A/N: Hey, guess who's back? A thousand apologies for not posting for the past few months. I needed to take a break over the summer to spend time with my family. Now that fall has arrived, I am back to this story. I didn't want another month to pass without updating. Here we go!
Chapter 76. Why Should White Guys Have All The Fun?
After hurriedly getting dressed in the outfit she helped her mother to select last night, Cena carefully walks through the family room, toward the kitchen, being extra careful not to splash water on her blouse. She is anxious to show Jeffries what she got at the Fun Zone over the weekend.
"Good morning, Jeffries," Cena says quickly, greeting their helper the way her parents taught her to do when she enters a room.
"Good morning, Big-Little. You look adorable this morning," Jeffries says, admiring the little girl's outfit and new hairstyle.
"Thank you," she says, carefully setting a fishbowl onto the granite island top.
"What have you there?"
"We went to the Fun Zone on Saturday and daddy and I won a lot of tickets and he said I could get whatever I want – so I got a fish. She's a betta fish and she's my favorite color. Red," Cena reports without taking a breath.
"Wow — that's a really attractive fish. Does she have a name?" Jeffries asks, flipping his long locs over his left shoulder as he leans forward to examine the fish.
"I'm still thinking about it," Cena replies as she climbs onto her stool. "Daddy said maybe I can get more fish if I learn how to care for this one," she says, watching the fish swim around the compact glass bowl.
"Do you know how to care for a betta?"
"Yes — I Googled it. Mommy said I could," she adds quickly. Her parents have limited the amount of time she can spend on her tablet. "I'm going to explain to daddy tonight — then he'll decide if I can get more fish," she says excitedly.
"I see. Did you enjoy the Fun Zone?"
The eyes she shares with her father sparkle as she begins to tell Jeffries all about the gigantic arcade.
"It was so cool. I had so much fun. Daddy and I got on a lot of rides and played lots of games. Daddy crashed the Go-Kart," she says, giggling at the memory. "Mommy let Jo climb on the rock wall. Jo got on the merry-go-round and spinning teacups — too."
"It sounds like you did have a lot of fun."
"I did. Daddy said he's going to take us again," tapping the glass bowl trying to get the fish's attention.
"That's good. Eat up, Big Little. Remember— you're taking the school bus today."
"My friend Sophie takes the bus — too. I saw her at the Fun Zone. We played video games and got on rides."
"How do you know Sophie?" Jeffries asks as he cuts up the watermelon and cucumbers into bite-sized pieces.
"She went to my summer camp. She likes art — too."
"I see," Jeffries says, tossing sprigs of mint into the bowl with the cucumbers and watermelon.
"Good morning, Jeffries," Olivia says as she, Fitz, and Jolie enter the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grant, Mr. Grant. Good morning, Jolie."
"Hi," Jolie replies with a wave of her hand and toothy grin.
"Good morning, Jeffries," Fitz says, draping his suit jacket over the back of his stool.
"Cee — what is your fish doing in the kitchen?" Her mother asks.
"I wanted to show Jeffries."
"I understand— but you mustn't carry the fishbowl up and down the stairs. I don't want you to fall and hurt yourself. Okay?" Olivia says, reaching in one of the overhead cabinets for Jolie's special cup.
"Yes, mommy," Cena replies, as she continues to stare at the fish swimming around the bowl.
"I'll take her back to your bedroom after breakfast," Jeffries says.
"Thank you, Jeffries," Olivia says, walking over to the refrigerator.
"Are you having breakfast this morning, Mr. Grant?"
"Yes - thank you, Jeffries. Finish your breakfast, Princess. Today's my first day back to work and I don't want to be late," Fitz says, filling his mug with coffee.
"I'm taking the school bus today, daddy. Remember?" Cena replies quickly, hoping her plans have not been changed. She wants to see Sophie on the bus.
"Oh— I forgot," her father replies, pressing a kiss to the top of his daughter's head. "I guess I have to drive alone this morning," winking at his wife.
"Did you speak with Mrs. Handley?" Olivia asks as she reaches into the refrigerator for Jolie's carton of soy milk.
"She knows I'm returning today. It's on the calendar," he says, bringing the mug of coffee to his lips.
"Your breakfast," Jeffries says, setting a bowl of steel-cut oatmeal and a plate of buckwheat toast in front of Fitz, who frowns immediately. He is getting tired of all of Jeffries' healthy meals.
The sounds of the cup crashing to the floor and Olivia's pained groan cause all heads to turn in her direction. Fitz and Jeffries are at her side immediately. Half bent and panting quickly, Olivia grips the refrigerator door handle, bracing herself for another one-two kick.
"Liv — are you all right?" Fitz asks, panic filling his voice.
With eyes tightly shut, Olivia squeezes her husband's hand when she feels the second round of kicks. Her breathing is fast and shallow and beads of sweat dot her forehead.
"Mrs. Grant — would you like to sit down?" Jeffries asks with concern.
"I need a minute," Olivia says, squeezing Fitz' hand tighter.
Cena looks over at her mother with eyes wide and Jolie drops to the floor, flapping her arms up and down as tears stream down her face. She knows something is wrong with her mommy.
"Sit down, Liv," Fitz says, dragging a stool over to the refrigerator.
"Careful, Mrs. Grant — step out of the milk puddle," Jeffries cautions as he and Fitz help Olivia to sit down on the stool.
"Boy — I wasn't expecting that," she says, rubbing the side of her stomach.
"Can I get you something?" Jeffries asks, looking up at the pained expression on her face as he wipes the milk from her feet.
"Liv — are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Babe — get Jo. She's frightened."
"I'm not going to the office today," Fitz says, lifting Jolie from the floor and gently patting her back.
"I'm fine, Fitz. I wasn't expecting such sharp kicks. The babies were stretching and rolling earlier — but not kicking. Besides, Mrs. Handley is expecting you."
"I'll call her —"
"Fitz — go to work. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Staring into his wife's eyes for any sign of concern.
"I'll keep a close eye on her today, Mr. Grant," Jeffries says, squatting down and mopping up the milk from the floor.
"Call me immediately if my wife has another incident. I'll come home right away," Fitz says sternly as he stares directly into Jeffries' eyes.
"I certainly will," Jeffries replies.
"Help me over to the bench, babe - this stool is too high. And — give me Jo - I've spilled her milk and she's upset. Cee — finish your breakfast so you can get to school."
Setting Jolie on her mother's lap, Fitz glances down at his watch.
