Life of Lies

Doctor April Drake, nee Saunders, sat next to her husband on the small sofa opposite the three political inductors. The furniture was large and comfortable, affordable due to the prospering plastic surgery practice that she ran with exceptional efficiency. Good money was made with breast enlargements, face lifts, and butt tucks. None of which she needed for herself, being lucky to be a natural at all three. But the sin of vanity that others lived came in advantageously. Their needs provided her with some of the luxuries of life. Professionally though, her love laid in the miracle of skin grafts for burn victims or restructuring of malformed children from birth defects. The humanitarian practices quite noble, but not as plentiful or profitable as the people’s needs and willingness to pay for unnatural good looks.

Ronald Goldman sat in the Lazy-Boy away from the others. His position in the living room of his next-door neighbor allowed the vantage point of watching all the parties during the conversation. He knew before anyone showed up how this was going to end, but enjoyed watching the positioning and squirming on both sides of the room. Of course, setting across from the shapely legs of his dream girl, revealed pleasantly by a fairly short skirt she wore, didn’t hurt his choice of seats neither. April was again on his mind today, and the occasional glance he dared to take sent a thrill through his groin area. She was, of course, his best friends wife, and therefore untouchable. But then again, as in their childhood, he wasn’t the best looking man in the room. Not by a long shot. And because of that fact, had come to terms years ago that she would never return the yearning looks.

The largest man of the three was shifting in his seat as he tried out his rehearsed speech, which was coming out jumbled. "Pete, you know you’re the one we need to run this race. You’re the only one in the party that people recognize on a county wide basis."

Pete was leaning back comfortably on the sofa, "Why me? I have no real experience whatsoever. Being mayor of a local neighborhood where the only thing I have to worry about is who’s grass isn’t mowed doesn’t give me the ability to run a county wide government."

"Since the city-county merger," another of the three jumped in, "we haven’t had anyone in the party that has enough name recognition to go up against Fred Crowe. Except you. Every since you managed to get all the other fifth class cities to combine and defeat the residential tax hike on he tried to pass last year, you’ve been declared a saint."

"I made a few phone calls and met with a couple of people," Peter replied. "That doesn’t make me Henry Clay. Someone else would have done it if I hadn’t."

"But you’re the one that did," Ronnie added to the inductor’s cause, surprising Pete. "That makes you a rebel. People need a new leader."

"You think he should do it?" April asked, then shifted sideways and tugged her skirt down after noticing Ronnie’s gaze.

Realizing the momentary loss of control of where his eyes had strayed, Ron looked directly into Peter’s eyes and away from April. "You’ve always wanted to be in politics. Every since I can remember that was one of your dreams. Even when you took this part-time bullsh-- office I could tell how much you enjoyed it. So why not go for something you’d really get off on?"