But in this one stand that I take, I shall not be moved.
I’ve never seen the guy look so rattled, but I’ll take the win. “My apologies, Senator Taylor. Of-of course I-I didn’t mean I thought you orchestrated this—”
“I’m sure the playback will contradict you, Kevin, but apology accepted.”
He swallows hard. “Now, if w-we can move on, I-I’d like to talk about your education plan…”
And there we go. I risk a glance at Carter. Maybe no one else would notice, but I see the way the left corner of his mouth turns up ever so slightly in a smirk.
I might get a spanking later, but I’ll also get a good boy for standing up to Markos.
Carter’s proud of me.
That’s all I care about.
Chapter Forty-Three
Election Night
Polls close at seven in most of the state, eight in the western Panhandle, but those votes are negligible at best and tend to trend GOP, anyway. We already have solid guesstimates based on existing voter rolls and past voting trends.
I know we can’t just lock ourselves in the hotel room and watch the election returns spin out on our laptops and on TV, but I really don’t want to be around people right now. I’ve hit my limit, and I’m feeling more than a little overwhelmed.
That means I do what I always do—I turn it over to Carter and trust him.
He’s talking to some former GOP bigwig when I catch his eye from across the room. His gaze starts to dip from mine, then darts back and locks on me again as if re-evaluating. He immediately pats the guy on the shoulder, makes his excuse to break away from their conversation, and crosses the room. His gaze never leaves mine until he catches up with me and heads toward the room that everyone has been told was mine.
I wait until he passes me and fall into step behind him. He opens the door, ushering me inside and glancing around behind us before closing the door and locking it.
He holds up a hand to keep me silent and in place as he first walks over to the windows, pulling the curtains securely shut. Then he glances in the closet, in the bathroom, insuring we’re alone.
Only then does he turn to me, hands on his hips.
“Loyalty.”
My knees unhinge and I gratefully drop into the pose as he walks over to stand in front of me. With my head bowed, all I can see are his shoes and the cuffs of his trousers. I want to drop into a full formal bow and nuzzle his feet, but that’s not what’s been asked of me.
Then he kneels in front of me, one hand coming to rest on the back of my head, his nails lightly raking through my hair and scratching my scalp.
My eyes drop closed, a shiver rippling through me as my brain downshifts and falls still. He’s close enough the warmth from his body washes through me, enveloping me.
I can smell him, traces of deodorant, of our body wash—everything he does to keep us connected so my senses are filled with him when we’re not together.
Even the noises of the people out in the other room drift away, leaving me to focus on the sound of his breathing, the rustle of fabric as he shifts position again, now sitting in front of me.
“Breathe, boy,” he whispers, and I do.
I listen to him, because he’s leaned in close, his face next to mine now. It’s all I can do not to press hard against him, nuzzle him, seek comfort from him. I can hear him breathing, slowly, deeply. I match mine to his and it’s not long before the outside world has completely disappeared.
It’s just Him.
He closes the distance between us, pressing his cheek against mine. “It’s almost over, boy, and I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, warm breath caressing my flesh like his words caress my soul. “Win or lose, I’m proud of what you’ve done.”
I don’t know if I’m allowed to speak, so I don’t. I continue to nuzzle him, wishing I could strip and curl up in his lap right now.
How did we get here? To this point? Not only the governor’s race, but here, the two of us?
That very first night in the dorm room, I never suspected how he would come to feel about me.
Never saw myself…here.
I am only here because of him and what he’s accomplished. I was his clay and he molded me in the image he wanted.
I happily complied, because it made him happy.
Don’t think that’s something that doesn’t consume my every spare thought. I will never forget I am where I am, and I am who I am, because of Him. Sure, Susa’s connections helped pave the way, but Susa is lit by her own inner furnace and guided by the light it casts.
I envy her that sometimes.
My inner furnace is stoked by Carter, kept well-tended and burning by him.
Him.
“You may speak,” he says.
“Thank you, Sir. I’m here because of you. And Susa.”
His low chuckle warms me, hardens my cock. His lips trace the shell of my ear. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, boy. You’re the magic sauce. The face, the voice. Panties get wet and drop when you speak.”
He drapes an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in, making me lie on my back, and I willingly go. He tucks my head in his lap and I can look up into his face, where now he appears upside-down.
But that brown gaze of his weighs me down, pins me to the present, keeps me grounded.
He strokes my forehead. “My very good boy. You can do this. Win or lose, you’ve got this. I’ll be right there beside you the whole time, I swear. I won’t leave you alone. Deep breath.”
I take one, hold it, blow it out.
He lets me lie there for a couple of minutes before he pats me on the shoulder. “Sit up.”
All too short a time together, but we can’t risk more. Especially not right now. I sit up, putting our faces at the same height.
He cups my face in his hands and presses his forehead against mine. “I want to kiss you so fucking hard right now, Owen, but I can’t risk someone spotting it.” He’s right—I’ll look like we’ve been making out.