"I have to get going. I'll call you when I get to the office. Okay?" Pressing a kiss to her lips.
"Go, Fitz."
"Come on, Princess — I'll wait outside with you until the bus arrives."
"Wait — wait, babe. Let me get a picture of you on your first day back to work," Olivia says, grabbing her phone from the table.
"What am I Cee on her first day back to school?"
"Mommy took my picture on the first day of school, daddy."
"Put on your jacket, babe - and smile."
"Smile, daddy," Jolie instructs her father.
"Cee — get in the picture with daddy so I can capture your first day taking the school bus."
Cena sidles up to her father and they both make funny faces at the phone's camera.
"We have to go, Liv. I'll call you later."
"Babe — take a picture of Cee getting on the bus. And make sure you get her face."
"Let's go, Princess."
"Bye, mommy," Cena says, standing on her tip-toes to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Bye, Jo. Bye, Jeffries," Cena says, delivering her farewells before dashing from the kitchen.
"Babe — don't forget your box. It's on the hall table," Olivia calls out to her husband.
When they hear the front door close, Jeffries and Olivia look at each other and smile. They are both thinking the same thing. Olivia grabs her phone and hurries from the kitchen as fast as she can. Jeffries swoops up Jolie and hustles from the kitchen, too. Bowtie trots behind them. They all stand in the living room, looking out the window as Cena climbs onto the yellow school bus for the first time. When she turns and waves to her father, Fitz and Olivia snap her picture at the same time.
"She's getting to be such a big girl. She didn't want us making a fuss about her catching the bus for the first time," Olivia says, rubbing her stomach.
"Are you sure you're all right, Mrs. Grant?" Jeffries asks as they head back to the kitchen.
"I'm fine — really. There just isn't a lot of room in there anymore for two babies."
"So - what can I get you and those soccer players for breakfast?"
"I like when you surprise us," Olivia says, as she settles down onto the bench.
"Cena is so excited about taking the school bus."
"She is and Fitz is a nervous wreck. He's going to follow the bus to the school."
Jeffries looks at her with an arched brow.
"Yup," Olivia says with a smile.
"Cena looks adorable this morning."
"She wanted to wear bubble braids today. I had to watch a tutorial to get it right."
"You nailed it. I love all the colorful hair ties."
"My little girl knows what she wants. It took me forever to get all of those parts straight."
"Cena has a new friend," Jeffries says, glancing at the fish that seems to be looking at him, too.
"We went to the Fun Zone over the weekend. The girls had a wonderful time - we all did. Fitz and Cena won a lot of tickets — she cashed them in for the fish."
"Cena gave me a full report. I think Bowtie might be a little jealous," Jeffries says as he sets the cup of milk in Jolie's hands.
"Cee has such a big heart. She has more than enough love for both pets."
"She is both you and Mr. Grant — through and through."
"Look," Olivia says, smiling proudly as she holds up her phone so Jeffries can see the pictures she took during their family outing. Jeffries smiles at the image of a grinning Fitz and Cena clutching the ribbon of tickets draped around her neck. Olivia swipes her index finger across the screen again to reveal a picture of Jolie sleeping in her father's arms.
"Jo was wiped out by the end of the day," Olivia says with a chuckle.
"She certainly has a grip on that toy," Jeffries replies, as he sets a small, white ceramic bowl filled with diced cucumbers and watermelon on the table in front of Olivia.
"Cee got it for her with the extra tickets," frowning down at the unappealing salad.
"Watermelon and cucumbers are two of nature's wonderful diuretics. They'll help with the water retention and swelling."
Nodding with understanding, Olivia reluctantly picks up the spoon and slides the fruit salad into her mouth. She is pleasantly surprised.
"This is really good, Jeffries."
"The mint gives it a nice kick," he says knowingly.
"Cee has been researching how to care for tropical fish on her tablet. Of course - she wants more fish."
"Those devices can be a blessing and a curse."
"I know the internet is flawed — but it's a great resource for all kinds of information. Fitz installed the Net Nanny app on her tablet to monitor her activity and block inappropriate content. I'm just so happy she's back to her old self."
"Children are resilient, Mrs. Grant. A little time and a lot of love go a long way."
Olivia groans silently, hoping Jeffries never uses the word resilient around Fitz.
XXX
Fitz sets the small cardboard box on the desk then glances around the office. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he was last in the room. So much has happened over the past few months. He begins to unpack the box, smiling as he examines the mug Cena made him at summer camp. He is not sure if it is safe to drink coffee from the handmade ceramic mug. He does not want to risk getting lead poisoning. He sets the mug on the left side of the desk, then picks up the rocket Asha made for him at camp. He stares at the rocket for a long while, hoping she is safe.
"Welcome back, Mr. Grant. I'm sorry I wasn't at my desk when you arrived. I was downstairs getting more office supplies. Many of them seemed to have disappeared over the summer."
"Good morning, Mrs. Handley. It's good to be back," flashing his politician's smile.
"How was your summer? Did you and the family get a chance to get away?" Mrs. Handley asks, as she enters the office looking refreshed.
"It was a pleasant summer," he says flatly.
"How is Mrs. Grant doing? She's about six months now - right?"
"Almost seven months. Olivia and the babies are fine. We're due in December."
"December is right around the corner. Those babies will be here before you know it."
Fitz nods.
"It looks like the girls went to summer camp," Mrs. Handley says, nodding at the rocket he is holding.
"Yes – summer camp," he says, turning to set the rocket on the credenza next to the family photographs.
"I loved when my children would make me those horrible crafts at camp. My husband and I would ooh and ahh over them like they were precious Tiffany jewels. I'm sure the girls enjoyed camp. Are they excited to get back to school?"
"How was your summer, Mrs. Handley? Did you go on vacation?" He asks politely. He is not in the mood to explain what happened to Asha.
"I most certainly did. I visited my sister and her husband in Connecticut for a month. I go there every summer now that Mr. Handley is gone. They live by a lake – which is absolutely beautiful and relaxing. We went to the lake every day. Connecticut is nothing like Washington. The East Coast is so different – but I could see myself living there one day."
"Really?" Fitz says with surprise in his voice.
"Yes, sir. Put everything behind me and get a fresh start. Sometimes we need to hit the reset button. Sometimes you can stay in a place too long. You have to know when it's time to move on."
Fitz looks at his assistant thinking Mrs. Handley has an interesting perspective on life.
"Here I am chattering on and on about my vacation and reset buttons and I'm forgetting to give you this," she says, handing him a thick envelope.
