Page 7 of Reptile Dysfunction

I shake my head and laugh. “You take care. Watch where you’re going. Bella! How are you?”

Belladonna, a tall wisp of a human woman, glides towards me. No one here is quite sure what her story is, but we like her just fine.

“Mayor Wendall, just the man I was looking for.” She places a hand on my chest and looks up at me with deadly serious brown eyes. “I was walking through the park’s rose garden, and you will not believe what I witnessed.”

I raise my eyebrows, expecting to hear about some juvenile shenanigans. “What did you see?”

“A pink rose. Pink! Can you believe it? In those beautiful black rose bushes. How did this happen?”

I take Belladonna’s hands in mine and nod my head in understanding. “I can see how that would be distressing to you, yes. But the pixies were insistent on adding a little more color to the garden.”

“Ha! They want more color? Black is all the colors! What more could they want? You shouldn’t let them walk, or I guess fly, all over you like that.”

“If this is bothering you that much, you should come to the bi-weekly town meetings where we make these decisions. I’m sure the gardener would be open to hearing this criticism.”

Bella’s eyes somehow go wider at the insinuation. The gardener in question is an old, grouchy forest troll. He does a fantastic job, but he is most certainly not open to constructive criticism of his work. The pixies did a great job of making him think the pink was his idea, though.

“You know, maybe a little more color is good for the town. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Have a good day!” Belladonna waves and glides off anxiously.

I walk towards the garden to take a look for myself. Indeed, there is one single pink rose among the many black and purple ones, with more budding up.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Mayor,” a tiny and chipper voice calls to me. I look down to see Mrs. Murphy, the much more pleasant half of the couple.

“Good afternoon. Thank you again for the mushroom pie last week. It was an enormous hit with the office. I’ll get that pie dish back to you soon.”

Mrs. Murphy giggles in delight. “Now don’t you worry about that, I have twenty more in my kitchen. Besides, it’s the least I could do for you after resolving that little… issue with my husband.”

I smile and nod, remembering how Mr. Murphy tried to build a squirrel condo in his neighbor's tree. Apparently, his idea was to charge them rent in acorns. Regardless, that made it a business, and you can’t run a business on someone else’s property without their consent.

“I’m just happy when everyone else is happy.”

“And he is! I haven’t seen Mr. Murphy this happy since… oh, I don’t know when! Letting him install his squirrel condo in your backyard was just the sweetest compromise. I hope they aren’t causing you any trouble?”

“Oh, none at all,” I lie. They’re an absolute terror but still much less of a nuisance than Mr. Murphy.

Mrs. Murphy pats me on the knee and smiles. “I don’t know what this town would do without you,” she says.

I thank her and make my way back to my office. Hearing her say that turns my whole day back around. It’s people like her, like Mrs. Murphy and Fred and Belladonna, who make this town so special to me. I would never do anything to lose their trust or compromise the town. It’s far too precious to me.

And I know in time, the new reporter in town will understand that, too.

5

CHARLOTTE

I sigh in my hands, let out a low and quiet groan, and run my fingers through my hair. Before me is the exact same computer, bearing the exact same article I’ve been staring at for the better part of an hour. It’s the best I can do to meet my deadline, but it’s not the story I know I can write.

I’ve been digging up dirt on the mayor of this town for weeks, and still I’ve found nothing. Not even dirt! This man’s image is nearly squeaky clean, and there’s nothing more suspicious than that. Everyone in politics has something going on. Bribery, nepotism, quid pro quo. There has to be something here, yet somehow the harder I look, the further I feel I’m getting from the truth.

It doesn’t help that in my research, I’ve come to realize Mayor Wendall is a very attractive man. That first blurry photo I found of him, it turns out, was doing him no favors. I find myself getting distracted by every picture I see of him, even though grainy black-and-white newspaper photos are hardly the most flattering. It doesn’t matter. The man could have been a movie star instead of a politician.

So here I am. My deadline is in two minutes, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. I sigh again, blowing strands of hair from my face, and hit send on the email. The draft article I just sent to the editor sucks. I know it sucks, he’s going to know it sucks, but it’s all I’ve got.

My hope is that someone will read it who knows more, or at least where to point me. And then I’ll finally be on Wendall’s trail. I’m starting to suspect that the fact that he’s gorgeous is at least part of why everyone seems to have fallen for his charms and is so willing to cover up any scandal. But until someone decides to speak up and help me out? Simply insinuations and grasping at straws.

Anything is better than nothing, I guess.

“Hey.” My office door opens and the intern, Jeff, is standing there and looking at me like I should know why he’s here.

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