by Pamela Yaye
Not long after this poignant moment, a series of events made moving away and taking a break from law an attractive idea. She posted her candidacy just days shy of the cutoff for nominees, hired her godfather’s best friend’s grandson as her campaign manager and then silently and strategically began building her base, her funders and the focus of her campaign.
The results had come in just one week ago. Due to their hard work and her godmother’s considerably liberal social circle, she’d secured the highest number of signatures and therefore the Democratic nomination for the mayoral race. Her very first thought after this confirmation? That she and Niko Drake would be squaring off once again. With even higher stakes this time.
A ringing cell phone brought her out of her musings. Monique looked at the caller ID and forced a smile into her voice. The woman on the other end of the line was known as a busybody who seemed to know, or think she knew, a little something about everybody in town. But she also owned the most popular salon, one that boasted nail care, facials, lash extensions and massages along with hair treatment, and one that was visited by women of all classes and colors. Joy DeWitt’s active participation in her campaign could help Monique swing the female vote to her favor, and when it came to taking away women voters from Niko Drake’s side, Monique knew that she’d need all the help she could get.
“Good morning, Joy,” she answered, placing the call on speakerphone. “Are we all set for my visit?”
“My girls passed out flyers all last night, and with our offering twenty percent off all services except hair appointments, I expect the shop will be full all day.”
“That sounds great. I really appreciate your help.”
“You’re welcome,” Joy responded before lowering her voice and adding, “Helping you beat Niko Drake will be my pleasure.”
The two chatted a few more moments and then Monique hung up the phone. She thought about the story that Joy had shared about why she detested the Drakes. She had given strong consideration as to whether or not she should have someone with such animosity as a visible supporter. At the end of the day, it came down to this fact: stopping short of something illegal, the ends justified the means.
After a last look in the walk-in closet’s full-length mirror, Monique grabbed her oversize bag and set of keys and was out the door. She pointed the remote lock toward her newly leased luxury hybrid sedan and ignored the slight drizzle of rain as she headed toward the center of town. Ten minutes and she was there, having to park down the block for the amount of cars already lining the street, cars of customers who were no doubt in Joy’s shop, enjoying the catered-in breakfast burritos, Danishes, juice and tea that had been provided and waiting to hear what Monique had to say.
“Let’s do this, girl,” she mumbled, encouraging herself as she locked her car, popped open her umbrella and began the short walk to the salon. “You’ve beaten Mr. Niko Drake once before. Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Chapter 2
Niko left the men laughing as he exited the chair from his weekly haircut at the barbershop. That he’d given up his personal in-home treatment in favor of this public establishment had proved a good political move. Roy wasn’t as good with a pair of clippers and scissors as the barber who regularly came to the Drake estate and groomed all the men, but the camaraderie he’d established with Roy’s regulars, along with the votes he’d likely garnered as a result, was worth a temporary trade-off from being pampered inside the Drake estate walls. After leaving a generous tip and a supply of promotional campaign cards, he walked to his sports car and, after another stop, made quick work of the few blocks that separated the barbershop and the beauty salon that he also visited weekly, a shop co-owned by an ex-girlfriend and her mother. Later, when the weather warmed, he’d do more walking, but on a cool and damp day like today, he was glad not to have to.
He neared Joy’s House of Style and immediately noted more cars than usual. “Hmm, wonder what’s going on here?” he pondered aloud, looking for a close parking space and finding none. The word has probably gotten out that I show up most Saturdays, he thought with a wry smirk. No better marketing than word of mouth. He looked in the backseat and wished he’d bought more than the two dozen roses he’d picked up on the way here, a practice he’d begun during his first visit, when a vendor selling flowers had come into the shop. He’d bought the lot and given them out to every woman present. So as not to be seen as chauvinistic or pandering toward these women, he’d coined a phrase. “Women are like flowers,” he’d say as he shared them. “There’s more to you than just the bloom.”
Two steps into the shop and three things assailed him: the chatter of what sounded like dozens of women, the smell of food and a nearly life-size poster—okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit but...wow—of his latest mayoral rival. Below the image of a smiling Monique Slater wearing a conservative black suit and a pleasant smile against a backdrop of law books and the American flag were the words New Mayor, New Vision, New Day. He’d barely had time to drink in the changes to the lobby when he heard applause coming from the back of the shop.
“Good morning, Niko!”
So caught up was he in all of these changes, he’d not even noticed the attractive receptionist always ready to flirt. He walked over to where she sat behind the receptionist counter. “Hello! Looks like you guys started the party without me.”
“You’re late, Mr. Mayor,” the receptionist purred, batting stark blue eyes and flipping thick, raven-colored hair over her shoulder. “Someone beat you to us this morning, and if the impression she’s making on our customers is any indication...you just might have a fight on your hands.”