"What is it?" Fitz asks with confusion in his eyes.
"It's the report on the state of the schools. I'm sure parents – teachers - politicians all want to know the results of the study. They want to know how it will influence your decision for school funding."
"Thank you, Mrs. Handley," Fitz says, reaching for the bulging manila envelope.
"Well – welcome back, sir. I'm going to make you a fresh pot of coffee. From the size of that envelope - it looks like you're going to need it."
Fitz settles back in the large leather chair and stares at the envelope. He sighs because he has no idea what the report will reveal. Mrs. Handley is right, everyone will be anxious to hear the results.
"Your coffee, sir," Mrs. Handley says, setting the mug on his desk.
"Mrs. Handley - when did the report arrive?" He asks, immediately bringing the steaming mug of coffee to his lips.
"A few weeks ago. I didn't want to send it to your home and interrupt your summer vacation."
"Thank you - I appreciate that. Mrs. Handley, is this a different brand of coffee?"
"It is. Do you like it?" She asks with a broad smile.
"It's terrific. Such a unique blend of flavors."
"There's a fantastic roaster in a little town in Connecticut near my sister's house. They create some of the most unique blends of coffee. I thought you might like it."
"Thank you, Mrs. Handley - that was kind of you," this time flashing her a genuine smile.
XXX
Fitz glances down at his watch, then tosses the report onto the desk. He cannot believe four hours have passed since Mrs. Handley brought in his lunch and a second pot of coffee. He massages the back of his neck, trying to remove the kinks. He has sat too long. He looks at the report, he has flagged almost every page with yellow sticky notes. The traditional and charter schools are a mess. Both systems are failing the children.
He brings the mug to his mouth and grimaces; the coffee is cold. He considers refreshing the coffee but decides otherwise. It is getting late and the extra caffeine will have him tossing and turning all night. Feeling a headache building behind his eyes, Fitz pinches the bridge of his nose, then walks over to the window and stares out at the park across the street, thinking something must be done about the school crisis.
"Mrs. Handley," he calls out, and within short order his assistant is standing in the doorway with pencil and pad in her hands.
"Yes, Mr. Grant?"
"Would you please schedule a meeting next week with Councilwoman Henrietta Chalmers?"
"Certainly," Mrs. Handley says, scribbling a quick note on her notepad. "Will there be anything else? A fresh pot of coffee?"
"No — thank you — that'll be all."
XXX
Massaging her stomach, breasts, and buttocks with the blend of essential oils that Marion gave her has become a sacrosanct part of her nightly routine. The moisturizing oils have definitely helped to diminish old stretch marks and halted any new stretch marks from forming. Fitz is right, Marion needs to patent the miracle serum.
Looking up when the bathroom door opens, Olivia sighs at the billowing steam that precedes her husband. She would think after almost 10 years of marriage he would remember to turn on the exhaust fan before getting into the shower.
"How are you feeling?" Fitz asks, quickly slipping on a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt.
"I'm fine babe. I told you that the four times you called today and the two times you asked at dinner."
"You gave me a scare this morning. How are my babies doing tonight?" Climbing into bed and pressing a kiss to her stomach.
"The babies are fine – but you look tired. Rough first day?" Looking over her shoulder at him as he leans back against the headboard.
"I'm exhausted. Today felt like a month."
"You've been off all summer. You're going to need at least another week to adjust to your new schedule."
"I have a lot of catching up to do. Mrs. Handley gave me the report on the state of the schools. It's not good."
"Mhm. Lie back," Olivia says, straddling him as her big belly rests against his chest.
"I'm tired, Liv. I listened to Cee's report on tropical fish - then I read Jo Goodnight Moon. Can I get a rain check?"
"I'm not talking about that. I don't have the energy either. I want to give you a face massage."
"A what?"
"It'll relax you— put you right to sleep."
He lies on his back and rests his arms down at his sides.
"Isn't that the oil Marion made for your stomach," watching her warm a few drops in her hands.
"It is. This stuff is amazing. Very moisturizing. It fades stretch marks and scars. I'm sure it'll take care of your crow's feet."
"Crows feet? I don't have crow's feet," he says with a hint of indignation.
"You do, babe. Tiny ones. I want to stop them in their tracks."
"Are you say I'm getting old?" Placing his hands on the sides of her stomach.
"We're all getting older. Now close your eyes," gently pressing her fingers over his face. "Cee talked your ears off at dinner. She really wants that aquarium. She quickly finished her homework so she could prepare her presentation for you."
Fitz sighs softly.
"She's struggling with math, Fitz. I had to go over the same problem with her several times before she finally got the hang of it."
"She's not focusing," he says through a yawn.
"Then you need to work with her. You're really good at math – and patient."
"Mmm — that feels nice." He says with eyes closed.
"Your Princess is becoming a diva. She wants to select her clothes for school. She wants me to comb her hair in different styles. I can't do all of those styles she likes. I'll have to take her to James."
"Maybe you should let her choose what she wants to wear. She is getting older."
"Says the man who followed the school bus this morning."
"That's different."
"How is that different?"
"It just is." Olivia rolls her eyes as she shakes more oil into her hand.
"Jeffries says Jo is confused why you and Cee are no longer home during the day. She wakes up from her nap looking for you two. She got used to everyone being home over the summer."
"I'll FaceTime her tomorrow from the office," he says with a smile.
"Why are you smiling?"
"I was thinking about our honeymoon — our time on the beach in Greece. The waves crashing against the rocks on the shore. You - lying naked next to me. Sex on the beach is definitely more than a drink," he chuckles.
"Babe — you've told that corny joke more than once."
"It's still funny — at least I think it is. We should go back. Our anniversary is in a few months. Ten years."
"Babe — we'll have four children soon. Our lives are so different." She pats more oil on his face then gently glides the jade Gua Sha stone across his forehead.
"What's that?" Opening his eyes and looking at her curiously.
"A Gua Sha stone."
"A what?"
"It'll help with the circulation and plump your face."
"So - my face is sagging?"
"Your face is so tense, babe," lightly swiping the jade stone around his left eye, then around the right eye.
"I was thinking …"
"About Greece?"
"About Norm. We should have them over for a pool date or something," enjoying the feel of the smooth stone gliding over his forehead.
"Who?"
"Norm Lidenker —Sophie's dad. We met them at the Fun Zone."
"Oh," she says, applying more of the miracle serum to his face so the stone can glide more smoothly.
