by Jonathan Sadler

Created on: June 15, 2009

She slid into the Lincoln and gently tugged the door closed. They were out off the beaten path, in the gravel lot that leads down to the river. Not a soul was in sight, but she still was nervous about what she was about to do. It was summertime in Rockwater, Virginia. The temperature hovered around 90 degrees and the humidity was in the upper 80's. She had sweat beading up around the base of her neck, along the front of her chest.

When she sat in the passenger seat a cold blast of air hit her head-on and sent a chill through her. Rolley was there behind the steering wheel with the big wide bright smile. He had one of those fake smiles, one that had been created by a dentist and was whiter than piano keys. His leathery brown tanned skin only made them seem more white. His gold locks, also fake, were pulled back to one side of his face. He wore a silly looking Hawaiian shirt and shorts that were too short for it. "Hi dawlin', glad you come to see me. I think we gonna be able to work together quite nicely."

Lavonda had never imagined herself in quite this situation. In fact, one of the biggest points of her platform was to finally rid Rockwater of the silly small dollar corruption that had made the headlines for years. Yet, after finding just how hard it was to run a successful campaign for Council, and finding how many bedfellows it took to make the vote, she sat there in the old cream colored Lincoln ready to sell her soul to the devil for a measly $1400.

The votes for the development were just about lined up. Two more people were needed, only one after Lavonda took the 14 crisp bills from Rolley's hand. Passage was in sight, as was a cool cash cow that projected to put 146 condos, 14 retail stores and a restaurant right there on the river bank about a half mile from where they sat. Rockwater had nothing like it. Though people had admired the view from the river banks for years, no one had the balls to put it all together and make a go of it. Before now.

Lavonda knew that the deal would provide some short term releif and at least a hundred construction jobs. She also knew it would provide a foothold for the one major developer to come into town and start making it his own. What she didn't know was that Rolley's coke can, perched harmlessly in the cup holder on the driver's side had a Patriot 112-A recorder and transmitter and that it was audio and video taping the whole cheap, self aggrandizing, and disgusting conversation. And she sure as hell didn't know who was watching.

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