Chapter 95
I don’t have any problem with my previous life as a homemaker. I worked hard to provide a comfortable environment for my husband and my daughters. Yes, I’d always aspired to more, but being a housewife, in general is not something to be ashamed of.
The way this reporter is turning her nose up at me, saying the term with such distain, really gets under my skin, even more so than the dirty looks and scornful glances of the other reporters.
“I was a housewife,” I say, attempting to be calm even with my rising annoyance. “Now I am a reporter for Harbinger News Company.”
The woman snorts. “What did they need their floors vacuumed? Their lunches packed?”
A few of the people around her start snickering.
“Good one, Jessica,” someone whispers.
The woman – Jessica – smirks at the praise.
“I’m not sure how things are run at your companies,” I say. “But at Harbinger, they don’t need their mothers to come to work. If there is someone at your office, doing that for you, maybe you should check to see you work at a news organization and not a daycare.”
Jessica pales. “You’re just a big of a bitch as Amber said you were.”
She’s friends with Amber? Why am I not surprised? They seem to have gone to the same shitty finishing school, with terrible manners like this.
“From you and Amber, I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.
Around us, the other reporters look at me in a new light. They still aren’t kind, but their distain seems to have hedged somewhat. Maybe they are realizing I’m not someone they can boss around. I’m not going to go crying to Hugo or anyone else.
I’ve earned my place here, and I’m going to fight anyone who tries to take it away from me.
Jessica, embarrassed, turns around and doesn’t look behind her again.
Not long after, the mayor takes the stage to a polite round of applause. It probably would have been louder if he brought his dog. Unfortunately, there’s no dog this time. Just him.
No one is really listening to him talk as he drones on and on about the city and how pleased he is for this large turnout. Everyone seems to be waiting, as if holding their breath, for Miles to appear.
Finally, the mayor begins his actual introduction.
“A man who needs no introduction,” begins his ten minute long speech doing just that.
Most of the things he says, I already knew. Miles is the youngest Representative, as well as the youngest person to ever run for president, which is only possible thanks to the recent change lowering the age limit for candidates.
Miles has been fairly open about his political career and life with the public, so even the childhood story the mayor shares, of meeting Miles for the first time at a cookout isn’t anything new. At the cookout, to everyone’s surprise, Miles manned the grill himself, and it all turned out excellent.
Anything Miles sets his mind to, he excels at. I know that first hand.
The only thing that surprises me, is when the mayor says, “We’re all watching his love life with great interest. Whoever he ends up settling down with is going to be one hell of a woman.”
What does he mean by that? Does Miles have other prospects?
My heart races and I hate it. I force it to slow. What Miles and I share is strictly sexual. It doesn’t matter to me if he has another lover, or ten, so long as none of them think he’s being monogamous.
Except it does matter. I hate that it does, but it does.
I don’t like thinking of Miles with anyone but me.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the mayor winds down his speech. I checked out for a while, lost in my own thoughts, but I return to the moment now.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor says. He holds his arm out to the side. “Your future president and current representative, Miles Hamilton.”
The arena bursts into applause so loud, it surprises me. Looking around, for the first time, I can see just how full this arena really is. Even since I looked before. It might actually be full. That seems impossible, but the cheers speak for themselves. The place is booming.
When Miles actually appears, walking onto the stage, the noise gets even louder.
Miles, wearing a bright smile, waves at the arena before shaking the mayor’s hand. When he reaches the podium, he laughs and says, “Wow. Thank you so much.”
The crowd continues clapping and cheering. It’s a good long while before Miles can actually begin speaking.
If it was me, I would be so nervous I would undoubtedly mess up every other word. Miles, however, is confidence incarnate on the stage. He even panders to the crowd.
“What a great group here tonight,” he says. “Thank you so much for sharing this moment with me.”
The crowd loses it again. They can’t seem to get enough of his laugh and his smile.
Honestly, I can relate to that.
“Alright, everyone, at least let me talk to you for a bit…” he says, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. They finally listen, softening.
Miles gives his speech in earnest, making points about his policies and the changes he hopes to achieve with his presidential term. He cracks a few jokes here and there, but the tone is mostly serious. It’s also uplifting and full of hope.
“I’ve seen you suffering,” Miles says. “It’s time for that to change.”
He’s a very good speaker, which I already knew, but it’s wonderful to see so many others realizing it for the first time. Even the other reporters around me are entirely entranced with him, staring with wide starry eyes.
He has that way with people.
When he finishes his speech, the crowd roars again. People start chanting his name, “Ham-il-ton. Ham-il-ton!”
Miles takes it all in stride, waving and saying, “Thank you,” again and again. “Really, thank you.”
“Where the hell did this guy come from?” whispers one of the reporters near me.
“He’s Senator Hamilton’s son,” whispers another.
“He’s so good at this.”
“He was basically born for this.”
“I wrote him off before,” says one. “But seeing him now… Maybe I reacted too quickly.”
“He’s only twenty-five,” someone says.
“He’s more charismatic than his father.”
Miles backs up from the podium to step around it and more fully wave to the crowd.
His eyes searching, he spots me. I have no idea how. With the way he’s lit, the lights should be shining right in his eyes. And with the sheer number of people here, even if he could see past the lights, we should all look like indiscernible blobs.
Yet still, his focus zeros in on me.
His smile softens and my heart melts. God, I wish he could look at me like that every day. I’d be totally sustained just from that look. I wouldn’t need to eat or sleep or breathe. With that one look, I would be living each day to the fullest.
I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
Not even when he lifts his hand to his mouth and blows a kiss right at me.