"Did you know Norm gave up a lucrative engineering career so he could spend more time with his daughter?"
"How would I know that? How does this feel?" Slowly dragging the stone over his cheek and down his jawline the way she saw the aesthetician do it on the YouTube video.
"Nice," he replies. "Norm's been a stay-at-home dad for the past four years — since Sophie was three."
"Is that what the two of you were discussing while I was racking up points playing Miss Pac-Man?"
"He and his wife, Deborah — I think that's her name — they agreed it would be best for Sophie if one of them were to stay home with her."
"I see," slowly dragging the stone over his chin.
"What do you think? Would you mind if I stayed at home with the children?"
"One — you just went back to work today. Two — we've had this discussion more than once."
He sighs softly.
"Did something happen at City Hall today?"
"Nothing happened. Well — the school system is such a mess."
"Is that why you're considering resigning?"
"I didn't say I was thinking about resigning."
"That's the only way you can stay at home. Tilt your head back, babe — so I can do your neck."
He tilts his head back and she strokes the stone up and down his neckline, increasing the intensity of the pressure to remove the kinks.
"I just don't know how effective I've been — or will be."
"It won't be like the summer. Cee will be in school most of the day - and with Jeffries here — you won't have much to do,"
"The babies will be here in a few months and Jo needs a lot of attention. You'll need my help."
"Babe — my parents arrive in two months — right before Thanksgiving. And — we already talked about putting Jo in daycare. We agreed she needs to be around children her age."
"Are you saying you don't want me to do it?"
"I'm saying our situation is much different than Norm's and whatever his wife's name is. That's all."
"Do you think —"
"I'm done and you're glowing. You should sleep like a baby," she says, climbing off of him to clean the oil from the stone. "Babe — you know I'll support whatever you decide. You don't need to pick Norm's brain to make a decision," she says, slipping the stone back into its case.
XXX
"Oliviaaaaaaaa."
Olivia, Cena, and Jeffries look at each other, all wondering the cause of the early morning yelling.
"Olivia," Fitz yells out again as he hurries down the stairs and toward the kitchen.
Eyes close to bulging from her head, Olivia gasps and her hand covers her mouth when she sees her husband standing in the kitchen's doorway. Eyes mimicking her mother's, Cena holds a spoonful of cereal mid-air, inches away from her agape mouth. Jeffries' is slack-jawed and Bowtie starts to bark.
"What did you do to me?" He demands angrily.
Olivia's mouth opens and closes but no words come out and Jolie starts to cry. She has never heard her father yell.
"Do you see my face – my neck? It's red and swollen."
"Oh my God. What happened?" Olivia says, struggling to stand from her seat.
"Dammit! I have an important meeting this morning with the Superintendent of Schools. I can't meet with him looking like this."
"Sit down, babe. Let me see."
Cena's eyes follow her father as he sits down on the bench.
"Maybe I was a little too aggressive with the Gua Sha stone," she wonders out loud, her face impossibly close to his as she examines the swelling. "Maybe I shouldn't have used the stone with the grooves."
"God — I don't believe this," Fitz growls, throwing his hands up in despair.
"Maybe you're having an allergic reaction to the oils. Are you having trouble breathing? Is your tongue swollen?" She asks, gently touching his face as she tries to isolate the cause of his facial trauma.
"Olivia —please," swatting her hand away from his face. "Did Marion say the oils could be used on the face?"
"No — but …."
"Dammit, Olivia."
"I'll call Dr. Saleem and get you an emergency appointment."
"I'll make a paste of baking soda and cold water you can apply to your face. It'll calm the swelling until you can see the doctor," Jeffries says, quickly moving into action.
"No. No more homemade remedies," Fitz snaps, glaring at his wife again. "I have to call Mrs. Handley - let her know I won't be in the office today."
Cena turns her full body around in the chair to watch her father stomp from the kitchen. Olivia snatches her cell phone from the farmhouse table to call the doctor.
"Daddy scare me," Jolie says with tears rolling down her cheeks and Olivia picks her up from the floor.
"It's all right, baby girl. Daddy's just a little excited this morning. Cee — finish your breakfast — I'll wait with you for the bus this morning."
XXX
Carrying the breakfast tray to the study, Olivia knocks softly on the door before entering. She has made him scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with orange juice and coffee on the side. She knows he is tired of eating Jeffries' healthy meals. The meal is also a peace offering.
"I have breakfast for you," she says carefully as she walks toward the desk. Fitz remains silent. "I'm sorry, babe. I was just trying to —"
"Leave my crow's feet — my wrinkles — my gray hairs – and anything else about me that displeases you alone. Are we clear?"
"Yes. Your appointment is at 10:30. I'll drive you. I'll get dressed while you're eating," Olivia says, turning to leave the study.
"I'll drive myself," he says, pushing aside the tray.
"Oh — okay."
"Olivia — is that stuff Marion gave you good for the babies? I don't want …."
"I won't use it again," she says, walking from the study and closing the door behind her.
XXX
Fitz has been quiet since he returned from the doctor. He worked in the study all afternoon and said very little at dinner. He is still angry with her.
"The redness and swelling are going down. The medicine is working. You should be able to go into the office tomorrow," Olivia says carefully as she enters their bedroom. Tonight, she was on duty to read bedtime stories.
Fitz nods his head without looking up from the tablet.
"I spoke with Marion — she agrees with Dr. Saleem. You probably had an allergic reaction to one of the oils. She says there isn't anything in the serum that can harm the babies. It's all natural."
"Mhm," he mumbles, still not looking at her.
"You hardly said anything since you returned from the doctor. Are you going to be angry with me forever? I hate when you close me out. I was just trying to —"
"To what, Olivia? Turn back the clock? Make me look younger?"
"What?" Crinkling her brow in confusion.
"Are you embarrassed by my appearance?"
"What? No. Of course not. Why would you say such a thing?"
"Then why suddenly all of this talk about stopping my crow's feet in their tracks?"
"Babe — I was just having fun. You had a rough day at the office and I just wanted to do something to relax you."
"Pfft."
"I will love you when your hair is completely gray. I will love you when the bags under your eyes are down to your knees. I will love you forever. You're it for me, babe — so you better get used to me."
He sighs, his anger beginning to subside.
"I'm getting older, Liv. I'm several years older than you."
"Fitz," she says in a warning tone.
"Listen to me. I'm getting older and I want to make sure I'm living the life I want."
"What do you mean? Is this about staying at home?"
"I met with Geoffrey a few weeks ago."
