Page 33 of Reptile Dysfunction
“More flattery,” Mason says with a wink. I swear the snakes on his head are blushing. “You know, I was about to make my afternoon rounds. Would you like to join?”
Excitement grips me at the proposal. Maybe it’s the opportunity to snoop into a good story, I’m not sure, but I’m elated to stay at his side a little bit longer. We head out together, walking down the sidewalk and pausing every few steps for Mason to check in with everyone we pass by.
“Good morning, Mr. Mayor!” Mrs. Murphy calls. She skitters over, a tiny woven basket clutched in her hands. “I’ve just picked the most plump and delicious berries this morning. Would you care to try one?”
Mason’s snakes pop up at full attention. “Alright, alright, point made,” he chuckles. He picks a handful of berries and gently hands one to each snake. It’s a strangely adorable sight.
“Oh, Mrs. Murphy? I was wondering if you had any more information about your stolen flamingo.”
“Stolen?” Mason asks. “Are we treating this as a crime now?”
“Oh, goodness, no,” Mrs. Murphy replies quickly. “It turns out my dear husband had a bit too much toadstool cider last night and ended up enchanting the flamingo by accident. You might find the little guy at the pond looking for shrimp.”
My mood deflates at the news. There goes my hard-hitting criminal investigation. Again.
“I’ll make sure Beast and Animal Control are made aware. We’ll find a proper home for him, with plenty of shrimp to eat.”
Mrs. Murphy gives Mason a grateful pat on the leg and continues on her walk.
“You seem disappointed,” Mason observes.
“Huh? Oh. Well, it’s just, I was covering that story. And kind of hoping for some huge underground lawn decoration mafia I could bust. But I guess this is a good ending, too.”
Mason chuckles. “You never quit looking for the next big story, do you?”
I shrug my shoulders and smirk. “What can I say? I like my job. It’s tough, and sometimes I end up following a bad lead. Or even one that doesn’t exist in the first place.”
Mason looks down at me knowingly.
“But when I do find a big story and manage to break it, it feels incredible. Like I’m actually doing something to make the world a better place.”
We walk a little bit longer until we stop at the town hall. Mason is strangely quiet until we reach the doors.
“I know exactly how you feel,” he finally says. “Being mayor can be tedious, sometimes thankless work. But when I see my neighbors smiling, enjoying their lives carefree and safe? It makes everything completely worthwhile.” He opens the door and gestures for me to follow. “I’d love to continue this conversation, if you have the time.”
“Plenty,” I reply. We go back to his office, Deborah looking none too pleased to see me, and finish our coffees in his office. The conversation picks back up and keeps going quite naturally until the topic of my firing in Chicago comes up.
“It’s like, I did everything right. You know?” I ask.
Mason is sitting back in his chair, hands clasped, giving me his full attention.
“Maybe dating my editor was a bad decision, but he was so charming. And I thought we really had something between us. The way he just threw me away like that, my whole life, like it was a crumpled piece of trash to him. It still stings.”
I don’t know why I’m dumping all of this on Mason, or why I think he’d care. But he seems to, regardless.
“I guess I was just worried that if I didn’t make a big name for myself immediately, I’d get tossed aside again.” I let out a dark laugh and rest my face in my hand. “And look how that turned out. I don’t know, maybe I’m just not cut out for this after all.”
Mason stands and walks to me, gently taking my hands in his and looking down at me with so much concern.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re an amazing reporter.”
My heartbeat picks up, ringing loud in my ears. His hands are so smooth, his eyes so kind.
“The world needs reporters like you. Don’t give up.”
I swallow hard. There’s a feeling of pressure building in my throat. I stand up and grip his hands tight.
“And I think you’re a pretty great mayor,” I reply. Just a hint of a blush spreads on his cheeks, and I’m completely taken in. He’s handsome, I can’t pretend I don’t think so. Maybe this is unprofessional. Maybe I’m making yet another mistake. But I think I want to be with this man.