Trapped with Mr. Walker

“WHERE’S HARLEY?”

“She stayed at home. She’s exhausted. Griffin and Maria’s baby pigeon hatched yesterday, and she’s been helping feed it every two hours.”

I crack my knuckles as I look at Stuart and slide into the seat of the backstage waiting area. We’re at a news studio, and I’m fresh from the make-up room, about to do a live interview. It’s been two days since I was announced as the Mayor Elect for the city, and I feel like all I’ve done is interview after interview. It’s all good, though. It gives me time to voice my gratitude to those who voted for me and to try and win over the support of those who didn’t. I can talk about the improvements I plan to make, and the benefits they will bring to the city.

“She told me that was going to happen any day.” Stuart shakes his head, his lips curling into an amused smile. “Wow, that must be more full-on than this. She likes animals though, doesn’t she?”

“She does.” I crack the knuckles on my other hand, not finding any relief.

“You know, for a guy who just landed his dream job, you sure look pleased. In fact, I’d go as far as to say you look about as happy as if you’d landed in a nest of biting ants… dick first.”

I mumble an incoherent response, but Stuart won’t leave it damn well alone. He knows me too well and can tell when something’s off.

“C’mon, Walker. Tell me what I can do to get that charming smile on your face in the next”—he checks his Rolex—“ten minutes. Because that’s how long it is until you’re up.”

“I’m fine. I’m great,” I lie. What else can I say? That my girlfriend has practically moved out to look after a featherless chick around the clock? That I miss her more than anything? But that I could deal with it in the short term if I knew it was making her happy?

Except I can’t because she’s not.

Maria named the bird Rosie. Looking after her like this would usually mean Harley would be in her element. Her eyes would sparkle the way they do when she’s excited, and she would likely talk non-stop about baby bird stuff and random facts she’s read about them while pacing around in those pink, fluffy slippers. But the slippers have been abandoned in our hallway, taunting me with her absence each time I pass them. And when I went up to their apartment last night, Harley was taking a nap and never woke when I sat next to her on the guest bed. Then this morning, she was in the shower with the door locked, and I could barely make out what she was saying through the door. A mumbled ‘see you later’ or something to that effect.

Something’s wrong.

I can sense it. This isn’t her. The one time I managed to get her on the phone, the dullness in her voice told me enough. Something has sucked the essence out of her. Sucked out what makes her Harley. She told me she’s just tired from Rosie’s intense schedule. Maria has sourced some bird charity to take her that will release her into the wild once she’s big enough. They’re coming tomorrow morning to collect her. So, for now, at least, it looks like Harley won’t be coming home. She insisted Rosie shouldn’t be moved to our apartment overnight, as it wasn’t good to disturb her. And she also refused to have me stay at Griffin’s with her, despite me trying to convince her. She said I need my sleep with all the work I have going on. But she doesn’t understand. I can’t sleep when she’s not in my arms. I had the worst fucking night’s sleep of my life last night, knowing something has upset her and she won’t tell me what.

That’s what fucking hurts the most.

She won’t tell me. After everything, she still doesn’t what? Trust me? Want to share her life, her worries with me? Can’t talk to me?

The not knowing is hell.

“Just a bad night’s sleep, that’s all,” I say to Stuart, avoiding looking him directly in the eyes.

I hate lying. Not that it is a lie. But it’s a half-truth. I can’t say any more, though. Not when I don’t even know what the fuck is going on myself. She started acting differently on election night. She disappeared, and I found her outside saying she had gotten hot and needed some air. But there’s more to it than that. I know there is. I’ve been wracking my brain as to who she spoke to that night and what could have happened to upset her, but I have nothing.

Nothing.

Except this gut-wrenching rawness low in my stomach. Deep and instinctual, like a warning. Fight or flight.

I know without a doubt I will fight for Harley. There’s no scenario in the world where I wouldn’t fight for her if she’s in trouble. So that leaves the other half of the equation…

Flight.

Why do I get the sickening feeling Harley is distancing herself from me? Not just physically, but emotionally? And why the hell would she when everything between us is so perfect?

The only thing that’s changed is me winning the election. And the joy on her face when it was announced was genuine. The light in her eyes, the beaming smile on her face… I didn’t make that up.

She was happy.

What the hell could have changed so drastically in less than forty-eight hours?

A studio assistant comes into the room and gives me a nod that it’s time. It’s a welcome distraction from where my mind was taking me.

“See, it’s all good.” I turn and flash Stuart my practiced smile as I rise from my seat and button my suit jacket with one hand. This is my signature setting, calm on the outside, in control. No matter what headfuck scenarios are playing out in my mind. A trait that will serve me well in the role of mayor. Only show them what’s on the surface. What they need to know.

