Secret Silver Nights. Zuri Day
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phrase. “Women are like flowers,” he’d say as he shared them. “There’s more to you than just the bloom.”
Two steps into the shop and three things assailed him: the chatter of what sounded like dozens of women, the smell of food and a nearly life-size poster—okay, maybe he was exaggerating a bit but...wow—of his latest mayoral rival. Below the image of a smiling Monique Slater wearing a conservative black suit and a pleasant smile against a backdrop of law books and the American flag were the words New Mayor, New Vision, New Day. He’d barely had time to drink in the changes to the lobby when he heard applause coming from the back of the shop.
“Good morning, Niko!”
So caught up was he in all of these changes, he’d not even noticed the attractive receptionist always ready to flirt. He walked over to where she sat behind the receptionist counter. “Hello! Looks like you guys started the party without me.”
“You’re late, Mr. Mayor,” the receptionist purred, batting stark blue eyes and flipping thick, raven-colored hair over her shoulder. “Someone beat you to us this morning, and if the impression she’s making on our customers is any indication...you just might have a fight on your hands.”
“Oh, really?” Niko leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as he asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s dared to come into my territory and challenge me?”
“I have.”
The unexpected declaration from behind him threw Niko for an unexpected loop. But only temporarily. Within seconds he’d regrouped, turning around and greeting his opponent with a sincere smile.
“Monique Slater,” he said, walking toward her with hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you again.”
Monique’s brow rose. “Is it?” She returned his handshake, firm and assured. Her eyes held a saucy mixture of intelligence and tease. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember our one and only former meeting.” She continued, her voice lowered so that only Niko could hear. “As I remember, things didn’t fare too well for you that day. Come November, I’m planning a similar outcome.”
“I’m sure you are,” Niko smoothly replied, allowing just a hint of bass into his voice. “I, on the other hand, am confident that there will be a very different ending. Though I must admit, your surprise strategy was quite effective, at least with me.” To her arched eyebrow he further explained, “Mo Slater.”
“Ah, yes. I was christened that in law school by a group of lovable jerks determined to make me hard as nails. They said Monique was too sexy, too feminine.”
“You are that,” Niko easily drawled.
Ignoring his comment, she replied, “Mo is friendly, casual, comfortable, a bit no-nonsense.”
“And unisex.”
“Yes.”
A very attractive woman wearing jeans, a silk sweater and five-inch heels rounded the corner. “Oh, there you are!” she said to Monique with a grin.
“Hello, Joy.”
“And with company, I see.” For Niko there was no smile; hadn’t been one since he’d broken up with her daughter, even though he and ex-girlfriend Ashley were on friendly terms. Joy turned back to Monique. “Some of the ladies who’ve offered to volunteer on your campaign wanted to know if you needed help today.”
“That’s very kind of them, but no, not today. Once they call the office, their names and contact information will be entered into our database, and they’ll be assigned to the appropriate committee or team. I’ll go back and explain myself so that they’re clear.”
Niko turned to the woman conspicuously ignoring him. “Hello, Joy. Didn’t know you were helping the competition.” He smiled. “But I’ll still give you a rose.”
He held one out to her. She refused it.
“Flowers are fine. But breakfast was better.” She turned to Monique. “Mo, where did you get those breakfast burritos? And that sauce that tastes like grape jelly? Amazing!”
“From a caterer who came highly recommended,” Monique responded. “I’m glad everyone enjoyed them.”
“If you ladies will excuse me,” Niko interrupted, not surprised at Joy’s rudeness but a tad chagrined. Out publicly for mere hours and the new candidate was already trying to steal some of his shine. “I’ll be on my way. Monique.” He held out his hand. “I look forward to a fair, friendly, yet hard-fought race.”
“You can count on it,” Monique replied as Joy chuckled.
Niko nodded at both women, then turned the corner into the shop’s main room. Soon, thoughts of what had just occurred were forgotten as he engaged the roomful of women in conversation. His topics shifted along with his personality; he was slightly flirtatious yet professional, down-to-earth yet knowledgeable, highbrow yet practical. Yes, this was a beauty shop, but some of the questions coming at him were intellectual and well thought out while others were simple and straightforward.
“We need more affordable housing,” one woman boasting big plastic rollers said. “Everyone isn’t wealthy like you. Do you have a plan for dealing with us regular folk?”
“What is your name, ma’am?”
“Diane,” she stated with a smile.
“First of all, that is a very good question,” he began after addressing her personally and embracing rather than running from the issue of his wealth. “The fact that my family has been very successful in the area of local real estate puts me in the very unique position of being able to personally help oversee this task. As many of you know, Drake Realty has been around almost as long as this town has been incorporated. We’ve worked hard to present a variety of living options based on consumer needs. As our town has grown and expanded, so has the diversity of its citizens. One of our latest projects was designed with this changing demographic in mind. The Seventh Heaven complex offers competitively priced housing, including condominiums, for our middle-income citizens. Now we’re turning our focus to apartment buildings, for those in the low-to-mid-income range. I can’t guarantee how large a supply we’ll have at this level, but I do know that there will be some opportunity for renters, and those who’d like to buy a lower-priced home will have more variety from which to choose.”
“Monique.” The woman behind Diane looked over Niko’s shoulder. He wasn’t aware she’d come back into the main salon room. “Where do you live?”
“I purchased one of those middle-income condominiums that Niko spoke of,” Monique answered. “In Seventh Heaven. Yet I’m also all too familiar with the myriad of families and working people who can’t afford the homes in my neighborhood, and others for whom a community such as Golden Gates may as well be in Beverly Hills for the likelihood of their living there. In my practice as a defense attorney, I know what poverty and lack of opportunity can do for a neighborhood and to a soul. Paradise Cove is a beautiful part of California’s landscape, and I’m here to ensure that every citizen, from the richest to the poorest, gets the chance to enjoy what you can currently afford, and to provide the resources so you can aim even higher.”
“Ms. Slater is absolutely correct,” Niko countered, using a debate tactic whereby the debater agreed with their opponent only to later use their very words to dismantle them. “The average person can’t afford to live in the gated community my family helped develop. Starting with my grandfather, Walter Drake, we worked our butts off to establish and grow our company and used blood, sweat and tears to establish our brand. I have not nor will I ever either misrepresent who I am and where I come from, nor apologize for the blessings that this hard work has produced. The story of my family, who rose from humble Louisiana country beginnings to the top of the real-estate and architectural industries is one that is well-known to almost everyone with deep roots in Paradise Cove, and one that everyone who is new to our community will undoubtedly hear.” He shot a friendly glance over at Monique and relaxed his stance. “I’m sure that Monique and I don’t