“Oh, really?” Niko leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as he asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s dared to come into my territory and challenge me?”
“I have.”
The unexpected declaration from behind him threw Niko for an unexpected loop. But only temporarily. Within seconds he’d regrouped, turning around and greeting his opponent with a sincere smile.
“Monique Slater,” he said, walking toward her with hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you again.”
Monique’s brow rose. “Is it?” She returned his handshake, firm and assured. Her eyes held a saucy mixture of intelligence and tease. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember our one and only former meeting.” She continued, her voice lowered so that only Niko could hear. “As I remember, things didn’t fare too well for you that day. Come November, I’m planning a similar outcome.”
“I’m sure you are,” Niko smoothly replied, allowing just a hint of bass into his voice. “I, on the other hand, am confident that there will be a very different ending. Though I must admit, your surprise strategy was quite effective, at least with me.” To her arched eyebrow he further explained, “Mo Slater.”
“Ah, yes. I was christened that in law school by a group of lovable jerks determined to make me hard as nails. They said Monique was too sexy, too feminine.”
“You are that,” Niko easily drawled.
Ignoring his comment, she replied, “Mo is friendly, casual, comfortable, a bit no-nonsense.”
“And unisex.”
“Yes.”
A very attractive woman wearing jeans, a silk sweater and five-inch heels rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are!” she said to Monique with a grin.
“Hello, Joy.”
“And with company, I see.” For Niko there was no smile; hadn’t been one since he’d broken up with her daughter, even though he and ex-girlfriend Ashley were on friendly terms. Joy turned back to Monique. “Some of the ladies who’ve offered to volunteer on your campaign wanted to know if you needed help today.”
“That’s very kind of them, but no, not today. Once they call the office, their names and contact information will be entered into our database, and they’ll be assigned to the appropriate committee
or team. I’ll go back and explain myself so that they’re clear.”
Niko turned to the woman conspicuously ignoring him. “Hello, Joy. Didn’t know you were helping the competition.” He smiled. “But I’ll still give you a rose.”
He held one out to her. She refused it.
“Flowers are fine. But breakfast was better.” She turned to Monique. “Mo, where did you get those breakfast burritos? And that sauce that tastes like grape jelly? Amazing!”
“From a caterer who came highly recommended,” Monique responded. “I’m glad everyone enjoyed them.”
“If you ladies will excuse me,” Niko interrupted, not surprised at Joy’s rudeness but a tad chagrined. Out publicly for mere hours and the new candidate was already trying to steal some of his shine. “I’ll be on my way. Monique.” He held out his hand. “I look forward to a fair, friendly, yet hard-fought race.”
“You can count on it,” Monique replied as Joy chuckled.
Niko nodded at both women, then turned the corner into the shop’s main room. Soon, thoughts of what had just occurred were forgotten as he engaged the roomful of women in conversation. His topics shifted along with his personality; he was slightly flirtatious yet professional, down-to-earth yet knowledgeable, highbrow yet practical. Yes, this was a beauty shop, but some of the questions coming at him were intellectual and well thought out while others were simple and straightforward.
“We need more affordable housing,” one woman boasting big plastic rollers said. “Everyone isn’t wealthy like you. Do you have a plan for dealing with us regular folk?”
“What is your name, ma’am?”
“Diane,” she stated with a smile.
“First of all, that is a very good question,” he began after addressing her personally and embracing rather than running from the issue of his wealth. “The fact that my family has been very successful in the area of local real estate puts me in the very unique position of being able to personally help oversee this task. As many of you know, Drake Realty has been around almost as long as this town has been incorporated. We’ve worked hard to present a variety of living options based on consumer needs. As our town has grown and expanded, so has the diversity of its citizens. One of our latest projects was designed with this changing demographic in mind. The Seventh Heaven complex offers competitively priced housing, including condominiums, for our middle-income citizens. Now we’re turning our focus to apartment buildings, for those in the low-to-mid-income range. I can’t guarantee how large a supply we’ll have at this level, but I do know that there will be some opportunity for renters, and those who’d like to buy a lower-priced home will have more variety from which to choose.”
“Monique.” The woman behind Diane looked over Niko’s shoulder. He wasn’t aware she’d come back into the main salon room. “Where do you live?”
“I purchased one of those middle-income condominiums that Niko spoke of,” Monique answered. “In Seventh Heaven. Yet I’m also all too familiar with the myriad of families and working people who can’t afford the homes in my neighborhood, and others for whom a community such as Golden Gates may as well be in Beverly Hills for the likelihood of their living there. In my practice as a defense attorney, I know what poverty and lack of opportunity can do for a neighborhood and to a soul. Paradise Cove is a beautiful part of California’s landscape, and I’m here to ensure that every citizen, from the richest to the poorest, gets the chance to enjoy what you can currently afford, and to provide the resources so you can aim even higher.”