“All right, Mr. Mayor.” Stuart cocks an eyebrow and smirks. “Just keep your face like that and we’re all good.”

Yeah. We’re all good.

If only it were as easy as a perfect fake smile.

“I think that was one of your best interviews to date.” Stuart chews a mouthful of his sandwich as we take a short break from discussing who I want to appoint to different city departments. One of my powers as mayor allows me to select who I wish to run as Commissioner for the Fire, Police, Education, Housing, and Transport Departments.

“Good. I’m glad I got my key points across.” I finish my lunch and throw the wrapper across the room, expertly landing it in the trash can.

“That was luck.” Stuart chuckles as I shrug my shoulders. Humble in victory. “But I’m glad you’re looking less like you just smelled a week-old shit. Whatever’s cheered you up since this morning has my extreme gratitude.”

I don’t tell him that it’s the gif Harley texted me earlier. One of a sleepy puppy that keeps almost dropping off, until finally, it lands face first in its dinner bowl. She’d written the words, ‘This is me’ underneath, and then sent another text immediately after saying, I’m sorry I’ve not been home. I miss sleeping in your arms. I miss finding you’ve stolen my shampoo again. I miss running my fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck. And I miss hearing you call me Angel. It’s been less than forty-eight hours and I miss you as if it’s been forty-eight years.

Her words brought a lump the size of Brooklyn to my throat, and I dialed her immediately and we had a few moments to talk before I let her go, hearing the exhaustion in her voice, and knowing she needed to nap while she could.

But it was enough.

It was enough to tide me over until tonight. Because there’s no fucking way I’m spending another night apart. I will camp on Griffin’s kitchen floor and feed Rosie every second, if that’s what it takes to be back with Harley again.

“You know what is going to cheer me up even more?” I ask Stuart as I pick up some paperwork from the desk. “Getting the men and women I want running these departments. The ones I know will put their heart into it, see it as a privilege to serve the people of this city, and do the role justice.”

“Amen to that.” Stuart grins, tossing his sandwich wrapper toward the trash can and smirking at me when it goes in. “Who’s first?”

“Okay. So, Lisette Gregson in housing. I want her to stay. She’s made some great decisions. She was one of Dennis Vincent’s smarter choices.”

Stuart snorts. I know what he’s thinking. She was the previous Mayor’s only smart choice. Turns out even jerks like Dennis get it right sometimes.

“But as for George Yates?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Stuart grimaces. “And I agree. No doubt about it. He’s got to go.”

I nod as we decide the fate of the current Police Commissioner, who’s served two terms under Dennis Vincent. Two cockroaches sticking together. I had my suspicions even before Dennis leveraged his position to pardon a known drugs kingpin and got him off with a light warning and slap on the wrist. He would have had assistance inside the NYPD to help sink that shit. I can’t prove it. But I can do this. Bye-bye, George.

“See.” The corners of my mouth lift as I look at Stuart. “Told you this would cheer me up.”

An hour later and we’re heads down, discussing my final choice for the position of Deputy Mayor, when there’s a knock at the door. One of the campaign team pokes his head around the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”

“Oh?” I rise from my chair, almost knocking it onto the floor with eagerness. My chest lifts as I hope to see Harley appear in the doorway.

“She said her name’s Bea.”

“Oh.” The sound falls from my lips like wet earth sliding off a churchyard shovel.

“What does she want?” Stuart echoes my exact thoughts, and I throw my pen down on the desk before I cross the room.

“I’ll speak to her. Give me five minutes, then we’ll get straight back to where we were.”

I walk out into the main office. Most of the team has gone now that the election is over. And the few that have stayed to help and will probably have roles once I officially take office in six weeks’ time are at lunch.

Bea stands in the center of the room in a royal blue dress, black heels that look like weapons, and a shiny, red-lipped smile that may as well be a poison apple. I find it hard to believe that we ever dated, however brief. I may not have had the most honorable intentions in my encounters with the opposite sex since our relationship ended, but none of the women I used to acquaint myself with shared the same hardness in their eyes that Bea does.

When I hit my low point all those years ago, she was the first one out the door. She realized she wasn’t engaged to an up-and-coming music producer, as she had allowed herself to believe, and that was that. She did me a favor. I’ve always hated break-up conversations. Finding her gone one day with a note that simply said, ‘We aren’t going to work. It’s over’, was the best luck I’d had in months.

Bea knows what she wants. And that’s her priority every time. She’s heartless and places value on her status rather than in her relationships. Her and Graham are a fine match.

