Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Karl

As I walk into the conference room, Sarah, my election manager, is already there, poring over some documents spread out on the table. I'm still dressed in my workout clothes from my earlier training session with Abby, but I know Sarah won't mind.

It's an informal meeting, and I think she’s become accustomed to meeting me under even worse conditions. If I'm being honest, I'm not even sure if she ever notices what I'm wearing at all.

“Karl,” she says, looking up as I enter, “you're here just in time. We've got a lot to discuss.”

I take a seat across from her, leaning back in my chair. Sarah isn't one to mince words, and I like that about her, but I know what she’s going to say.

She wasn't expecting me to make that little announcement at the masquerade, and I can only imagine what that whole debacle did to my approval ratings. I know I should have not only told her but also Abby, and I know they're both pissed at me, but I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Call it... damage control.

All thanks to my brother and his evil girlfriend. I blame most of this on no one but them, although certain people may disagree with that sentiment.

“I assume we're talking about the masquerade?” I ask, leveling Sarah with a cautious glint in my eyes.

Sarah nods, and her expression is one of nothing but concern. I can feel my heart sinking already just from looking at her; I wonder if the results are even worse. Maybe that little display at the party threw a wrench into things. And with the election announcement date so close, I'm not sure what else could be possibly done to remedy the damage.

“Lay it on me,” I say, gesturing for her to continue.

She sighs, taking off her glasses and setting them down on the stack of papers in front of her. “The event this weekend certainly did make a splash,” she says with a slightly wry chuckle. “But believe it or not, your approval ratings did increase.”

"So that's a good thing,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “I guess that's better than I thought.”

But Sarah shakes her head, and I can feel my heart sink again. “Don't start celebrating so soon. They didn't increase as much as we projected,” she says. “Some people were a bit... put off by the drama.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Dammit,” I mutter. “I knew the drama might have overshadowed the positive aspects of the evening. But what can we do about it now? The election is so close.”

Sarah leans forward, her eyes locked onto mine. “We can capitalize on it,” she says firmly. “We have another opportunity to boost your image and approval ratings, and it involves a public project that's been in the works for a while.”

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued by whatever she’s got up her sleeve. “What project are you talking about?” I ask.

She smiles, and it's clear she's been waiting for this moment. “The new library project in town,” she says. “It's a major undertaking, and it has already garnered a lot of attention. We can use it to show the community that you're not just all about throwing money at problems, but are rather willing to put in real labor and effort.”

I'm taken aback by the suggestion. A new library? I've heard about the project, hell, I've even funded it; but I never expected to be involved in anything more than providing financial support. The idea of rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands dirty is, well, unexpected.

“I guess I see your point,” I say slowly, still processing the idea. “But I already volunteered last week.” Sarah leans back, and I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes at me. “Karl, you can't just volunteer once and expect people to love everything about you,” she says.

I frown. “I'm not expecting everyone to—"

“That's neither here nor there,” Sarah interrupts, waving her hand dismissively. “What I'm saying is this: you need to start showing some real elbow grease around town. You've gotta get your hands dirty, appeal to the everyday person. I know you've done it before, and you can do it again.”

As she speaks, realization dawns on me. When I helped Abby with her restaurant and the subsequent cook-off, that was all done with a different goal in mind: the goal of winning Abby back. I guess I didn't look at things like that as opportunities to keep my position as Alpha.

“Alright,” I say. “Go on.”

Sarah takes a deep breath and puts her glasses back on. She pores over the paper in front of her for a moment, which is covered in numbers and handwritten notes. “Judging by my calculations,” she says, “if you do this week long project, you'll—"

“A week?”

“Yes, Karl,” she says exasperatedly. “A week. Now as I was saying, by the end of this project, your approval ratings could finally get you back on track. Just in time for the election announcement, too.”

"And what about my brother?” I ask. “What if he volunteers, too? His approval ratings could just raise steadily above mine.”

“Ethan is gliding along on his sickness to garner sympathy,” Sarah says. “And the fact that he’s the pack’s rightful Alpha by blood. He won't volunteer. And besides, you've got Abby.”

Abby. Her name alone brings a rush of mixed emotions.

“What does she have to do with this?" I ask.

Sarah sighs again. I can tell that I'm driving her insane with my relentless questions, and she must think I'm a moron. “Abby is beloved by many,” she says. “And lots of people are intrigued by your relationship. If you work together on this project, your approval ratings will raise even faster than normally projected.”

“But I can't ask her to volunteer on something like this for an entire week,” I say. “She needs to rest. And with the issue of her restaurant—"

“Karl,” Sarah says, “this could be good for her, too. It's a chance for her to get back out there, to show her face, to show everyone that she’s not in hiding. That she's holding her chin up despite the allegations. It'll make her seem less guilty.”

As Sarah speaks, my eyes slowly begin to widen. Sarah's right; this volunteering event might be good for Abby and her restaurant, but not in the way that Sarah means.

“Sarah, you're a genius,” I say, standing abruptly. “A fucking genius.”

Sarah furrows her brow as she stares at me over the rim of her glasses. “Where are you going?” she asks. “We've still got other matters to discuss.”

“I need to do something,” I say as I stride over to the door. “Can you meet again later?”

"Sure, I guess,” Sarah says with a shrug. “Is everything alright?”

I'm just about to swing the door open and step out, but then pause for a moment, my hand still on the doorknob. It's as if the idea is coming together in my mind, forming into something more cohesive. Finally, I turn back to face Sarah, and there's a grin slowly spreading across my face.

“Hey Sarah,” I say tentatively, “is there a caterer for the event?”