I walked into the Palm for the first time in over ten years. Five minutes early and she still beat me there.

"It's good to see you," Cassandra said, as she greeted me in the vestibule, giving me a kiss on the cheek which felt awkward and nice at the same time. I couldn't help but glance around, wonder who saw it, wonder who cared.

"You make it sound like you haven't seen me in forever," I said. "Or that you never thought you'd see me again."

"Maybe," she said and left it at that. "After you."

She laughed, as I probably looked as confused as I felt.

"I reserved under your name," she said, threading her arm though mine.

"You shouldn't have," I said, as we walked towards the host. "Really."

"Too late now," she said. "Besides, it was the only way I could get us reservations on such short notice"

"Really? I had no idea my name carried such weight." Hell, any at all.

"Can I help you?" said the host, head held high, nose turned to the ceiling, as if he needed to look at me through his nostrils.

"Yes, sir," I said. "My name is Jeffery Carter; I had..."

"Ah, yes!" he said, a fake smile spreading across his face as he sprang into action. "Mister Carter, it is a pleasure to have you in our establishment," he said, his hand shooting out to grasp mine for a shake that nearly took my arm off. "Right this way, sir, madam."

I let Cassandra follow the host, and I went behind, trying to take in as much of the place and its patronage as I could.

Still the same group of stuck up rich and powerful or those that wanted to be wining and dining in a place that cost much more than it really should have. I hated the idea of having to deal with these places on a daily basis.

"Here we are," said the host, gesturing to a table near the middle of the room and reaching to pull out Cassandra's chair. A table suspiciously well placed for all to see.

"Thank you," I said, as I sat and received the menu which had no listed prices. One of those establishments. "You'd think my name would have gotten us a little less conspicuous of a seat," I said quietly to Cassandra after the host left.

"I didn't ask for a private table, Jeffery," Cassandra said nonchalantly, as she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. "Besides, it's in their best interest to show off their clientele."

"They'd have seen me just fine being led through the place, but the middle of the room?" I said, looking around, noticing a lot of folks trying to not look like they were looking at us.

A waiter or whatever he was came up and filled our water glasses and disappeared.

Cassandra smiled, as she picked up her water and took a sip.

"Jeffery," she said as she set her glass down. "Just to give you a little advice, as someone on the media side of things, you have to have a presence in the right areas if you are going to effectively do your job."

I sighed and looked at the menu again, my stomach not agreeing with anything I saw, but I knew I had to eat something, having skipped dinner the night before.

"I know," I said. "But, I don't have to like it."

"So, how exactly did you get the job then?" she asked, as she started to look at her menu.

"It was forced on me," I said, finding some chicken dish that looked good enough.

"Couldn't you have just turned it down?"

I shook my head.

"The Mayor can be very persuasive," I said, reaching for my water and taking a sip.

"Well, you're putting on a fine show, considering you don't want to do this."

"I was raised by a diplomat," I said with a smirk. "I know how to put on a good public face."

"And, is that what this is?" Cassandra asked, a glint in her eye, in her smile. "A good public face?"

"You're the one who wanted to be seen out and about with me."

A waiter came by for our orders, took them, and disappeared, the water guy coming around shortly thereafter for refills.

"So, you said you had something for me," I said.

"My, you just get straight to business, don't you?"

"I don't like to beat around the bush."

"Hmmm..." She gave me a look like she thought I'd made a bad joke. It took me a moment to realize that maybe I had.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Sure." She smiled. "Here," she said, as she leaned over and opened her bag, coming out with a folder and handing it to me. "And the numbers and breakdowns for the poll along race, sex, and age lines, as well as driving factors in the results."

"Wow, you went whole hog."

"It's the same info we gave the media this morning, who should be crawling up your ass by now."

"Spoken like someone who's been reading my messages," I said, as I looked at the first couple sheets of the poll. Pretty thorough.

"Top part is an overall opinion of the direction of the city and the breakdown, followed by the opinions and breakdowns for individuals. You personally are the last couple of pages."

"I'll get there eventually," I said, closing the folder and setting it aside.

"I can tell you if you'd like."

"And ruin the surprise?"

"You seem to poll best among eighteen to twenty-three year-olds and people over the age of sixty."

