The last item on the agenda is reallocating $256 thousand of the city's Regency REACH Grant to the Housing Hope Fund project," I announced to the ten city council members seated around the oblong table. I was preparing to announce my final vote before we wrapped and began our weekend. "I voted and signed off on this reallocation to go into effect as of Wednesday. If there are no remarks, let's have a wonderful weekend."
For the first time in our two-hour meeting, there were no remarks. The council members were in agreement with my decision, as my vote was the final one to approve this matter. After a brief silence, I formally adjourned the meeting, expressing my appreciation for their cooperation. As I was leaving, several council members approached me, expressing their support.
"It was an easy decision. We've awarded over $200 thousand in grants to non-profits already. It's time to get the new housing development off the ground," I said, underlining the positive impact of our choice. "This is a significant step for Regency's progress. I'm proud of our collective decision."
Back in my office, I closed the door and sank into my chair, loosening my tie. My eyes wandered to the calendar on my desk. Valentine's Day three days ago. The night with Kennedy replayed in my mind, vivid as ever, and the bouquet I had sent to her boutique two days ago lingered in memory. I hadn't expected her to reach out, yet a part of me hoped she would. Kennedy was a tough cookie, at least on the outside.
But the inside…
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my stubbled chin with the same fingers that had touched her, remembering her scent, her warmth. That night wasn't planned; it hadn't even crossed my mind that it could happen. But it did. And I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Harrison burst into my office like a hurricane, shoving a tablet in my face.
"I'm going to keep this low-key, you say?" he mocked, pointing to an article with a blurry photo of Kennedy and me leaving Bevy's Speakeasy. Bachelor Belafonte and New Woman Sneak Out of Secret Popular Party Spot. He shook his head. "See how your antics are diminishing the respect people have for you? They didn't even call you Mayor Belafonte."
I leaned back, skimming the article without concern. "This is nothing new. Happens every time they catch me on a date."
"And yet it won't help your run for Governor," Harrison said, setting his jaw. "Jameson, man, date someone seriously, or you're going to fuck up your chances."
I groaned. "How does my personal life affect my political career? I'm doing the work of the people. My private life is irrelevant."
"But it's not," he pressed. "Greenbrook voters want to see loyalty, commitment, stability. You can't be bouncing across state lines every week with a new woman and expect it to not matter."
I scoffed. "We had a whole president getting caught in worse scandals, and we're worried about me dating?"
Harrison stared at me, dumbfounded, while I laughed. "Wait until Big JB finds out. It's going to be a shit show."
My cell phone rang, and my father's name flashed.
"Speak of the devil," I muttered.
"Welcome to the shit show," Harrison muttered.
"Dad, what's up?" I answered.
"Apparently, your little community dick," my father barked.
I froze, then narrowed my eyes at Harrison, who was biting back laughter. "Whoa, pause, Dad."
"Don't pause me! You are Mayor Jameson Belafonte, II—not Harry Belafonte. You are the Mayor of Regency, for Christ's sake. And most importantly, you hold the Belafonte name and the legacy of the next Governor. Act like it!"
I sighed. "Dad, you're blowing this out of proportion"
"No, you're not understanding the magnitude! Your frolicking is reckless. Diane, give me the phone back!"
My mother's voice joined in, calm and soothing: "Jameson, honey? You know you can't keep going on like this. Your Dad may not express it well, but he's right. Think of your legacy. You want to be Governor, and you're on track, but it comes with sacrifices."
"I hear you, Mom," I muttered, annoyed at being scolded like a teenager.
"Good," she said softly. "Now, you're still coming down for dinner Sunday, right?"
I nodded. "Of course. But I have work to do before I leave. See you Sunday."
Harrison smirked knowingly. "Something's gotta give, bro."
Later, in Lovey's Bay, Beverly's soft, sultry voice greeted me.
"It's nice of you to give me a bit of your time," she purred, stepping from her bedroom in a white satin robe, the fabric teasingly revealing her long bronzed leg.
"Of course. If I'm in town, I have to see my Beverly," I teased.
"And on a Saturday? I feel special," she whispered. "Turn over for me, baby. Let me relax you a bit more."
I flipped onto my stomach, sinking into the satin pillow. Beverly's legs cradled my hips as her hands massaged my shoulders, the pressure drawing a deep, gratifying moan from me.
"Your shoulders are tighter than normal. Stressing you?" she asked, her thumbs working magic.
"Everything," I mumbled.
"Hmm, I'd think the young lady at my place would've served you well," she teased.
I laughed dryly. "Where'd you hear that?"
"A little birdie," she sang, not missing a beat.
Her hands trailed lower as the robe slipped off, revealing her perfect body. I didn't resist, rolling her hardened nipples between my fingers just as she moaned and positioned herself atop me.
"Mmhmm…even we have to end at some point with your run for Governor coming…" she murmured.
"Is that right?" I asked, leaning to kiss her breast.
"Yes, but until then, the only greater good I'm worried about is this good dick," she whispered, grinding against me.
The dread grew as I neared my parents' beach home. Normally, I'd be excited for my mom's cooking, but after the latest tabloid fiasco, my stomach churned. I longed to use a fake delay to cancel my visit, but a promise is a promise. At least I'd eat well.
Stepping out of my car, Harrison followed, chatting about political updates. He was family to us, like a second son. Inside, the aroma of my mother's cooking eased my nerves. Penelope, our housekeeper, greeted us warmly.
Dinner would have to wait. Big JB had summoned us to the study.
The study smelled of leather and old books, lined with towering shelves. Harrison and I settled into the raisin-colored leather couch while Big JB poured whiskey.
"What's your motive?" he asked finally, studying me with piercing eyes.
"In regards to…?" I tried.
"Don't play coy. Your journey to Governor what's your motive?"
I sighed. "JB, I'm doing everything to support my political duties"
"Your personal life is part of your political life, Jameson! What are you doing to the Belafonte name? Spreading royal seeds?"
"Not what I'm doing," I muttered, embarrassed.
Harrison intervened. "I might have a solution. You met a matchmaker at the Sweethearts Gala. Pairing high-profile men and women. Many end up married."
"Married?!" I exclaimed.
"No, just public, consistent dating. Change the narrative. Show loyalty and commitment," Harrison explained.
I frowned. It was bullshit, controlling even. But I couldn't deny he was right. With Kennedy, maybe…maybe this could work.
I cleared my throat. "So, with this matchmaker, can I suggest someone to be matched with?"