"I was wondering when you were going to tell me about that," she says, sitting down on the bed next to him.
"Geoffrey wanted us to discuss a few things with the accountants. The business is doing very well by the way. Your copy of the financials is in the study. You need to read it."
"I don't have time to think about balance sheets, Fitz."
"Read it, Liv. I need you to know everything about the business — just in case …."
"Just in case what?" Looking at him with concern. "Are you all right? Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Calm down, Liv. I'm fine. Just read the documents — okay?"
"Okay. Okay."
After our meeting with the accountants was over — Geoffrey started telling me about all the new clients he and Marcus have brought on board.
"You miss it."
"I'm not sure — but I must admit — I was a little jealous. Negotiating high stakes mergers and acquisitions can be exhilarating— especially when the deal closes the way you planned. When I'm negotiating a deal — I know there is a beginning and an end because both parties want to move on to their next venture. In government — there never seems to be an end. Issues can drag on for years — decades even — without any meaningful resolution. It can be mentally exhausting."
"Babe — life is too short to do something that makes you miserable."
"I'm not miserable — but I do mind not feeling that I've accomplished something at the end of the day."
"I have told you over and over I will support whatever you decide. If you want to leave politics and go back to Grant Consulting — or do something completely different— even be a stay-at-home dad — I'm by your side. I just want my handsome husband to be happy."
"I love you — more than anything," he says, pulling her close.
"I love you — too."
"No more face massages?" He says with a crooked smile.
"No more face massages," she repeats, kissing him deeply.
XXX
Cena is always the first of the Grants to come downstairs for breakfast. She is usually excited about something and ready to regale Jeffries with the matters that are important for a seven-year-old girl.
"Good morning, Jeffries," Cena says as she enters the kitchen and climbs onto her stool.
"Good morning, Big-Little. How are you doing today?"
Cena shrugs her shoulders.
"Does that mean you don't know how you're doing or you don't want to tell me?"
"I explained to daddy how to take care of tropical fish — but he didn't say I could get more fish."
"Did your father say you cannot have more fish?"
"No. He just said I did a good job."
"Then you must think more positively. You must act as if you already have the fish."
Cena looks at him with confusion in her eyes.
"Positive thoughts attract positive experiences into your life. Negative thoughts attract negative experiences. Always think good thoughts, Big-Little and the universe will give you whatever you want."
"Daddy is the universe," Cena says, poking out her bottom lip. Jeffries chuckles. He will never tire of the innocence of children.
"What can I get you for breakfast this morning? You get to choose today."
"May I have toast and jam?"
"You certainly may," Jeffries replies as he drops two slices of sourdough bread into the toaster.
"Mommy makes the best jam. Daddy bought mommy lots of fruit when we went to the farm and we helped mommy make jam all day. It was a lot of work," Cena reports as Jeffries sets the jar of homemade strawberry jam on the granite island top.
"Your mother makes very good jam," Jeffries says.
"Why do you always call me Big-Little?"
"Because you're older than your siblings — but you're still a little girl."
"Oh. Mommy and daddy say you're the new Hildie."
"And who is Hildie?" Jeffries asks, taking the toast from the toaster and setting the plate in front of Cena.
"She helped us — just like you. I liked her."
"I see," Jeffries says, beginning to prepare the medley of vegetables for tonight's dinner.
"Why do you always make vegetables?" Cena asks as she scoops a heaping spoonful of jam from the jar and slathers it on a slice of toast.
"Because they taste scrumptious and they're good for you."
Cena's frowns.
"Mrs. Cramer is teaching us new math. I hate math. I'm not really good at it — neither is Sophie."
"You don't hate math. Math frustrates you because you don't understand the rules yet. There is a pattern to everything, Big-Little. Once you figure out the pattern — then math will become more enjoyable."
Cena takes a big bite of the toast thinking she really does hate math.
"I don't like some of those vegetables," Cena continues as she watches Jeffries dress the vegetables with olive oil, freshly squeezed lemon juice, and a variety of fresh herbs.
"You must fall in love with the diversity of foods, Big-Little — especially those in the vegetable kingdom."
"But I don't love broccoli and daddy says I don't have to eat it," repeating what her father has said to her so many times.
"Your father loves you very much," Jeffries replies as he tosses the vegetables around in the bowl.
"I know," Cena replies in the voice of a little girl who is secure in the knowledge of her father's love.
Jeffries plops a broccoli floret into his mouth and closes his eyes, enjoying the complex flavors of the marinade.
"Delicious."
The look of delight on Jeffries' face as he slowly chews the green vegetable piques Cena's curiosity, so she decides to step out on the water and try the vegetable.
"May I have one – please?"
"You most certainly may," Jeffries says, placing a small green floret in Cena's opened hand. He smiles as the little girl takes a tiny bite.
"I like it," she says, quickly stuffing the rest of the floret into her mouth. "It doesn't taste like mommy's."
Jeffries chuckles to himself. He loves the little girl's honesty. She has not yet learned to filter her thoughts.
"Good morning, Jeffries," Olivia says, holding Jolie's hand as they walk into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Mrs. Grant. Good morning, Jolie," Jeffries says as he sets the bowl of marinading vegetables into the refrigerator.
"Hi," Jolie says with a big smile as she tries to climb onto the stool next to her sister. She no longer wants to sit in her highchair.
"Cee — daddy's waiting for you outside. You don't want to miss the school bus," Olivia says as she helps her toddler to climb onto the stool.
"Okay," Cena says, quickly climbing down from her stool. She knows that her father hates to be late.
"Have a good day, Cee," Olivia says, hugging her daughter and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Mommy loves you so much."
"I love you too, mommy," Cena says, standing on her tip-toes to kiss her mother on the cheek. "Bye, Jo. Bye, Jeffries."
"Have a good day, Big-Little. Learn something new today and come back and tell me all about it."
"Okay," Cena says, starting to dash from the kitchen, but she stops short and looks over at her mother. "Mommy, Jeffries makes the best vegetables ever," she says then hurries to meet her father.
Olivia gives Jeffries a perplexed look, thinking she and Fitz do a lot of cajoling to get their daughter to eat the smallest amount of vegetables.
"Cee is eating vegetables? She hates most vegetables — especially broccoli."
"She's falling in love with vegetables — one floret at a time," Jeffries replies.
"Fitz didn't have time for breakfast this morning. I hope he eats something at the office," Olivia says, filling Jolie's cup with milk.
"I sat a little package in Mr. Grant's car when I realized he was running late."
