No, Trevor wasn’t a fraud. That wasn’t the problem after all.
A different truth hit him broadside.
He was their pawn.
11
WHEN TREVOR TOOK POSSESSION of the Governor’s office, his new Chief of Staff offered advice.
“Take an hour to appreciate your new lot in life,” Andreas said. “Put your feet up. Smoke a cigar. Sip a bourbon.”
“Why?”
“After today, you’ll be too exhausted. At times, you’ll wish you’d never seen the inside of this office.”
Trevor didn’t take his advice. Time proved Andreas correct.
Now, on Day 63 of his term, Trevor asked Andreas to ensure a quiet hour. No business of any kind. He tapped into the fringe benefits of his job. He poured a glass of the most expensive bourbon in the galactic sector and wondered why Murrill didn’t abscond with it on his way out the door. He lit the fattest cigar in the office humidor.
He reclined on the couch, plopped his feet on an ottoman, and blew smoke rings.
And shut off his brain to an endless cycle of distractions. The voices of politicians, accountants, lawmen, corporate execs, and the Enzathi: Time to go away.
Trevor navigated a simpler path. He lined up selective moments – especially those he once shunted aside – and saw patterns emerge in twisting clouds of smoke.
He felt like a deputy again. Curious, tenacious, fastidious.
Focused.
Had he been a fool? Of course. He saw the clues at every turn, but the job conveyed him headlong like a train without a destination. It moved so fast, Trevor had no time to comprehend the truth.
Now, with each puff of the cigar, he found insight, shame, and a touch of helplessness.
He didn’t hear footsteps from behind but tensed when a pair of hands pressed down on his shoulders.
“Andreas told me not to enter,” Shireena said. “He insisted you wanted no visitors.”
Trevor scoffed.
“He knows you’re the exception. I’ll remind him again.”
His shoulders loosened as she dug into them.
“I haven’t seen you smoke in ages, love. What’s going on?”
“You saw what happened in there.”
“I waited outside. I expected yelling.”
Shireena joined him on the couch and sniffed the liquor.
“Bourbon from Qasi. Talk to me, Trev.”
Where to begin? The day he should’ve known all this was too good to be true? Trevor pulled on the cigar.
“My first few years as a deputy, I smoked all the time. I carried a digipipe with me. A quick puff here and there. Thought I needed it, or I’d go off the rails. I was wired. Hardly ever slept.”
“What changed?”
“Effie. Ana. I still had a short fuse, but they kept me grounded.”
She sipped the bourbon and clenched her teeth afterward.
“Quite a kick. You like this?”
“Not really. Used to drink like a madman, too. I couldn’t keep up with Connor, but I damn well tried.”
He long ago told her about his previous drinking problem, though never how bad it got.
“I’ll admit,” she said, “I was worried when you took this job. I wondered if it was smart having all these bottles so near.”
“I never drink alone. I offer my guests. If they accept, I join them. Today’s a first.”
“Why? You’re clearly not celebrating, love.”
“Huh. Maybe I am. Revelation doesn’t come along often.”
“Revelation? About what?”
