Page 23 of Reptile Dysfunction
“Together, we’ve achieved so much,” the mayor continues with a sickly sweet smile. “From four wonderful years of Pickle Fest to widespread Monsternet for all. Not to mention the recent opening of the Curiosity Commons and much more. In this second term, we will focus on economic vitality, educational excellence, and environmental stewardship. With your diversity and voices, we will foster inclusivity and unity, ensuring every citizen feels valued.”
“I pledge to lead with integrity, transparency, and accountability. Together, let us build a city we are proud to call home — a city of opportunity, compassion, and a brighter future for all.”
The crowd goes absolutely nuts at this, but all I can do is scoff. Integrity? Transparency? Accountability? Sounds like someone’s compensating. Probably because he knows I’m onto him.
I wonder if he’s spotted me in the crowd, and I scowl extra hard just in case. I want him to know there’s at least one resident of Curiosity he hasn’t managed to fool.
As the mayor finishes his speech, the people around me cheer louder than ever, and another draconic fire display lights up the sky, bathing the whole crowd in a red-orange glow. Under normal circumstances, I might find it beautiful, but tonight I’m on the job. There’s no time to enjoy the pageantry.
I strain to see over the reveling crowd and catch sight of the mayor making his way off the podium and into the crowd, greeting Curiosity’s citizens one by one. A handshake here, a smiling selfie there. This handsome bastard sure has this town fooled.
I have to hand it to him, he’s good. He knows exactly what to say, exactly how to pose, and exactly how to greet each person and creature he comes across. And with just enough interest to make them feel special but not so much that it seems forced.
He’s obviously put a lot of time and energy into this polished routine, and I can see why people fall for it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d be charmed, too.
But I do know better. And every time I find myself falling for his suave persona, I remind myself it’s all just an act. He’s a liar underneath, I know it. I just have to find proof to back it up.
“Mayor Wendall!” I hear a familiar voice call from just in front of me. “Picture for the paper?”
When I look up, I see it’s Eddie, waving at the mayor with Mark, the paper’s photographer, in tow. Mayor Wendall looks up with an award-winning smile before posing with a placard of himself, graciously provided by a doting member of the crowd.
I decide I’ve seen more than enough, and instead of sticking around, I leave the celebrations early, picking my way through the throng of residents gathered outside the town hall for the party, one I’m sure will go well into the night.
With my hands thrust dejectedly into my pockets, I make my way through the cobblestone streets toward my apartment, happy to get away from the crowds fawning over their beloved mayor.
I’m surprised the next day when Eddie calls me at home, telling me he wants to see me in his office again. I half assume that my suspension is going to turn into a full firing, but I go in anyway to see what he wants.
“Charlotte,” he tells me when I arrive. “I’m going to put you on a special project. You might not like it, but I guarantee you it’s the best thing for you and for the paper right now.”
I groan, ready for another one of Fred’s fluff piece tag-along assignments. I swear if I have to interview one more boring resident about the lint in their belly button or whatever, I’m going to go crazy. As it turns out, that’s not what Eddie has in mind.
“Your favorite mayor has been reelected!” he tells me, a little too smugly for my liking. “And I have just the assignment for you to make amends. You’ve caused a lot of trouble over the last month, and I think you need to make it up to me, to Mayor Wendall, and to our readership. So you’re going to spend time and profile the real Mayor Mason Wendall, rather than writing fabricated stories about scandals that have no basis.”
“Eddie,” I say, not liking where this is going. “Come on, that’s cruel and unusual punishment.”
The faun gives me a warning look, one that cuts through his usual friendly demeanor.
“You’re already on probation,” he tells me sternly. “So I wouldn’t argue if I were you. This is just about the only way I can think of for you to redeem yourself. I don’t want to fire you, Charlotte, but you need to know how close I’m getting. If you want to keep this job, you’ll do the piece.”
Everything in me is fighting the thought of writing up some fake fangirl article on the Mayor. In fact, it pretty much goes against everything I stand for. If Eddie has been fooled by Mayor Wendall, or worse, paid off, then all I’ll be doing by writing this profile is playing into the mayor’s corrupt schemes.
On the other hand, I can’t afford to lose this job. It’s not easy to find a steady gig in journalism these days, especially given the lingering rumors that Derek put into motion back in Chicago. If I give up the Herald, my career is as good as over.
“What will it entail?” I ask, trying to weigh up my options.
Eddie seems relieved I’m showing some interest. “You’ll be shadowing the mayor, learning everything about him and his job. Wherever he goes, you go, and you write about it. Impartially,” he adds with emphasis.
I mull it over. This might not be such a bad thing after all, I decide. If I get unfettered access to the Mayor, I might just be able to catch him in the act of doing something dodgy. And then I’ll impartially report that with the proof I’ve been looking for all along.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder why I didn’t suggest this kind of assignment myself. It could be exactly what I need to bring the mayor down. My ethics won’t be compromised, I’ll get to keep my job, and who knows? I might finally save my career from the damage done back at the Tribune.
“Alright,” I agree with a level of enthusiasm that seems to shock Eddie.
“Good,” he says once he’s recovered. “But remember, you’re an impartial observer. This isn’t an exposé, okay? You just report what you see.”
I grin in response. “You got it, Eddie. You can trust me.”
Eddie grumbles something in return, but I don’t hear him. I’m already heading back to my desk, eager to get started.