"That was so thoughtful of you," Olivia says, running her fingers through her hair. "He hates being late. Oh — before I forget — next Thursday morning I have a meeting at the office. I will be gone for a few hours."
"Got it. I already checked the calendar. Jolie and I will hold down the fort until you return. Right, Jolie?"
"Right," Jolie replies with a big smile as she tries to climb onto the granite island top.
Olivia is happy that at least someone is using the family calendar she created over the summer to help her husband to get organized. She does not believe Fitz has looked at the calendar since she gave it to him.
XXX
With the brown leather portfolio tucked under his arm, Fitz rushes past Mrs. Handley's desk and into his office where Councilwoman Henrietta Chalmers is sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He hates being late. He dislikes when others make him wait and he dislikes it even more when someone has to wait because of him.
"Henri — I am so sorry to keep you waiting. My meeting ran much longer than planned," his face flush from running down the marble halls.
"No worries, Council President Grant," Henri says, standing and extending her hand. "Mrs. Handley informed me you would be a few minutes late. I was just admiring your family photos. The girls are getting big."
"They are," he says, setting the portfolio on the desk. "Can I get you anything, Henri? Coffee? Tea?"
"Take a breath, Fitz — your efficient assistant took care of that as well," glancing at the cup of coffee on the desk.
"I don't know what I would do without Mrs. Handley. How was your summer, Henri?"
"Too short. My grandchildren spent a month with Arthur and me. He's super crazy about our grandchildren. I am too — of course - but Arthur — he can play with them all day. I'm sure you know all about that. I'm sure the grandparents spoil your children rotten."
Fitz smiles politely, motioning his hand for Henrietta to sit down. He does not want to talk about grandparents, at least not his parents.
"Henri — did you have a chance to read the report on the state of our schools that Mrs. Handley sent over to your office?"
"Yes – I did," Henri says, pulling the thick report from her briefcase.
"Needless to say - I am very disappointed in the findings. Charter school test scores have been on the decline for the past three years. Except for a handful - charters aren't performing any better than the traditional schools."
"There isn't anything new in that report, Fitz. It's all old news."
Stunned by her response, Fitz stares at Henri, hoping she has more to offer about the consultants' findings.
"Henri — we can't be nonchalant about this. We have a crisis on our hands. Addressing these problems is more urgent now than ever before."
"One — I am not nonchalant about the problems that plague our schools. I just didn't need another group of overpaid consultants to tell me what I already know. You're still new to this job, Fitz. That's not a criticism – just a fact. I've been the chair of the Education Committee for many years - today's problems with our schools are yesterday's problems. Low test scores – increased drop-out rates – old school buildings not equipped with modern technology — the list goes on and on."
"I didn't mean to imply that you were uncaring about the situation."
"Fitz — it's disappointing and heartbreaking to know that in the richest country on the planet - all of our children don't have access to a quality education. Education in America is a commodity - purchased in the marketplace of tuition and real estate. High quality schools are accessed by those who can afford them and under-resourced and under-performing schools are attended by those who cannot."
"Dammit - this has to change, Henri. We'll never break the cycle of poverty if we cannot provide the children of this city a proper education. The world has been coalescing into a single social and economic entity for years and our children aren't being properly prepared to participate in it."
Henri stares at the obviously frustrated man as he forks his fingers through his hair.
"I'm sorry, Henri - it's been a tough summer. Coming back to this dismal report doesn't help matters."
"No need to apologize - I certainly understand your frustration. I'm right there with you. Implementing the recommendations outlined in this report and in past reports will certainly get our children on the path to compete globally. But Fitz — those recommendations will cost a lot of money — lots of money. We cannot expect an increase in federal and state dollars to bail us out of this mess. And – the citizens of this city don't want to see their taxes increased to support a system that continuously produces a bad product. The taxpayers won't go for it."
"One's ZIP Code should not determine the quality of education that children get, Henri."
"Unfortunately — it does. However — for schools that don't solely rely on taxpayers' dollars — but are funded by billionaires — where money is not an object — inner city children perform as well as those children who live in the suburbs."
"You mean like the Bill and Melinda Gates Education Initiative?"
"Exactly. While the Gates have not been wholly successful — they are making the necessary changes. When they realized a one-size-fits-all standard does not work for all schools — they shifted their funding to tailor solutions to meet the specific needs of the communities they are trying to help." Fitz nods his head. "They needed to listen to local teachers — administrators — and families to understand each community's unique needs. All schools need more input from families when making critical decisions — no matter who is writing the check. Money and community involvement are critical keys to this problem, Fitz.""Then we better call Bill and Melinda," he chuckles mirthlessly.
"Or Jeff Bezos — or one of the many other billionaires in this country," Henri says, continuing with the joke.
"I may have painted myself into a corner, Henri. I put a freeze on additional school funding until after the report was completed. Well – it's done. If I don't act on the recommendations — then what was the point of commissioning the study in the first place? If I act on the recommendations – then taxes are going to increase. I campaigned on no new taxes."
Henri nods her head in agreement. She can appreciate the council president's dilemma.
"I feel like I'm missing something. There has to be another solution to this problem – another alternative."
"When you figure it out – let me know," Henri says, standing from her seat. "I have to get to another meeting, Fitz. Call me if you want to discuss further."
"Thank you, Henri," Fitz says, walking from behind the desk to escort the councilwoman from the office.
"Fitz — one more thing — while the lack finances is a significant problem for our schools — keep in mind — the core of our students come from challenging homes. The school system can't fix the home milieu — but we can partner with organizations like the one your wife leads to address some of the issues."
"Have a good day, Henri."
With hands stuffed deep in his pants pockets, Fitz stares out the window thinking about the school system's financial crisis. Henri is right, they cannot count on the federal and state governments to provide more funding. The taxpayers will come after him with pitchforks if he hints at raising taxes. He feels like he is in a lose-lose situation.
XXX
"Excellent report, Olivia. It looks like the pilot programs are producing terrific results," Fred Bryson says, setting the coffee cup onto the saucer before leaning back in the oversized leather chair and folding his hands on top of his round stomach.
"I'm very proud of the work the community leaders are doing, Fred. Dr. Harris moving to Seattle set the Lead Prevention Program back a bit — but she found us a phenomenal replacement before she left. Testing - treatment – and neurodevelopmental monitoring are all continuing as planned. We have a registry of children who have been exposed to lead— so we can follow and treat them throughout their lifetime."
