Page 29 of Small Sacrifices

The room next to the elevators has been set up as an improvised meeting room.

When Reid reaches it, it's already milling with way more people than should be in there.

To stay out of the chaos, Reid loiters just outside the door.

One of the security officers stationed by the door nods in an amused salute.

Even though Mr. Wright told him to take dress shirts, the dress code for this trip seems to be quite casual on the whole.

When Reid catches a glimpse of the governor from the doorframe, he is wearing a soft-looking wool sweater.

Even the officers have ditched their Men in Black suits and are wearing sweaters and sport coats. It's strange to look at.

He wants to ask the officer if his profiles were useful. But he gets the feeling that wouldn't be very professional. He doesn't want anyone to think he's fishing for compliments.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a movement.

It's Everett, leaving a room at the very end of the corridor.

The sweater he's wearing is a dark emerald color, strangely vibrant in the dim light.

Reid tells himself that's the reason he keeps looking until Everett is finished locking up—because apparently, they've found the last hotel in the country that still uses actual keys—and turns around.

It's the color. Vibrancy attracts attention. That's all.

He looks away as Everett approaches. Everett, likewise, doesn't pay him any mind as he walks past and weaves into the room.

His arrival stirs up a commotion. "Finally!" the governor's disgruntled voice rings out. "We'll be leaving momentarily—don't bother sitting down."

Reid's mind paints a picture of Everett getting ready to sit down, his reportedly spectacular butt hovering in the air.

It's not as amusing as Reid wishes it would be.

Quite the opposite—it has the unfortunate side effect of making him think about Everett's backside.

That was not something he was expecting to do today.

Until now, he had forgotten the awkward exchange with Marisol. He might have had the chance to confirm her claims, but he doesn't usually scrutinize people's posteriors. Why is he thinking about it now, and at work, no less? It's unprofessional.

People file out of the room. And before Reid has the time to decide where in the throng he should join, Mr. Wright grabs his arm and drags him along.

"Where have you been?" he hisses.

"Just outside the room." Should he have gone in?

"I didn't see you on the plane, and I didn't see you in the car either. Where did you run off to?"

Ah. He probably should have expected that.

"Mr. Swayne requested I join him," Reid explains after a deep breath. "He wanted to know more about the parents."

"So did the governor! Why weren't you there when I was briefing him?"

"I didn't know I was needed. The itinerary you sent me states that the first event for me to attend is the mediation meeting," Reid says.

He does not say that the profiles he slaved over for so long that he had half a breakdown in front of the governor's sons contain all the information that Mr. Wright should have needed for such a briefing. Did he even read them?

They enter the elevator and while everyone presses together way too tightly, Reid can feel Mr. Wright quietly fuming next to him.

At least he let go of his arm. But then they leave the elevator and apparently, what little distance that puts between people is enough for Mr. Wright to continue the conversation.

"Why didn't you check in with me?" he demands. His deep voice is unsuited for whispering. He's still loud enough for anyone around them to hear him.

Reid clenches his jaw. "I didn't know I needed to."

This isn't his fault, he's pretty sure. How was he supposed to know if Mr. Wright didn't tell him?

Never mind the fact that Mr. Wright made the decisions that resulted in Reid having all the relevant information.

If there is anything important that he truly didn't know, then he didn't read the profiles.

"Well. You'll drive with us on the way there."

Dread pools in Reid's stomach when they reach the car, and the governor and Everett are already sitting in there.

Great. Just what he needs when he's already self-conscious about how he's acting around Everett—having to interact with him in front of the two people most likely to find something wrong with how he does it.

Everett's wide-eyed surprise doesn't help either.

An impatient push from behind sends Reid stumbling as he enters the vehicle.

He lurches forward and suddenly finds himself face-to-face with the governor.

Oh God, no. Reid throws himself back into the seat he meant to occupy, cheeks flaming and heart racing.

While a misplaced smile at Everett is a major faux pas, nearly falling into the governor's lap is met with amused chuckles.

Reid hopes the laughter means they're not upset with him.

