Chapter 8

He asked, “One finger or two?”

“One will get the job done.”

He poured me one finger of whiskey and two for him. Before drinking, he said, “To a new friendship between us.”

“To friendship,” I replied, clicked my glass against his. I tilted the liquid down the back of my throat and felt it burn the entire way.

He asked me about my family, interests, and other details of my life I thought boring. Cane banged out a list of questions, which I quickly answered.

Then he asked, “How long have you worked for the city?”

“Sixteen years. An executive assistant to the mayor.”

“You ever think about running for mayor?”

I shook my head. “No way. I feel comfortable pushing papers from one side of my desk to other and making a billion phone calls. I want nothing to do with politics or a position like that.”

“I would agree with that. Politicians become villains even when they don’t want to be.” He downed another finger of whiskey. “But, if you were to run for mayor, you’d probably win.”