"Listen, Jean-Paul, I don't give a shit about your excuses," Brice growled into his earpiece. "I need those numbers by tomorrow, or I'll find someone who can deliver. Got it?" He ended the call with a sharp tap, not waiting for a response.
His campaign manager, Sophie Durand, strode in and plopped down in the chair across from him. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, her usual impeccable suit slightly rumpled.
"Tell me you've got good news," Brice said.
"Define 'good,'?" Sopihe said. "We're up two points, but Britton is still leading by five."
"Damn," Brice muttered. "What's our strategy?"