He takes a deep breath and starts twisting his ring nervously.

The drive isn't too bad. Everett ignores him. As does the governor, for the most part. Even though Reid takes care to remain alert throughout the entire ride, he isn't needed for anything. Most of the time, they spend jokingly complaining that the hotel they’re staying in really is so far from the city center and that it isn’t big enough to house all the necessary security measures and personnel for a gubernatorial visit.

"And the journalists, too." Governor Mackenzie massages his eyebrows.

"At least the ones we've seen so far have had the sense to stay away from me.

But I can't imagine it's gonna stay that way.

We'll need to pay close attention to that.

Holland?" One of the PPOs in the front seat grunts.

"Holland, please find out what rooms the journalists are staying in.

I hope they're not too close." Holland grunts again.

"Right," the governor says and turns his attention to Reid. "First field trip?"

Reid nods. Mackenzie grimaces.

"Yeah, that can be a lot. Especially in these circumstances. But you're not public-facing, right?"

Reid shakes his head. Mackenzie smiles.

"Right. Then don't start any conversations.

Respond when spoken to. Express all the empathy you can and then some.

But don't apologize. Don't speak on my behalf.

Direct them towards me if necessary. This whole thing will be shitty enough without someone accidentally putting words in my mouth.

" He pauses for a moment. "If you're not public-facing, why are you here? "

Good question. It's right up there with "What the hell is up with Everett?" and "How do you make Conservatives care about the climate crisis when so many of them believe the end is nigh?" He looks to Mr. Wright for help, but the man just shrugs.

"I was the one to first contact all of them.

" It's likely best to say as little as possible.

Maybe Reid's just being arrogant about this, but there is a good chance that too much of the truth would make Mr. Wright look incompetent, or at least unprepared.

He doesn't want to make things worse for himself.

"But then you are public-facing." Governor Mackenzie doesn't look confused, so much as amused. Reid still goes hot all over.

"I understood it as a research assignment," he says carefully.

With a raised eyebrow, Mackenzie looks over to Mr. Wright. Mr. Wright shrugs. Again.

"Boy's gotta learn some time," he drawls.

It's a good thing that his ring is so sturdy, because otherwise, Reid would be bending it out of shape right now. Boy. There's that word again. Nice to know his superior sees him as a competent adult.

"Too right," Governor Mackenzie says. "Trevon is excellent at what he does. If you pay attention, you’ll learn everything you need to know. He got me as far as the State Capitol. Imagine how far he might get you if you apply yourself."

Reid can't help it when his gaze flits over to Everett to check his reaction. They haven't looked at each other throughout the entire journey. Still, Everett meets his eyes—and then rolls his own. The interaction only lasts a split second, but it helps him through the rest of the ride.

Beyond the car windows, small, manufactured homes with dirt yards make way for large, limewashed houses with manicured lawns.

The closer they get to the city center, the older and the more ornate the buildings get.

Little statues of lions and gargoyles protect beautiful wrought iron fences.

Keep out, they say. We don’t want you here. Reid can feel it in his bones.

When they arrive at City Hall, it's already incredibly busy.

People are loitering behind the barricades blocking off the road.

Some of them look curious, but some of them are holding protest signs.

"ISN'T IT ENOUGH TO POISON THEIR MINDS?" one of them says.

"NO MORE PLATITUDES," demands another. Personally, Reid agrees with the second one.

But that is the point of the mediation, is it not?

Now that he thinks of it, he's grateful to have been invited along. This way, he can hear the governor's answers with his own ears, assuage his doubts. And then afterwards, he can feel guilty for ever having doubted the man. It's a convenient arrangement.

The protesters disappear out of sight as they drive into the parking lot behind the building.

Reid is momentarily confused. What little he saw of the facade made it seem quite majestic.

Columns and white-washed walls gave the impression that the thing may even be a few hundred years old.

The back, however, looks very different.

Small windows are set deeply into thickly insulated stucco walls.

They're sparse and unevenly placed in a way that leaves the impression that every expense was spared where people can’t see it.