Page 82 of Hidden Gem
He’d have to leave town and hide somewhere. How long would it take? A year? Ten years? How inflated was his ego that he even worried about that? Jason contemplated pulling his hood up, but that would likely just attract more attention. He wasn’t trying to rob the cafe. The sun was already up, heating the pavement, caressing his shoulders with warmth that reminded him of Marnie.
In all fairness, everything reminded him of Marnie. She was all softness and sincerity. Most people had a hard edge that become more pronounced during hard times. Marnie was different. Even as she’d told him she couldn’t see him, she’d done it with such tenderness it nearly killed him. Longhand, on proper stationary. Sure, she was scared and deluded, blind to her own worth, but her love was real.
Jason shivered despite the sunshine, trying to swallow the tightness in his throat. Marnie was for real, and she would come through. Maybe he was the deluded one, but he had to hang on to the hope. If he only stayed alive, if he waited, she would find a way back to him. She’d come and save him.
Jason entered the cafe, and the buzz of conversation stilled as people turned to look at him. To escape the attention, he took out his phone. On its last three percent of battery and still on silent from the previous night, it showed three missed calls. As he stared at the screen, a fourth one popped up. Tracy, his assistant. He answered.
Her breathless voice gave him anxiety. “Where are you? Can you get here?”
“The office? It’s Sunday.”
Tracy let out an exasperated sigh. “I know. They tried to call you, then they ordered me to find you. An emergency meeting in the PM’s office. Really hush-hush, by the sound of it.”
“Kathleen?”
“That was my first thought, too. I don’t know.” Tracy’s voice was low, others must have been listening in on the call.
“Okay, I’ll be there in five.”
Jason ended the call and abandoned his place in the queue, relieved to get away from the prying eyes. His mind ran ahead of him as he rushed down the street towards the Beehive. The building always reminded him of the Colosseum. A ruin.
At the doors, Jason checked his attire. He was way too casual, but it didn’t really matter. Not for what he was about to do.
He made his way through security and down the hallways to the meeting room. As he opened the door and slipped inside, five frowning faces greeted him. What happened to smiles and hellos? When had this become his new normal? Malcolm arrived right behind Jason, and they took seats around the oblong table.
Malcolm glared at him. “Nice hoodie.”
The PM gave him a sharp look. “We can discuss Jason’s outfit later. First, we have to figure out what to do with the housing portfolio.”
“Housing? What’s happened to Kathleen?” Malcolm asked.
The PM addressed the whole table. “She was hospitalised yesterday. She nearly burned down her house. They suspect dementia. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow. If not sooner. We have to make a move, show everyone it’s under control.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “We need a bold move, so it doesn’t look like we’re just putting a plaster on it. Or worse, like we’re drowning here.”
“Which we are,” Rachel confirmed. Her face told everyone this was a PR nightmare. “Any other portfolio would have been fine, but housing is such a hot potato. If it looks like we’ve been brushing Kathleen’s health concerns under the rug and letting someone who’s not well look after housing issues during a housing crisis—”
“Thank you, Rachel. We get the picture. Right now, it’s just a house fire. We might be able to keep the health questions out of it for a bit longer.” The PM’s voice was weary.
Jason saw the dark circles under her eyes from across the table. Was she sleeping okay? He didn’t know how she handled the stress she was under.
“I agree with Malcolm,” she continued. “An interim solution could be to place someone like Tegan to take over housing, but that will look bad. He has too much on his plate. Like Rachel said, it will look like we don’t care. Whereas, if we go for someone new, like an Associate Minister”—she eyeballed Jason—“it’ll be seen as risk-taking.”
Tegan huffed at the mention of his name, but kept his mouth shut.
Jason swallowed as everyone turned to look at him. Risk-taking indeed. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. His goals and dreams were all on a tray in front of him. And he no longer wanted any of them.
Malcolm’s giant hand landed on his shoulder, showing his support. “I’d take that gamble. He’s got the youth vote, the Millennials... Jason’s the future.” The big man had been in his corner from the start. Jason nearly chocked on a sudden wave of remorse.
He stood up, nodding at the Prime Minister. “I appreciate your confidence, but I can’t in good conscience even entertain the idea. I’ve deceived all of you. My law degree is fake. I didn’t write my own thesis. It’s been eating me up for a while now. I can’t sleep. I’m not well.”
Five mouths opened simultaneously, a school of aquarium fish at feeding time. The PM was the first to find her voice. “What are you saying? Are you—”
“Please accept my resignation.”
A collective gasp travelled across the room.
Jason pulled out the letter he’d carried in his bag for nearly two weeks, one he’d drafted after leaving the lighthouse and later printed in the office. He hadn’t been sure if he could actually hand it in but having it there had made him feel better. An exit strategy. Well, not a strategy. He was running away, leaving everyone else to clean up the mess. But damn if his soul didn’t feel a whole lot lighter.