“Ms. Slater is absolutely correct,” Niko countered, using a debate tactic whereby the debater agreed with their opponent only to later use their very words to dismantle them. “The average person can’t afford to live in the gated community my family helped develop. Starting with my grandfather, Walter Drake, we worked our butts off to establish and grow our company and used blood, sweat and tears to establish our brand. I have not nor will I ever either misrepresent who I am and where I come from, nor apologize for the blessings that this hard work has produced. The story of my family, who rose from humble Louisiana country beginnings to the top of the real-estate and architectural industries is one that is well-known to almost everyone with deep roots in Paradise Cove, and one that everyone who is new to our community will undoubtedly hear.” He shot a friendly glance over at Monique and relaxed his stance. “I’m sure that Monique and I don’t want to get into a debate about which of us cares more for all of the citizens of this community. It is clear that we both do. What you’ll have to decide is who’s best equipped to take us to a better future—someone born and raised in the midst of you or someone who’s just arrived.” He looked at his watch. “You ladies are as wonderful and intelligent as you are beautiful, and I’d love to spend more time answering your questions, but duty calls for me to move on to the next appointment. And considering that you were just given breakfast this morning, compliments of my opponent, I can’t see why my office can’t continue the gratuitousness set with these actions by offering everyone in the salon a fifty percent discount on their next salon visit. Just make the appointment with Joy and one of my staff members will be by next week to work out the details for receiving our matching payment.”
The unofficial debate ended with women surrounding both Niko and Monique. He shook hands, signed marketing cards and gave hugs as he surreptitiously made his way to the front door, determined not to be late to the fundraising luncheon that had been organized by his staunchest supporter, his mother, Jennifer Drake. This event was as good an excuse as any for the whole family to get together. Quite frankly, Niko was looking forward to basking in their unwavering love.
“Thank you so much,” he said to one ardent supporter, determined not to let her pass until she’d given him an enthusiastic hug.
“Send your concerns to my office,” he heard from a little ways behind him. Monique was having just as hard a time leaving the packed salon as he was.
Finally they made it out of the crowd and onto the sidewalk.
“I guess that was our official beginning as political rivals,” he said, calmly straightening the tan suit coat that he wore over a black button-down shirt and black jeans.
“I’m surprised you chose to enter into a debate,” Monique responded, falling in beside him in a comfortable stroll toward their cars.
Niko’s laugh was as hearty as it was genuine. “It’s obvious that lone college victory gave you the confidence needed to throw your hat in the ring against me.” He stopped, turned toward her. “But please understand. I’m no longer that inexperienced sophomore trying to make a name for himself in the academic community. I am now a confident, successful businessman with nothing to prove, who knows that hands down I am the perfect choice for mayor of Paradise Cove.”
“Well,” Monique said, reaching her car and pointing the remote to unlock it, “someone who’s confident, successful and perfect surely has nothing to worry about.” She got into her car, started the engine and rolled down the window. “Except for someone who’s not at all intimidated by him. See you on the circuit, Niko,” she finished, with a casual wave of her hand.
“Not so fast.” Lightly grabbing the hand she’d just waved, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a business card. “Let’s keep in touch.”
“Okay.” She pulled her hand from his and took the card.
“Don’t I get one?”
Monique eyed him for a second before reaching into her card case and handing him one.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She maneuvered her car out of the parking space and was gone.
Niko watched her car travel down the street, noting the Slater: Slated for Success and New Mayor, New Vision, New Day stickers that decorated her bumper. He walked the few yards to his own vehicle and got inside, trying to shake the feeling that he’d just been one-upped by Moniqu
e Slater. More than fifteen minutes later, as he pulled up to the entrance to Paradise Cove’s exclusive Golden Gates community, he was still rattled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that the ultraconfident, business-savvy sister had just thrown down the gauntlet. Niko exited his car and walked toward his parents’ front door, feeling more than ready, willing and able to accept Monique’s challenge. The next time he saw her, he had only two more words to say before pulling out all the stops: game on.
Chapter 3
She thought she’d prepared herself, had felt she was ready for being face-to-face and up close and personal with the devilishly handsome Niko Drake. But the truth of the matter was that seeing him in person after so many years had almost taken her breath away, had brought back all of those girlie feelings of the secret college crush she’d had from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him in the auditorium on the day of their debate. A crush that she’d hidden, not only because of her introverted nature and inexperience but also because Niko had barely given her the time of day. Outside of their arguments, he hadn’t shared a word with her and after an obligatory handshake had left the stage without a backward glance.