I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

"Mr. Gaskarth!" I growl at my secretary, jerking my coffee from his hands. "What in God's name took you so long to get me a cappuccino?!" I snap, taking a drink of the lukewarm caffeine and setting it on my desk with more force than was probably necessary, but at the moment, I couldn't care less. I am the mayor. I must show my power to lead over my lessers at all times.
"I-I'm sorry, sir," He looks so ashamed. I hope he doesn't start crying, his tears might get on some important papers I've got on my desk. "I wasn't paying attention, and I tripped and spilled your drink the first time around. Then, I had to go back and get some more, and by then, it was getting a bit crowded."
Sighing deeply, as if his less than impressive excuse pained me physically, I scold him once more on staying caught up with his paperwork and then dismiss the thoroughly embarrassed twenty year old from my office.
Honestly, how hard can it be to file a few police reports? A felony occurs near daily in Baltimore, despite the fact that it's a metropolis for superheroes and sidekicks of all kinds. Humph. Then again, there's only so much buff me in spandex can do these days in my town.
Yes, MY town. If we're being truthful here, this town would be nothing without me. I'm glad the old mayor kicked the bucket all those years ago, and my campaign had so little real opposition (mostly lazy criminals trying to weasel their way in). I'm convinced only I know what's best for Baltimore. I grew up here, after all. I saw the rise of heroes and villains (and everything in between), the crime rate drop, then rise again. And now that I've abolished term limits for the position of mayor, there's no stopping me. I may have fixed the votes, sure, but hey! Newsflash. Politics are corrupt all over. I'm only doing this because I know what's best for my city. There's nothing wrong with stepping outside the law to do that. If I didn't, we'd have bastard villains like The Wrathful Heart running us into ruins.
The Wrathful Heart. His name alone is enough to make half of the men on the force ( including police chief Ramsay) shudder. His rap sheet is a mile long, at least. In the month Mr. Gaskarth has been my secretary, he's committed 3 robberies and 2 attempted break ins, including an attempt at stealing some extremely important files from my office that would uncover my dirty politics if released to the media, and no doubt get me impeached. Which I can never allow to happen. It's become a personal crusade of mine to get him unmasked and locked up for good. He obviously has some kind of grudge against me, and I'm not surprised. I've made plenty of enemies in my 4 years as mayor, and my sacrificial decisions when it comes to dire situations have caused many deaths, but not without cause, mind you. Some people just refuse to see that.
The phone on my desk beeps, little red light telling me Alex has a call for me to take. "Um, sir? A Mr. O' Callaghan is calling."
"Ah, perfect. I was expecting his call. Thank you, Mr. Gaskarth." I say pleasantly.
"Just doing my job, sir." The boy answers dutifully, and connects me to Mr. John Oh, a childhood friend currently teaching music at a high school in the Towson district. (An idle career, if you ask me, but John's never been ambitious.)
"Hey, Derek! How are you, man? I haven't seen you in ages!"
I fight back a grin, and the urge to question whether or not a teacher should be saying things like, "dude," and, "man." "John. It feels like it's been forever. What do you say we go out for a few drinks this Friday?"
"Sounds great, bro! You know me, I'm always up for alcohol!"
We talk for a few minutes more, ironing out the details of our meeting up and catching up on each others lives.
"Wow, mayor, huh? Mayor Sanders. Maaayor Saaaandeeers. Hm. Not too bad. I always knew you were going places, ever since I saw you crying on that swing set when we were five."
I laugh, shaking my head in half amusement, half astonishment. "You live in a suburb of Baltimore, and you didn't hear when your close childhood friend became mayor of said town?"
Even though we're apart, I can see that clueless shrug in my mind. "I don't pay attention to politics, dude! Besides, we haven't talked since I moved here for my teaching job five years ago."
I grip the phone tighter. "Yeah...," I mumble.
"Hey, no hard feelings, friend! You were probably just busy with all the busy politics stuff!"
His words lighten my mood. I genuinely missed him all these years, it's just like John said. I was so busy. Working your way up the ladder of local government isn't as easy as it sounds.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I've got to go now. See you Friday?"
After John and I hang up, I get to work, looking at a few bills I need to veto or approve. A few hours later, Mr. Gaskarth's voice comes over the intercom, sounding suspiciously giddy, "Your 4 o'clock is here, Mr. Sanders."
I set papers aside, sighing in slight relief. "Very well, Mr. Gaskarth. Let him in."
Mere seconds after the words leave my lips, the door is smoothly sliding open to reveal the very last person I had hoped to see today. "Ah, Mr. Barakat, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I say, holding out a hand to shake and smiling tightly.
The grungy mechanic cleans up nicely, I'll give him that. A suit, tie, and aromatic cologne fits the dark haired man quite well. Maybe if he bothered to step out of that dank garage once in a while, he'd be able to see that. He grabs my hand, and I internally wince. That was a formality, not an invitation.
Sitting down at the chair in front of my desk, Barakat smiles evenly. "I think you know full well why I'm here, Mayor Sanders."
I sighed. "And I think you know there's nothing I can do about your wife's death, Mr. Barakat. The matter was settled in court months ago. The settlement was two million dollars. Now, if that is all, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.
Anger floods his eyes. "You think the love of my life, my daughter's mother, was worth two million dollars?" Mr. Barakat hisses. The man always was quick to anger.
Looking at him with a bored expression, I state, "My value of human life has nothing to do with this, sir. I do believe, however, that matters settled in civil court six months ago should not be an issue today." Go home already. I don't care about your stupid wife.
"Fine. Unlike some of the people around here, I am a man of reason." Mr. Barakat says angrily, and goes to exit my office as quickly as he entered it.
"What do you want from me, anyway?" I muse. "An apology?"
Hand on the doorknob out, the man turns to look at me. "I want you to pay, sir. And not with the money you've got. You can throw away two million dollars as easily as you threw away Jessica." Then, he's gone.
An odd one, that Jack Barakat.