“Not at all, not at all,” I murmur, explaining I was just on my way to collect my dry cleaning and I’m glad I could help.
Mustering what looks like all the patience he has left, Mayor Newland tells Krystal he’ll follow her home in his car.
“We still have a ton of things to arrange before tomorrow, as I’m sure Mr. Silverthorn does too,” he grimaces, holding the door open for Krystal.
“About tomorrow?” I ask him, launching myself towards the door. “I really have no idea what to expect… I mean, I know I’ve been asked to speak but it’s nothing political, I hope?” I ask, trying to sound as naive as I can.
Mayor Newland laughs loudly, instantly at ease now, and slaps me on the back as I pull my door shut behind us all as he walks me to my car. I watch Krystal go to hers and try to hold her eyes with mine as long as I can.
But something tells me I won’t get another chance to see her before tomorrow’s gala dinner and ball, which is set to start early for me.
I have to hand all those fliers out around town as well as at the gates, reminding folks who to vote for and why.
“It’s not political, James,” he says confidentially, pressing his hand into mine and using it to try and pull me closer which simply doesn’t work.
“It’s a friendly town, James. Traditional. We like things just the way they are and you’ll be afforded every courtesy along with the other candidates,” he reminds me.
‘Before you lose and I drive you out of town’, is what he really means.
“Well, that sets my mind at ease,” I tell him sincerely, noticing his curious look.
“And what if you don’t win the seat of Mayor, James?” he asks, trying not to smile, “What then?”
I can’t help but look over to Krystal again before pretending to look thoughtfully around me at the township beyond.
“Oh, I dunno… I’ve seen a lot to keep me here already, Mayor Newland. I don’t think you’ll get rid of me that easily,” I tease him, winking in Krystal’s direction.
Chapter Five
Krystal
Two things I can’t believe.
That dad would actively follow me all the way to James’ and second…
No. Was he really just about to?
He wouldn’t have. He couldn’t.
I know he was.
I’ve never kissed a boy let alone a real man, not like that anyway. Kissing my dad goodnight and for his birthday doesn’t count.
But when James Silverthorn summoned me over I knew it was serious. I just didn’t think it was that serious.
Holy cannoli.
James Silverthorn almost kissed me.
I don’t even remember the drive home, and even once dad starts to lecture me once we’re back in the office, all I can do is replay the moment over and over again in my mind.
He was going to kiss me, and then dad walked in on us but James is so smart he just turned it all to his advantage.
He also gave me more than I bargained for in the process, copping a feel of the man’s front after his huge, powerful hand fished into my skirt to snatch my cellphone out.
He didn’t laugh or point. He didn’t give me those sympathetic eyes I usually get from the nicer people, nor the horrible remarks from the meaner ones.
James Silverthorn actually likes me.
Likes me enough to want to kiss me anyway, and the way my life’s going that might be as close as I get to eternal happiness with any man.
But oh, what a man.
I sigh heavily at the memory, slumping into my office chair with what I know is a huge smile on my face as my dad rumbles and groans about all that needs doing.
“Are you even listening to me, Krystal?” My dad sighs, waving a hand in front of my face.
“I said I think it’s fine by me if you don’t want to go to the dinner and ball… Too boring for you, I’m sure. If you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all, right?” he says repeating himself, glancing at me sideways after registering my reaction.
“Oh, dad. Don’t be silly, of course, I’m going. I was just teasing so you’d buy me a new outfit,” I inform him, a matter of fact.
His face falls and his shoulders stoop again. He pinches his brow as if he’s trying to think of something, some reason I really couldn’t go with him or be there at all.
But we both know there isn’t one, just a few hours earlier he was practically begging me to go.
Now, I think we both know what’s really drawing me there. Like a moth to a flame.
James Silverthorn.
Looking past dad, I can see a few of James fliers that ended up in his lot, screwed up in tight little balls on his office floor, some torn to shreds on his desk.