We apparently can’t do subtle when it comes to that. Us kissing—really kissing—always ends up with both of us sporting red and swollen lips, our cheeks pink from stubble rubbing, and our trousers tented from hard cocks.
There is nothing subtle about the way Carter and I kiss.
Frankly, I kind of prefer it like that.
His thumbs gently caress my lips and I kiss them instead.
Then he lightly presses his lips to mine, all too briefly, controlling it and barely controlling himself. “You’ve made me proud, boy. Just a few more hours, regardless, and then the three of us will have time alone together. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He motions for me to stand. I rise, then take his hands and help him up off the floor. He’s tried to hide his pain from me today, but the soft grunt he makes lets me know he’s really hurting and doing a damn good job of hiding it from most everyone else. The campaign has been a grind for him, too. His pain isn’t nearly as bad as it used to be when I first met him, but he’s a man, not a machine. The incident at the school, however, marked the start of a pain cycle for him that he’s having trouble climbing out of. We’ve scaled back our morning runs to shorter, slower walks, doing more gentle reps on machines in our spare bedroom, either in Tampa or in Tallahassee.
He had to go back on one of the anti-anxiety meds he’d been able to discontinue our second year of law school because the nightmares resumed with a frequency and fury that scared even Carter. They’re only just now starting to decrease in frequency and intensity, even a couple of months later.
It’s another reason Susa tries to make sure Carter is with me as many nights as possible, because she knows he does better with me sleeping in bed with him.
He straightens my clothes, and I straighten his, and he pulls me in for a tight, strong hug. “You’re my boy,” he whispers in my ear. “No matter what. Nothing tonight changes that.”
“Yes, Sir.” As he releases me and heads for the door, despite all ou
r hard work, part of me prays I lose tonight.
Because if I do, it means we can go back to being who we were without worrying about the press or rumors.
I know it’s selfish of me, but I’ve never claimed to be perfect.
I’ve only claimed to be His.
* * * *
I awoke that Tuesday morning in the arms of the two people in this world I truly love most, just a guy, an attorney, a lawmaker. Florida Senator Owen Taylor.
A loved and owned boy.
I will eventually go to sleep tonight as Governor-Elect Taylor.
Even before MSNBC and WFLA in Tampa calls the race in my favor, the energy in the suite has amped up, grown electric, frenetic. Everyone’s smiling, including Carter and Susa, and I’m hoping the smile I’ve plastered on my face looks real enough.
But it’s pretty obvious how it’s going to shake out by ten p.m. I have taken enough of a lead over the other candidates that there aren’t enough ballots remaining to be tallied to help them close that gap.
The minority party candidates all call and concede by ten fifteen.
Jack Coffield, the Democrat, concedes at ten thirty-seven, once the last ballots in Miami-Dade are reported. I took the county by ten points, something unheard of.
Only Steven Shallows, the Republican, hangs in there until the guy with the massive electronic whiteboard on MSNBC explains the math and why they’re calling it in my favor at ten fifty-eight.
The phone Carter’s holding rings at ten fifty-nine.
We’re all heading downstairs, a bunch of us crowding into the service elevator at two minutes past eleven. I’ve rolled down my sleeves and donned my jacket. Susa’s straightened my tie with a wink. We’re surrounded by campaign staff, including the FHP officer who will now be one of my constant shadows.
I’ve just lost my freedom.
Ironic, I know.
In the elevator, someone squeezes my right hand, hard, before the doors slide open. I don’t have to look to see it’s Carter, who’s standing directly behind me and to my right. I’m carried forward out of the elevator with the swell of people. There are Hillsborough County deputies awaiting us downstairs and escorting us all to the ballroom’s back entrance. Carter takes his position on my left, Susa on my right and staying just a step behind me as we walk out onto the stage to the crowd’s cheers literally vibrating the building.
I don’t even know what the fuck I’m going to say. I pray Carter prepared something and will shove cards or a cell phone into my hand to read off of before I embarrass the hell out of myself and the people who’ve put their faith and trust in me to fix this state and run it the right way.
I slowly walk along the front of the stage, waving, leaning in and shaking hands, saying thank you a thousand times, it feels like.
Then I catch Carter’s eye and he glances at the podium.
There is his tablet, sitting there, ready.
Waiting.
Of course it is.
Except I turn and walk back to the two of them, then face the crowd. I grab Carter’s and Susa’s hands and march them up there with me, raising our hands together, the only time like this I’ll be able to publicly show everyone the truth, and they can’t even see it despite us standing right there in front of them.
See US.
See these two people.
I love them.
They are my life.
They are the reason I’m here, not any of you.
All that remains unsaid, though, while I stand there listening to the applause and cheers thunder around us, lifting us up.
Carter squeezes my left hand and I look over and smile. He gives me a tiny, slow nod.
My boy, that nod says.
Reading each other’s silent cues, the way we have ever since the beginning.
I finally lower our hands and reluctantly release them. But then I hug Susa, long and hard, and turn and hug Carter.
I don’t risk saying anything, knowing there are cell phones all around us shooting video, not to mention the TV cameras. I cannot risk anyone trying to read my lips.
