Page 157 of Governor

Nope.

Kevin Markos has blond hair just a little too perfect, and eyes so blue that I can’t help but wonder if the color is due more to contacts than DNA. He dances around a few bland pleasantries and introduces me to the public before he dives into the deep end.

After recounting the basics of what happened at the school, and showing some B-roll footage from local stations of the aftermath, including a shot of Carter and I at the press conference, he pounces.

“Some people might say this was a publicity stunt to help your gubernatorial campaign, Senator Taylor.”

Remember, this islive.

I glare at him, unable to disguise my disgust at his question. I don’t pull any punches or tone back my sharp anger. I want to deck the guy. He’s lucky I’m not putting hands on him, but I want people to understand how ludicrous this asshat is, and what a stupid fucking network he shills for.

Howdarethey question Carter! I don’t give a shit what they say about me, but I willnotstand for anyone disparaging Carter or his motives and actions.

“Yes, orchestrating a violent domestic dispute in a school, by a man with a firearm, getting an armed school resource officer and three others killed, and then ordering my best friend to disobey law enforcement and run into a live-fire situation and riskdying, all for our campaign—that was averycunning plan, wasn’t it?”

He starts to stammer a reply but I cut him off, steamroll him in Carter fashion, my anger blowing hotter, into a full, rolling boil.

“I don’t know where you get your ideas, but Carter Wilson isn’t just my campaign manager. He is my best friend. We consider each otherbrothers. I wouldneverdo something so stupid and selfish as ask him to risk his safety—much less hislife—for a publicity stunt. I wouldneverendangeranyone’ssafety, or their lives. Iseriouslywonder about your lack of ethics if you are honestly asking me an outrageously and blatantly stupid question like that and mean it literally and not as some really lame attempt at sarcasm.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

I keep going. “In case you weren’t aware, Carter is former military, a decorated combat veteran, and was awarded a Purple Heart and medical discharge for injuries he received from a car bomb in the line of duty. Heliterallythrew himself over three wounded men in an attempt to protect them from further injury and nearly died as a result. Tell me, are those the actions of a man interested in publicity?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Youdidmean it, Kevin. Don’t lie and say otherwise. Attack my policy positions, my experience, my politics. Questionmymotives, my methods—hell, even make fun of me personally, if you want. But don’t youdareinsinuate I wouldeverput someone,especiallymy best friend, in harm’s way over a publicity stunt. Maybeyoumight do that, because everyone knows what publicity whores you and your network are, butIhave a conscience. You owe that man an apology for impugning his character. He served our country with honor and distinction and nearly died as a result. He risked his life in a situation he didn’t have to in an attempt to save lives. You also have insulted the other victims of this, by your ludicrous statement. What, they volunteered to die to help me get elected? Is that what you’re saying? What’syourmilitary service record look like, huh?”

It’s tempting to stand, rip off the mic and IFB I’m wearing, and storm off in a flounce that will lead broadcasts on all the other networks.

But I don’t.

Because I’m a professional, and because I know Carter’s standing right there, not twenty feet away, his stoic, stony mask in place, his arms crossed over his chest, and creating his own gravity, like a black hole.

I also know Carter would rip me a new one if I storm off.

Nothing else will happen, though, unless or until Kevin Markos apologizes. I’ll keep circling back to that point until he does. Carter might punish me for it later, and I’ll unapologetically accept every cane stroke he gives me.

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 agood boyfor 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.