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The realization doesn’t come with a lightning strike. It’s not because I’ve almost lost her. It’s because she’s the only person in my life who has consistently praised me for being me. Who’s told me that I can do what I want to do. Who hasn’t tried to discourage me from taking risks.
I square my shoulders and walk out onto the stage.
The crowd spreads out through the park, and it’s immense. Or it seems that way to me. I stand in front of the podium and adjust the microphone. It screeches and wails, and the folks in the crowd wince.
Fuck. Great start.
I scan the crowd and spot Marci near the front. My gaze latches onto her, and my breathing rate slows.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what I’m doing on this stage,” I start. “None of y’all expected Jesse Taylor to run for sheriff.” That gets a smattering of laughter. “The truth is, I was inspired by a special woman. My gorgeous wife, Marci.” I smile at her, and her cheeks pink. “She’s taught me that it’s important to go for what you want in the way she does business and cares about the people around her. And that’s why I’m running this year. Because I care about this town. I was born here, lived here all my life, and I know what the people of Heatstroke deserve. Less crime. A place that’s safe for their kids, their loved ones. Where you don’t have to worry that a guy with a knife is going to attack you in the street. Or that the police won’t take your requests seriously.”
A couple of expressions shift in the crowd from bored to intrigued. To my left, Deputy Dinglefuck shifts in his seat and shoots me a look.
This will hit home. Sheriff Davis isn’t batting a hundred. After what Marci told me about the night her father died, I’ve been doing some research of my own. And I’ve come up against some pretty substantial barriers.
“As the sheriff, my first duty is to the people of this town. That means I’ll be restructuring how things are done within the bounds of the law and weeding out those unsavory elements who are acting with negligence within the department.”
Applause.
I grasp the sides of the pulpit, drawing my shoulders back.
“And, of course, small businesses are the backbone of our county and our town. I’ll be putting extra effort into ensuring that there are more deputies and peace officers present on the streets to keep crime at a minimum. Currently, our department is severely lacking in diversity. I’ll remedy that as sheriff. This community deserves peace officers and law enforcement officials who represent what it stands for.” I take a breath. People are paying attention now. There are smiles, nods, even. “I intend on having an open door policy, so that complainants can talk to me directly when they have an issue with how due process is being handled in our town. Heatstroke, and the entirety of Wait County deserve better. I’m the one who’ll deliver it to them.”
The crowd cheers. It’s not deafening, but it’s enough, and I leave the stage elated.
Marci meets me behind the screen and throws her arms around me with an excited squeal.
“You were fucking amazing. Are you kidding me?”
“You think so?”
“Jesse, you’re a superstar. They couldn’t get enough of you.”
She brushes a kiss over my cheek that’s spontaneous and carries more meaning than our friends-with-benefits arrangement.
“Couldn’t have done it without you,” I say.
A frown flickers across her brow, and she backs up a step.
“The plan’s working,” she murmurs. “I’m happy that it’s working.”
I stare at her. “Me too.”
A woman with graying hair approaches us. She’s tall and thin, wearing blue and red. “That was a great talk, Deputy Taylor,” she says, and extends a hand. “Francis Oakes.”
We shake on it, and Marci backs up more. I want to reach out to her, but I don’t.
“I liked what you said about diversity in the sheriff’s department,” she says. “That’s precisely why I’m running.” She gives me a tight, professional smile. “I was a police commissioner in Austin. Turns out retired life isn’t for me.”
My gaze moves to Marci again.
“Best of luck to you.”
I should be threatened by this woman. She’s far more experienced than I am, she’s well put together, but I only have eyes for my wife and the way she’s moving farther from me.
“I’ve got some obstacles to overcome,” Francis continues. “These people don’t know me, but I’m sure I can get them to listen. I’m looking forward to the debate next month. I’ll be counting on you being there.”
And then she pats and squeezes my upper arm and walks off toward the stage.
