throw it out the window. The last time Halbert had texted me, months ago, I’d rolled up into a ball on my bed and cried. Now, I felt like punching him in the mouth. My days of running from my enemies were over, so I scrolled to the top of the messages section on my phone where Halbert’s number was listed and pressed the call button, wondering if my nemesis would answer the phone.
“That was quick,” Halbert sneered. “ I had no idea you would fold so easily.”
“I didn’t call to resign, you idiot,” I said. “I think all that black magic is rotting your brain.”
“Then why did you call? Just wanted to hear my voice?”
“I called to tell you to knock it off,” I said. “For someone with the devil on his side, you’re behaving like a desperate loser. I want you to stop bothering me.”
“Or what?” he asked. “What will you do?”
I was on the verge of saying something similar to my remarks in the café—threatening him with some painful retribution involving his limbs being separated from his body, but then I remembered that cell phones could record conversations.
“You don’t think I would be stupid enough to threaten you on the phone on the eve of my press conference?” I asked.
Halbert was silent, and it occurred to me that perhaps he’d hoped for just that situation.
“Goodbye, Halbert,” I said, “I’d tell you to go to hell, but then I’d only be encouraging you.”
After I hung up, I tried my best to calm down and focus on my work. Halbert did not contact me again. A few hours later, I was stuffing my laptop into its bag when I heard my phone ring. I picked up the phone with trepidation, hoping it wasn’t Halbert.
It wasn’t. It was JP, so I pressed the talk button to hear what he had to say.
“Were you planning on inviting me to the press conference?” he asked, without offering so much as a hello. Even through the phone, I could feel his anger.
“Hi, JP.” I said, trying to sound casual. “I believe your newsroom received an advisory from the campaign like every other news outlet.”
“Yes, but were you going to call me?”
“You know, things have been a little busy these last twenty-four hours,” I said. “I guess it slipped my mind.”
“So you have no comment on the video,” he pressed.
“We’ll be commenting at 3 pm today,” I said, trying hard not to show my anger.
“I’m asking if you have anything to say yourself about the video,” he said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “Or about the fact that I saw you leave with that man. I saw him with you again last night at the café.”
Oh, but did I ever have words to say… none of which could ever be uttered on the record. “Any comment from me or this campaign will come at 3 pm. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. I expect I’ll see you shortly.”
I pressed the red button to end the call and closed my eyes.
I’d been so busy trying to find a solution to our debacle that I hadn’t had much time to consider his role in all of this. Was it fair to be angry with JP? Or was JP just doing his job? Had Halbert’s demon provoked Richard? Or had those horrible sentiments been lurking inside him, just waiting to come out? Maybe that’s what evil does; it brings our worst fears and prejudices to the surface, it strips away our ability to silence those voices in favor of patience, or compassion. I’d told William that I couldn’t change a bad man into a good one using my skills, but maybe the devil worked differently. Perhaps he could take a good man and reduce him to his worst impulses.
In the end, I realized, it didn’t matter. During the countless hours I’d spent talking with voters, it was clear that they didn’t care about Richard Lyon. They cared about Levi Barnes. They wanted to see what he would do, whether he would take responsibility, if he would be accountable. If so, they were prepared to move on and not wallow in the scandal.
The press, on the other hand, would prefer the scandal to live on, for more details to emerge and for side players to continue their outrageous behavior. If we could deny the media of any further fuel—steal the oxygen for their fire—then the news cycle would close. The plan was for Richard