"Best being forty percent compared to the overall thirty-five?"

"Best being that you pull forty-eight percent of the younger group and just shy of forty percent in the older."

"Really?"

"You can read it for yourself. Your problem is the other groups. You're pulled down by the thirty-to-forty year-olds who only give you twenty-four."

"So, why doesn't the Mayor appeal to these people?"

"Do I really have to tell you?"

I smirked. Fair enough.

"Why don't I?"

"Most don't know you; that's why there's a large number of undecided. But, those that do know they don't like you generally don't because of your association with the Mayor or for the same reasons they don't like the Mayor, don't trust you, don't like what they're hearing, don't see any real action, and on."

"Little I can do about that but give them time to get to know me."

"Well, your growing cooperation with the police since you came in has really helped the whole administration out."

"Really?"

"Really," said Cassandra, as she took a drink of her water. "It's the only thing that's pulled the Mayor's numbers over twenty and is the driving factor for why most folks who like you feel they can trust you."

"And, this is all before the start of yesterday's investigation?" She nodded. "Huh. But, shouldn't this be standard? I mean, working with the police and all, it should be expected."

"But, it hasn't been expected under Romanov, and people are happy to see it happening."

I sighed and shook my head.

"So, the bare minimum pleases the hell out of these people?" I asked, as I reached for my water but didn't take it, instead tapping my fingers on the stem, as I stared through the water.

"Sometimes, all the people want is the bare minimum, especially when they haven't gotten even that much in a while."

I nodded, her words voicing a thought I'd had for a while now.

"This city deserves more than the bare minimum," I said, still staring at my glass, thinking out loud. "Otherwise, what use are the heroes?"

"Are you seriously asking, or is that rhetorical?"

I looked up and saw her smile, a smile that seemed to bring me back to focus and want to change the subject.

"I've only been here once before in my life," I said, looking around the restaurant a bit for effect. Still random glances our way. Or, I was being paranoid. "I was ten or so. Dinner with one of my father's co-workers and their family. Miserable experience. Their kid was a year or so older than me and a holy terror. I mean, why do you bring a brat into a place like this when you're trying to impress a guy you work with?"

"Uh huh," Cassandra said, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, her elbow on the table, her eyes staring at me with a look that said so much and made me horribly uncomfortable in the best way possible.

"You know," I said, leaning forward. "It's rude to have your elbows on the table."

"Is it now?"

"It is."

And, we stared at each other for a bit, her with that look, me getting embarrassed by that look.

"So," I said, leaning back and fiddling with my napkin. "What exactly is it that the people want?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting upright, her look changing, as I went back to business.

"Well, the people of Pacific City aren't pleased with the way the Mayor's handling things; they must have opinions on what he could do differently. What does the city want from him?"

"Elections."

I nodded, as I grabbed my water.

"And a city council with power again."

"Another good one," I said, taking a drink and then putting my glass back down. "But, let's start with the elections: who would run? I mean, Jerrod got into office because no one trusted any of the other political hacks in this city, and no one's really come up clean enough to even begin to appeal to the people."

"It doesn't matter," Cassandra said with a slight shake of her head. "If an election were held today, Romanov would lose against any former member of the city council he disbanded."

"Any of them?"

"Well, okay, not any, but any of the ones with clout."

"Specifically Johnson, eh?" I asked, getting a hesitant nod out of her.

Frederick Johnson had run against Cliff Jerrod last election cycle and was soundly beaten after details of his connections with various questionable characters in Lorrington surfaced. Nothing really stuck, but the man was crooked as hell, and everyone believed it.

But, he was the best the city had left.

"You know who got the best numbers in a hypothetical election?"

"You're shitting me."

Her grin widened.

"I am."

"Good God," I said with a huge sigh. "Don't do that to me."

"But, I think it's a safe bet to say that, at the moment, you are the most popular person in City Hall."

"Yea, me," I said

Lunch was served.

"And, giving the city council power," I said as the waiter walked away and she picked up her utensils. "I'll see what I can do."

She paused and gave me a look with a half smirk and shake of her head.

"What, you're just going to walk in there and tell the Mayor how to run the city?"

I smiled.