Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Two minutes,” Jim’s voice booms, startling him. Jim, the campaign manager.
Dominic nods. “Right. Got it.”
“Dom, you look sick.” Jolene’s voice is in his ear. “If you’re not feeling well, we can reschedule this event for another day.”
She’d like that, wouldn’t she? So she can bitch to him more about how he’s not doing enough, not striving for more, not working hard or sticking it to the man. Then again, she’ll never let that happen. She’ll let him work to the bone before he ever quits and destroys her reputation.
“No,” he responds abruptly. There’s no way he’s rescheduling, despite the letter in his mailbox this morning. Like Boaz said, there’s no proof. He made sure. Paula Howell, the main competitor running for his governor’s seat, is higher in the projection polls than he is right now. If he reschedules today, he has a feeling she’ll go even higher, and that woman doesn’t deserve them. He’s met her once, during a dinner. She was snarky, crass, and ignorant.
“I have to do this,” Dominic says.
“Okay.” Jolene rubs circles on his upper back, all for show of course. It’s good. People need to believe they’re in love. It makes you look better as a candidate when you have a strong marriage.
“Let’s go, boss,” Jim says, gesturing to the small stage ahead. The stage contains a stand with a microphone and a podium, though Dominic hardly ever uses the podium. The podium restrains him. He likes moving across the stage, connecting with the people. He can’t do that if he’s stuck in one place, plus the people like that about him, how he shifts from left to right, taking in all his supporters, looking deeply into their eyes.
He turns his eyes to Jolene as a woman named Heather, dressed in a sky-blue blazer and matching pants, stands on stage to introduce him. He gives his wife a kiss as all eyes turn to him. Jolene smiles, revealing dimples, and for a split second he thinks it’s a genuine smile, one fueled with love and desire. As he walks up the steps to reach the stage, he’s surrounded by cheers and is facing supporters in blue Baker 2023 T-shirts. On the front of their shirts are the words Uplifting North Carolina. On the back is Baker 2023. All proceeds from shirt sales fund their campaign. As he stands a moment, collecting the microphone in his grasp and allowing his supporters to settle, someone in the crowd catches his eye.
A woman stands in the front row, her hair streaked with silvery gray—but not the sort of gray you get from aging or stress. Her hair has been dyed that color, the rest black, thick, and falling into crinkly waves. An emerald scarf is wrapped around the edges of her hair and her clothes aren’t like the others of the crowd. Everyone is casual, but she appears more witchy bohemian, in a burgundy camisole beneath a deep V-neck T-shirt, khaki palazzo pants, and weathered sandals. A nose piercing is in her left nostril, copper bangles on both wrists, and a layer of necklaces around her neck, one of them made of little skulls. Her outfit stands out boldly, but her eyes are what he notices most. Dark and intense, surrounded by lashes caked in mascara, her eyelids heavy with shimmery purple eyeshadow. She seems to be in her early thirties. As others cheer, smile, and gawk, she simply stares. She doesn’t frown, nor does she smile. Just stares with hardly a blink. For a second, Dominic assumes she isn’t real—that she’s a figment of his imagination. He blinks but she’s still there.
She isn’t his usual supporter, but he’s seen people from all walks of life show up to his rallies. There is something about this woman, though. Something hauntingly familiar, yet he can’t put his finger on it. Or perhaps it’s nothing at all, and it’s simply the way she glares at him so intensely that makes him uncomfortable and more aware of her presence.
He begins his speech with a bang, thanking his supporters for turning up. He moves across the stage with his microphone gripped in hand, focusing on another member of the crowd. He figures if he focuses on others, he won’t be so distracted by the witchy woman.
It works for a while, until the little voice in his ear tells him to switch to the other side of the stage again and level the attention. The little voice is Jim, the eagle-eyed manager. As badly as he wants to ignore the voice and stay on the right side, he has to move. He has to sell it if he wants that position, so he saunters to the left, expecting to see the witchy young woman with the intense eyes, but she’s no longer standing there. He surfs the crowd, mouth still working out that speech, realizing there is no sign of her anymore.