"Good. Good. Children cannot learn if their brains are clouded by lead poisoning."
Olivia nods her head in agreement.
"Remedial learning programs are vitally important since there is no cure for lead poisoning."
"Speaking of learning — has your husband decided what he is going to do about funding the schools? Bryson Philanthropy is funding Triumph Tabernacle Charter School — but what about the others?"
"Fitz and I don't discuss our work at home. We aren't aligned on all topics."
"I see. Women must know their place," Fred mutters half under his breath.
"Excuse me? What did you just say?" Olivia asks, taken aback by Fred's comment.
"Nothing. Nothing," Fred says, clearing his throat as he brings the cup to his lips. "Coffee, Olivia?"
"Are you saying a woman's job is to serve her husband — to be subservient to a man?"
"Olivia — I'm not a Neanderthal. I know that women have made significant accomplishments over the years – but you would agree that the women's primary role is to be a supportive helpmate — meet all the needs of the man."
Olivia is flabbergasted. She cannot believe what she is hearing. She had no idea Fred was a sexist.
"No – I don't agree," Olivia says defiantly.
"No need to get defensive, Olivia," Fred says dismissively, and before she realizes it – she is blurting out what she had no intention of saying today or any other day.
"Do you remember Kelly Innis?" She asks, trying not to let her anger get the best of her.
"Yes. An unfortunate situation. What does she have to do with funding schools?" Fred asks, disinterestedly as he glances down at his watch.
"Do you think in addition to cleaning bathrooms it was Kelly Innis' job to be sexually harassed and raped?"
"What?" Fred exclaims, his head snapping up, now giving Olivia his full attention.
"Your C-O-O raped Kelly Innis — down the hall — in the men's bathroom — just feet from this office."
"Where are you getting this nonsense from? Who is telling you this?"
"It's in her diary. Kelly documented the entire disgusting act," Olivia says, now sitting on the edge of the chair and rubbing her stomach. "That man raped one of your employees — on these premises. He needs to be held to account, Fred."
"You need to stop saying rape. How do you know whatever happened — if anything happened at all — wasn't consensual?"
"What happened to Kelly was anything but consensual. You need to terminate him before he does it to another woman," Olivia insists.
"You want me to ruin a good man's career based on the words of a disturbed junkie?"
Olivia's eyes stretch wide and her face hardens; she is close to exploding. Sensing he has gone too far; Fred softens his tone.
"Olivia — let's calm down. I can't fire the man based on allegations. Doing so will expose my company to all kinds of lawsuits."
"I have proof — in Kelly's own handwriting— in her own words."
"That diary wouldn't stand up in court. His lawyers would rip it apart as well as my company. The woman was a drug addict. For God's sake - she died with a needle in her arm."
Olivia folds her arms across her chest and gives the man a pointed look. Fred sighs and once again tries to pacify the upset executive.
"Did Miss Innis report this — this matter to HR or the police?"
"No. I don't think so. At least it's not in her diary."
"Then my hands are tied."
"Men like him don't do this kind of thing once, Fred."
"We used the nation's top executive search firm to recruit him. If there was anything like this in his background they would've found It. He's clean."
"He's not clean. Just because you didn't find anything doesn't mean he hasn't done it before. You're not a criminal until you've been caught — isn't that what they say?"
"Olivia — take a breath — you're getting emotional."
"Yes — I'm emotional. A woman was raped in this building and you're not willing to do anything about it. Kelly Innis was one of your employees — too, Fred. Or does she not matter because she was a poor Black woman who cleaned toilets?"
Fred sighs again, he does not want to turn this into a discussion about race.
"Doesn't he have rights — too, Olivia?"
"Of course - he does. Bring him here and let's ask him what happened. Even better — hire an outside investigator — let them get to the truth. Investigators look for corroborating evidence to determine whose story is more credible. Corroborating evidence does not require eyewitnesses."
"I'm not going to do that. This is a serious allegation you're making. The man has a family for God's sake."
"And so did Kelly — yet he used her like a physical device for his pleasure."
"Let it go, Olivia."
"I cannot let it go. I won't let it go."
"Olivia –please - our lunch will be here soon. Let's not ruin a good meeting."
"I cannot work for a company that does not respect women. I won't work for a company that does not make the workplace safe for all of its employees."
"Olivia — the woman is dead — let this thing die — too. Go home — think about it — discuss it with your husband. I'm sure Fitz can help you with your thinking."
Olivia slams her hand on Fred's desk. She is fed up with the man's sexist remarks.
"I don't need to discuss my professional decisions with my husband or anyone else. Suggesting I do so is insulting and sexist."
"Olivia – think about what you're saying. We have so much more work to do to improve the welfare of the disadvantaged in this city. Don't throw it all away now."
"I cannot work for you any longer, Fred. If you like I will send you a few names to consider as my replacement," she says, walking toward the door.
"Goddamit, Olivia — Gerry isn't going to like this."
Olivia whips her head around and stares at Fred with wide eyes. Fitz was right, Fred is in league with her father-in-law. The knock on the door interrupts their stare down.
"Lunch has arrived, Mr. Bryson. Shall I have it brought in?" Deanna asks cautiously as she looks back and forth between the two people in the room. The tension is palpable.
"Goodbye, Fred," Olivia says as she stomps from the office.
XXX
Sitting on the side of the bed, Olivia half-heartedly performs her nightly routine as she reflects on her meeting this morning with Fred Bryson. She is still angry about Fred's response to Kelly's rape. She is angry about his dismissive attitude. She is angry about the imbalance in power between men and women.
Rubbing the expensive cream on her arm, she thinks about the women in her life: her mother, Maura, Nora, Abby, Marion, Mona, and wonders if any of them has been sexually harassed, or worse, in the workplace. She thinks about her daughters.
Unbuttoning his shirt as he enters the bedroom, Fitz wants nothing more than to take a hot shower and go to sleep. He is mentally exhausted. His meeting this morning with Henrietta was dispiriting because there does not seem to be a solution to the problems with the schools. To cap off his long and tiring day, this evening his enthusiastic daughter insisted he once again listen to her presentation on caring for tropical fish.
"Cee updated her presentation," he says, walking into the closet to hang up his clothes. "She didn't want me to read a story tonight — instead - she wanted to tell me about the various types of tropical fish — aquarium tank sizes — water temperatures. The whole nine yards. How about we get her a small aquarium and a few more fish for her birthday? That's only a month from now. I'm not sure if she can wait until then," he chuckles. "What do you think?"
No response.
