Page 9 of Hidden Gem
Chapter 5
Jason cast one lastglance at the restroom mirror. Apart from the dark circles under his eyes, he looked as put together as the situation demanded. His suit had arrived from the dry cleaner’s just in time. Reporters were covering the exhibition, and they loved catching him on camera. Most of the other male politicians sported bald spots and beer guts, so they went after the younger ones, the single ones. Every photo with an unmarried female would end up on the gossip sites with speculations about a relationship.
It was all part of the deal. His career depended on the publicity, yet it felt wrong. As a high school teacher, he’d never benefited from his looks. He’d been happy to live a quiet life under the radar, but that was no longer an option.
Jason shook his head. He was here on a mission. To accomplish that, he’d smile at the camera and flirt with every other fool out there. Eventually, his hard work would pay off. Maybe sooner rather than later.
He had an inkling the Minister of Housing, Kathleen Rush, was hiding an illness. Jason had noticed the slight tremor in her hand, mood swings and moments when she seemed to lose track of the conversation. She covered it well, too well for strangers to take notice, but Jason knew Kathleen, and this wasn’t normal. So far, his only evidence came from his observations, but he couldn’t help wondering. Not that he rejoiced over anyone’s illness, but the idea of Kathleen stepping down provided an opportunity he couldn’t dismiss. As Associate Minister, he was primed to take over Kathleen’s housing portfolio, and if he did, he could finally push through the changes he’d promised his voters. Every sacrifice he’d made on the way would finally be worth it. He was young, but so was the Prime Minister. And housing was one of those hot topics nobody had real expertise on, only passion. Kathleen didn’t even have that. With her out of the way, Jason could tighten the belt on Kiwis’ love of property investing. Kathleen was driven, but biased. A housing minister with a portfolio of twenty-five investment properties couldn’t stay impartial. As a renter, Jason could at least look at the situation objectively. Most of the sitting government had a vested interest in the unstable housing market and its skyrocketing asset prices.
Jason stepped out of the bathroom and scanned the hall for Kathleen. She must have been still in the ladies’ room. Rumour had it she was able to nap on the toilet, leaning against the cubicle wall. An impressive skill, he had to admit. He would have given anything to be able to fall asleep on cue.
As he walked into the hall, Jason admired the artwork. Five large paintings hung on the banquet hall’s wall, illuminated by spotlights. The vivid strokes and colours reminded him of Khayden, the awkward preteen at a low decile school where he’d taught. Jason couldn’t remember who’d thought to give him a canvas and some paints, but they’d all been blown away by his raw talent. After that, Jason had wondered how many other gifted youngsters they’d missed. How many kids were never given a chance and went on thinking they were good at nothing?
Jason glanced at his watch. It was past eight p.m. As Minister of Culture and Heritage – one of Kathleen’s many hats – she should have been up at the podium already, to open the evening. Where was she? Was she really napping?
Jason texted her number and waited. No answer.
“Where’s Kathleen?” Malcolm made Jason jump. The middle-aged, long-term South Auckland representative stood right behind Jason. A rotund man with an appetite for anything deep fried, he should have been the one with health issues, not Kathleen.
“I think she’s still in the loo.” Jason gestured at the bathroom sign.
“Well, go get her.” Malcolm waddled away, shaking his head.
Jason huffed. He was an Associate Minister, not an assistant. But he couldn’t be too angry; Malcolm was on his side. When Jason first started as a junior MP, Malcolm had shown extraordinary patience with him, guiding him through his first weeks on duty. The big guy was probably the closest thing to a friend he had in Parliament.
Where was Kathleen’s actual assistant? That boy seemed more interested in posting on social media than assisting his minister.
Jason hurried down a side corridor to the bathrooms, wondering what to do. He couldn’t sneak into the ladies’ room with reporters roaming about. As he looked around for a solution, he noticed a woman in a figure-hugging dress. Oh God, those shiny curves. Jason quickly lifted his gaze to her eye level. Focus. He couldn’t be seen leering over anyone, especially not in a dark corridor. He’d seen what happened to those who let their guard down, thinking they were safe. There was always someone watching with a camera, and rumours spread like wildfire.
He offered a friendly smile. “Excuse me. I could use a little help.”
“Help?” The woman raised a pair of delicate eyebrows. She looked a bit lost, like she’d been dropped in front of him by a fairy godmother, dressed by the sparkly spin of a magic wand. Despite the glamour, her eyes were sincere, free of the assessing and calculating undercurrents he was used to.
Jason glanced over his shoulder, making sure they had no audience, and dropped his voice. “Do you know Minister Kathleen Rush? She’s in there, I think.” He gestured at the ladies’ room. “I can’t get hold of her, and she might not remember she’s the first speaker. Could you go in and check on her for me? Just say Jason’s outside, asking for her.”
The woman gave him an apologetic smile. “I don’t really follow politics. What does she look like?”
Jason blinked, taking in the lightly pursed lips and earnest hazel eyes. Kathleen Rush had been in the news only yesterday and her face was plastered over the news sites on a weekly basis. How could this woman not know the high-profile minister holding two major portfolios? “She’s got short, blonde hair and...” Jason thought back to when Kathleen had walked in. “She’s wearing a pantsuit.” It was an educated guess. She mostly wore pantsuits in black, or red – the official Labour Party colour.
The curvy woman gave him a slow nod and cracked the bathroom door. After peeking in, she tiptoed through the doorway as if on a secret mission. Jason couldn’t help smiling. He also couldn’t help staring at her shapely bottom moving beneath the glossy fabric. How fortunate that one dress could highlight both an incredible pair of breasts and a backside like that. His hands twitched, longing to trace the body he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
Thankfully, the soft-closing bathroom door finally shut, leaving him to gather his wits. What was happening to him? He hadn’t been this flustered in weeks. In his sleep deprived state, he could barely find energy for tying his shoelaces, but the pulsing in his trousers told him this was a special occasion.
Jason leaned on the wall, letting the delicious distraction fade into the background. He had to stay on track. This could be the turning point he’d been waiting for – the moment the great Kathleen Rush fell.