“Bea. This is a surprise.” I keep my tone polite but clipped. Whatever she’s come to say, she can say fast. Stuart and I have a few more things to go over, and then I’m going home to see Harley. And no one, especially not Bea, is going to make me miss a second.

“Yes,” she drawls as her eyes assess me, a brow arching as her gaze passes over my crotch and to my hands on my hips. “Well, I wanted to congratulate you in person. I understand why you were voted in.”

I tip my chin, my back remaining ramrod straight. “Thank you.”

“I expect you have a lot to figure out now. Who you’re going to appoint, and everything else you need to arrange.” She glances around the room, an amused curl to her lips as she looks at a campaign poster with my face on it. As far as pictures of myself go, it’s not bad. Harley even joked she wanted one for home to talk to when I’m out.

I take a slow breath, my shoulders relaxing as I picture Harley’s smile.

“Actually, the majority of the decisions are already made. I knew before the election where my faith lies should I be in the position to choose.” The hairs on the back of my neck rise as Bea smirks at my words.

“I’m sure you did. You always were organized. And skilled at taking control.” Her eyes drop down my body again, and I clench my teeth, irritation flaring inside me and puffing my chest out.

“I appreciate you stopping by,” I say, allowing the suggestion in my words to invite her to leave. Instead, she walks closer to me and reaches out, trailing a blood-red nail down the lapel of my jacket. Her perfume invades my lungs as she closes the distance and suddenly hugs me, pressing her face against my neck and her tits against my chest.

What the hell does she think she’s doing?

I grip both of her shoulders and move her back swiftly, every muscle in my back tightening. She looks up at me through her lashes.

“I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

“I can’t say the same,” I grunt, letting her arms go. The corners of her eyes pinch. But it’s not hurt causing them to do it. Not unless hurt pride counts. Bea always fed off attention. Especially from men. She’s an attractive woman. Dark hair, tiny waist, big tits. Puffy full lips that look like she’s a natural at giving head. But even though I can see all that, the knowledge of who she is beneath it all couldn’t make me less attracted to her.

Especially now.

All I think about is blonde hair, baby blue eyes, pink lips, and a soft voice that makes me feel like I’m in fucking utopia when it sighs my name.

My Angel.

“Why are you here, Bea?” I try again. The little reminiscing for old time’s sake hasn’t worked, so I know she’ll give me the real reason for her visit.

“Like I said. I wanted to congratulate you.” She wets her lips as her eyes glance to my neck and quickly away again. “How does Harley feel about the upcoming move to Gracie Mansion?”

The tightened muscles in my back are joined by the muscles in the rest of my body hearing Bea say Harley’s name. She says it so sweetly through her parted red lips. Deadly poison.

“You didn’t come here to ask after my girlfriend.”

The corners of Bea’s lips curl down at my refusal to discuss Harley with her.

“Fine.” She tilts her chin up at me and sniffs. “I want you to consider talking to Graham. He has some very strong contacts in the city. His knowledge would be useful when choosing your commissioners.”

I swallow down the ball of rage, burning a route up my windpipe and threatening to erupt, incinerating everything in its path. I’m not surprised in the slightest. Honestly, I’m surprised Bea hasn’t come sooner. The fact it’s her approaching me and not Graham tells me one of two things. Either he doesn’t know she’s here. Or she’s convinced him she can sweeten me up first. Make me remember all the non-existent good times we had together all those years ago. I can’t remember a single good thing about our relationship, except the fact that she was happy to only be fucked from behind and not ask questions about why I liked it that way. Even after she saw the texts from Riley and found out about what happened, she never questioned it. She didn’t care then. And she doesn’t care now. Not unless it’s about her.

“I’m aware Graham is very well informed to make such decisions,” I say, noticing Bea’s brows incline. “But I have it handled. Do thank him, though.” I let the practiced smile spread over my face as her brows drop and she purses her lips.

“Okay. I see how it is.” She straightens up and something flashes behind her eyes before she quickly blinks it away. “Well, good luck, Reed. Do give my regards to Harley, won’t you?”

I stare at her, because like fuck am I going to do that. Harley can’t stand Bea any more than I can. And Harley likes almost everyone. She even talks to plants, for fuck’s sake. My lips soften at the mental image of her in those ugly cat pajamas, talking to Bruce and Beryl.

The movement of Bea flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder brings my attention back to her as her lips lift into a tight smile. “Goodbye, Reed.”

“Bea,” I counter, walking her to the door and holding it open for her.

She lifts her eyes to meet mine one more time and her chest rises as though she’s going to say something else. Then she breathes out slowly.

“You’ll be a good mayor, Reed.”

I watch her leave, holding my breath until she’s gone.

What the fuck was that?