"Liv — what do you think?" He repeats as he walks back into the bedroom wearing only his boxers.
"What?" She responds, staring at him with a blank look in her eyes.
"Did you hear anything I said?"
"I resigned my position at Bryson's today. I told Fred I couldn't work for him any longer."
"Okay," he says, sitting next to her and taking her hand in his.
"I didn't plan to resign. In fact — our meeting was going well. I gave him the quarterly update on the funded programs — including success metrics. He was pleased with the outcomes for the past quarter."
"What happened?"
"Fred's a sexist. I told him about the rape — about Kelly's diary. I know you didn't want me to say anything — but things are different now. For months my silence felt like complicity, Fitz. I couldn't be silent any longer."
"Okay. This is why you were quiet at dinner."
"Kelly didn't have a voice. She didn't have agency over her own body. She didn't have the ability to say no to a man who was more powerful than her."
"It's going to be all right," Fitz says, bringing her hand to his lips.
"I can't imagine the violence she experienced in that bathroom. I can't imagine the shame she felt, Fitz. He's the one who should feel shame."
"What did Fred say?"
"He said Kelly's diary was nothing more than a bunch of allegations. He said the words of a junkie were not enough for him to fire one of his top executives."
"I'm sorry," Fitz says somberly.
"In so many ways I'm like Kelly."
"What do you mean?"
"Socio-economically — our lives are very different. But as a woman — as a Black woman — we are both oppressed by this patriarchal system."
"Liv …"
"I'm fine. I'll be fine. I know I can't do anything about what happened to Kelly. I know the diary isn't enough proof — but I believe her, Fitz. I was hoping Fred would believe her - too."
"All that matters is that you believe her."
"She deserves justice, Fitz."
"Unfortunately— there's no way to get justice for Kelly," Fitz says, rubbing his hand up and down her back.
"So — I let the community down for nothing: Rev. Walker – Gray —Bernadette. What am I going to tell them about future funding for their programs?"
"You did what you needed to do. You were being principled and courageous."
"My principles are going to hurt a lot of people," she says sadly.
"You got those organizations more funding than they ever dreamed of."
"Was resigning privileged outrage? I had the luxury of renouncing what Fred stands for - but the people that money is helping don't have that kind of privilege. They just want to improve their community. They don't know anything about what happened to Kelly."
"You'll find another way to help."
"I'll never get that kind of funding again, Fitz. Ten million dollars could've done so much good."
"Did Fred say he was going to discontinue the philanthropy program? That wouldn't be good for his brand."
"He didn't say. I got out of there when I realized he had no intention of holding that monster accountable. I really loved doing that work, Fitz."
"I know," wrapping a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders.
"Babe, Fred said Gerry wasn't going to like that I resigned."
"What the hell did he mean by that? Is that supposed to be some sort of threat?"
"I don't know."
XXX
Sitting behind the desk in his office at City Hall, Darius Moton stares at the incriminating documents in his hand as he reflects on the mind-blowing meeting he had two weeks ago with the man who can grant his lifelong desire. All of his life he wanted nothing more than to lead the city in which he was born. He has watched lesser men ascend to the mayor's seat while he remained in city council mentoring even lesser qualified men and women as council president. This is his turn. This is his opportunity to grab the brass ring, to sit in the mayor's seat, and he is willing to do whatever is necessary, even make a Faustian bargain with the devil himself.
Flashback
"What do you want more than anything else in this world, Councilman Moton?"
"Excuse me?" Darius says, turning his body in the backseat of the darkened SUV to stare at the man's profile.
"You heard me. If you could have anything — what would it be?"
Darius has no idea what kind of game the man is playing, so he continues to stare at him, waiting for more information.
"Anything you want, councilman. Your wildest dreams," the man with the crystal blue eyes says as he looks at Darius.
"I want to rule this city. I want to be mayor."
"So - you want power."
"Doesn't everyone?"
"You of all people should know the mayor gets nothing done without council's permission. You once chaired the Appropriations Committee until my son encouraged you to step down," Gerry Grant says, smiling deviously.
Darius balls his hand into a tight fist.
"What would you say if I told you I can give you the power you have craved your entire life? I can make you the mayor of this fine city."
"I'd say why me?"
"Because you hate my son. You have a vendetta against him."
Darius does not bother to shield his contempt for the council president who ruined his political career.
"What would you want in return?"
"Not much. Just consideration on some very important projects I've been working on. And a few other things – of course."
"Why are you coming to me? Your son is the president of city council. Why don't you ask him to push your projects through?"
"My son is a man of principles, councilman."
Darius bristles at the insinuation.
"Fitzgerald doesn't care about power — not real power. Besides — he can't be bought."
"And you think I can be bought?" Darius says angrily.
"Any man who craves power has a price, councilman."
"I can beat your son at the ballot box if he decides to run for mayor. I don't need to buy whatever you're peddling."
"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought. If Fitzgerald decides to run for mayor — you wouldn't stand a chance in an election against him. The people of this city love him. They love his wife. They love their interracial marriage. No one knows who the hell Darius Moton is."
Darius shifts on the smooth leather seat and tightly interlocks his fingers. He hates all the Grants.
"Do you want power or do you want to remain a councilman forever?"
"Yes. I want it," Darius replies, close to salivating.
"I am never disappointed," Gerry Grant says smugly. "I can always count on people like you who are willing to sell their soul to people like me. Take this — use it against my son. After what he's done to you — I'm sure you'll get great pleasure out of taking him down."
Darius slides the papers from the manila envelope and his eyes grow to the size of saucers when he reads the first few lines of text. He cannot believe the lengths to which the elder Grant is willing to go to fulfill whatever agenda he has. Gerry chuckles at the look on Darius' face.
"Why would you want to take down your own son?"
"Some things are more important than one person — even if that one person is family."
"When I'm mayor — I'm going to need someone in the council president seat that I can count on. I don't want to have to fight the new council president on every piece of legislation. Can you make that happen?"
Looking straight ahead, Gerry nods his head. He is done with the meeting.
"You may go now. And councilman — don't ever try to contact me. This conversation never happened."
End Flashback
Darius tosses the manila envelope onto the desk and lets out a maniacal laugh as he thinks about the irony of the situation. He is going to bring down the man he hates more than anyone in the world and Gerry Grant is helping him to do it. Darius expels another roaring laugh as he thinks about his favorite book written by his idol, deceased billionaire Reginald Lewis, titled "Why Should White Guys Have All The Fun?"