The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,90
“Are you a fourteen-year-old girl?”
He tosses a plastic-wrapped fortune cookie at me, and it bounces off my boob. He shrugs, looking all innocent. “Oops.”
I roll my eyes, and can’t help but grin. “Town halls—we need some in swing states.”
“Hmmm, quick question,” Maxim says around the fortune cookie he popped in his mouth. “Will Thomas Jefferson be there? Wasn’t he the last person who cared about a town hall?”
“Maxim, we need a way for you to connect with people and answer their questions,” Kimba says. “Especially since you’ve never worked in government and you’re so young.”
“With so many people talking about my age, when they ask how old I am, I now say I’ll be forty my next birthday.”
“You’re on fire tonight, huh?” I ask.
His glance caresses each part of my face. I stretch my eyes to let him know he’s doing that thing again where he looks like he’s in love with me. He drops his gaze, grinning and picking up his phone.
My phone beeps a notification a few minutes later when we’re still listing reasons Maxim should do these town halls. Even with his changed contact name, I still nearly break a nail diving for the phone before anyone sees it.
King: I reaaaally need it to be Tuesday soon.
Me: We’re doing so well. Just hang in there.
King: You don’t tell a guy with blue balls to ‘hang in there.’
I snicker and glance up to find Glenn looking at me quizzically. “What’s so funny, Nix?” he asks with a grin.
The smile on Maxim’s face freezes and shatters like ice.
Oh, shit.
“I, nothing. I’m fine.” I pull the elastic band from my hair and then scoop my hair right back up into a ponytail. I don’t know what to do with my hands, and I don’t know why Glenn called me Nix. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if anyone other than Maxim called me Nix, but no one ever does. “Um, so, town halls?”
Maxim’s still staring at Glenn, who is oblivious, chatting with Polly, our deputy scheduler, about possible locations. Maxim still semi-glares at Glenn for another few seconds.
“I’m not saying we don’t connect with voters and give them a chance to ask questions,” Maxim says, “I’m saying I think we need to freshen the concept and make it more consistent with my brand, which is young, progressive, innovative. The words ‘town hall’ are about as innovative as running water.”
“What did you have in mind?” Glenn asks. Maxim still has the heat of a thousand suns in his eyes when he turns them on Glenn, but no one else seems to notice.
“What about pop-ups?” I ask. “Like policy pop-ups.”
“I love that.” Maxim proffers his fist for a bump across the table, very buddy buddy when only weeks ago we slept together every night and ate breakfast in bed each morning. “And if we’re strategic about it, we could do a bus from stop to stop. I offset every time I fly, and make sure I’m carbon neutral, but that’s fine print. The average voter will just see me jetting all over the country in a private plane and wonder how it squares with my stance on climate change. I mean, I have to fly a lot, but whenever we can minimize, I think we should.”
“I love the bus idea,” Kimba says. “That feels kinda old school, but also greener than the plane. Though I promise you I’m not riding a bus all the way to Cali, so you can forget that right now, Mr. Candidate.”
Maxim chuckles along with the rest of the team. We hash out a few more things and have some preliminary discussions about the first democratic debate in June. Maxim’s at a disadvantage because he’s an independent, so he doesn’t get the visibility in the televised debates the Dems and Republicans sponsor. Fortunately, Maxim’s name is on everyone’s lips, and he has invitations from all the morning shows, late-night shows, political shows—you name it, and they want Maxim. Our strategy is to flip the disadvantage to a plus because while their stages are crowded with ten to fifteen candidates competing for mic time and tearing each other down in advance of the nomination, Maxim has platforms to himself with plenty of opportunity to articulate his vison uncontested, and usually in a less formal setting, which suits him best.
Once the meeting breaks, Kimba and I start packing up and preparing to leave for our apartment. It’s almost been like college again, rooming together, but without the ramen