hall fast enough.

I make my way straight to Krystal’s place, and punch the wheel when I see there are no cars in the driveway now.

Dammit.

She’s gone out someplace, but who knows where?

It’s hopeless I know, but I park and get out, ringing the bell and knocking on the door for a good ten minutes before a neighbor pokes their head over the fence, telling me she left not long ago.