Carter claps me on the back and releases me and I finally turn to the podium, aware that, behind me, Carter has held out his right arm to Susa and she’s stepped across the void to tuck herself against his side.
Of course she has. She’s his wife and has every right to stand there with him.
Out of the corner of my eye I watch him kiss the top of her head.
I know he’d do it to me, too, if not for the roomful of people who’ve just elected me.
Long-term plan.
I start the ball rolling, don’t fuck up too badly, get re-elected, and then Susa can bring it home during her eight years in office.
Long-term goals. Carter’s plan.
He hasn’t failed us yet, and even Benchley says it’s a good, solid plan. This was the hardest part—convincing an electorate to vote for a third-party candidate. They’ve done it once now, they’ll do it again.
Especially if we don’t fuck it up.
People forget how many Democrats held the high office in our state before a series of GOP governors were elected and fucked it all up. Having a third-party candidate who’s socially liberal and fiscally conservative isn’t actually that much of a stretch.
Overwhelmed, I take a moment to clear my throat and stare out at the crowd. The lights from the cameras make it hard to distinguish any one person from another out there. Behind me on stage are our core campaign staff—Comms, Volunteers, Finances—all of them, and their immediate families. Dad and Katie and their four kids.
I take a deep breath and think about the quiet moment I shared upstairs with Carter.
Loyalty.
The crowd finally quiets, waiting.
“I just got off the phone with Steven Shallows a few minutes ago, and he’s the last of my opponents to concede the race to us.”
If I thought the crowd thundered before, they are positively howling now, deafening. I reach out and tap the home button on Carter’s tablet to unlock it and punch in the familiar code. It’s already queued to my acceptance speech, in a large enough font I can read it without picking it up or having to lean over it or squint.
Carter thinks of everything.
I smile, nodding, not waiting for the crowd to quiet this time, and hoping they settle themselves when I start to speak into the microphone.
“I’d like to congratulate my opponents on their races, and hope that we can all put that past us now and work together for our state. I’m not a governor for any one party—I’m a governor for the great state of Florida, and I represent all of its residents, even if they didn’t vote for me.”
I can tell this speech is going to take a while by how they’re cheering. I let them have this time, because I don’t want to appear ungrateful.
But I’m tired.
Oh, so tired, and I know I can’t go to sleep yet. I also know Carter probably has a whole morning’s worth of TV interviews, state and national, already scheduled for me for tomorrow.
“It’s time to put partisan politics behind us. The time is now for us to put our state first. To put the citizens of our state first. To put its schoolchildren first. To put its environment first. We have a lot of hard work ahead of us, and I’m eager to get busy. We have teachers who should be paid far more than they are, and not just to make sure kids can take tests. They need the freedom to actually educate. I want to pay our teachers what they’re worth, and draw even more of the best teachers to our state to teach our kids. I want Florida to be known as the best state to educate your child in, and the best state to be a teacher in. I want to eliminate all the useless testing and return our focus to educating our children.
“Our kids deserve clean air and clean water. Our health depends on it. Our tourism dollars depend on it. Our wildlife and agriculture and aquaculture depends on it. And I’ve made no secret that I’m coming after pork projects. No more eighty-thousand-dollar office renovations on the taxpayers’ dime. You h
ave spoken loud and clear and sent a message to both major parties that we are done messing around. We are done listening to the same-old same-old, we are done with their excuses as to why things can’t get done, and we are done doing business as usual, with a wink and a nod behind closed doors.
“We have a lot of work to do. We can’t immediately achieve everything we want to do. Changing our education system is going to take time. I want to focus immediately on working with utilities to harden our infrastructure against natural disasters. We can do a lot, but I need every one of you to put pressure on your local lawmakers. I need each and every one of you to get to know your local lawmakers by name. If they walk up to you in a grocery store, I want you to know who they are. I want you to show up at their offices and demand town halls and push them to work with me, with all of us, and not let partisan politics grind us to a halt. I want you to know their voting records and hold them accountable for their actions. Don’t let them get away with business as usual.
“We’ve proven that both parties are imperfect. I’m not saying I’m perfect. I’m not saying I won’t screw up. But I’m saying that you have spoken, and I’m listening. I’ll keep listening. I won’t turn a deaf ear to you just because the conversations are difficult or things I don’t want to hear. But the only way we can move forward is if you make your voices loudly known to everyone who goes to Tallahassee. To everyone sitting in a county commission chamber. To everyone who sits on city commissions and councils, our local school boards, and even down to your HOA boards.
“We all have a voice. We all deserve to be heard. I’m a gun owner. I don’t want to take your guns, but I think we can all agree we don’t want kids getting mowed down at school, and there has to be a better way. The NRA and its foreign dollars are no longer welcomed in our state capitol.”
Of all the points I brought up, that one get the loudest applause, and I twist off the cap from the bottle of water Carter puts in my hand and use the natural pause to take a drink. I let the cheers and applause spin out, which turns into raucous chants of TAY-LOR! TAY-LOR!
Governor Page 34