Page 102 of Hottie on Her Shelf
“Whose?”
“The Montgomerys. Preston and Caroline. Not your aunt, obviously. She’s awesome. And not your sister, either.”
Yeah. Those two had never pushed him to run for mayor. Never acted like their family was single-handedly responsible for keeping every citizen of Swan Cove upright and breathing, either. “Because Blake’s in her own science-land bubble ninety-nine percent of the time.”
“Right. Your parents are the problem-causing Montgomerys. We need to get you out from under their thumb and prove that their mightier-than-thou shtick is just an act.”
“They’re not perfect,” Fitz murmured.
He thought about his mom caring more about appearances than sharing her genuine, frightening illness with her son. Thought about his dad’s quarterly trips to D.C. to “visit an old friend,” which he’d admitted to Fitz was code for visiting his mistress.
Everett snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
“But they do bend over backward to pretend that they’re—no, that we’re all perfect. That our last name magically confers some extra helping of brains and patience and fortitude and saintliness.”
“It’s not pertinent to this current emergency discussion, but as your friend and former roommate, I have to point out that you are definitely no saint.”
“Thanks for that.” Fitz cupped his ear. “Hear that? It’s my grandparents rolling over in their graves.”
“You don’t curl up the tube of toothpaste as you go.”
Yeah, they’d fought about that at least once a week. Even after Fitz bought Everett a case of his own to shut him up. “Why bother?”
“You always have to order last at a restaurant in case someone else’s order sways you. Do you know how annoying that is?”
“Why do you think I do it? Bugging you is one of the high points of my day.” They grinned at each other, relishing their shared years of history. It was just the break Fitz needed to get his feet back under him.
“I’m just saying that everyone has things they regret. Every family has black sheep.”
Hell.
Fitz lunged forward, arm raised in the unspoken signal for a high five. Everett did not leave him hanging. The sharp slap of sound reverberated through the office. “You’re brilliant.”
“Can I get you to record that? Maybe do a TikTok I can show the students?”
“Are you even allowed to be on TikTok with your job?”
“Sure, but it’s a time suck. I’m not on it. The school has a secret account. We use it to check on students we’re worried about, see if they’re displaying warning signs of bullying, self-harm, suicide.”
“Man, I thought my job was bad.” Fitz sat back down, crossed his forearms on the desk, and leaned forward. “You’ve come up with a win-win scenario. I don’t have to publicly shame my family. I just have to threaten them with exposure.”
“You mean your uncle’s backpedal down to Miami?”
Fitz had filled Everett in on the secret and ignominious real reason behind his uncle’s relinquishing his title as mayor and moving to Florida. “Yeah. That’s a scandal they’ve already bent over backward to hide.”
“I think you’re right. They’d do just about anything to not have that revealed.”
“On the one hand, the citizens of this town deserve to know what really went down, but wiping the slate clean of Montgomerys as mayor should be good enough.” Fitz also planned to reach out to the ex-city manager and see if he could give the man a glowing reference to help him out. The Montgomerys had cost him one job. Anything Fitz could do to help him find another was the least of the payback he deserved.
“Yeah. The money was repaid. Too many years have gone by. Dredging it up won’t fix anything.” Everett pointed finger guns at Fitz. “Threatening to, however, should fix all your problems with your parents.”
This was shaping into a viable plan. “The cost of my silence will be their promise to stay hands-off from now on. Hallie and her parents will be safe from their games, too. I’ll quit the campaign. Then I can live my life.”
“I like how you’ve found a way to stay loyal to your family legacy and still orchestrate what you want. You’re not the kind of man who would put your family through that. However, your parents don’t know that you don’t share their taste for playing dirty. So yeah—you don’t end up with any guilt. Way to go.”
“Thanks.” Fitz glanced at the clock. Problem solved with one minute to spare. His friend was good.
“Except for one thing.” After a practice flick, Everett whipped another pencil into the acoustic tile overhead. Then he looked Fitz dead in the eyes. “You can’t quit the campaign.”
