The Committee Read Free Page B

live feed from the comfort of their home was now more in love with Camille than they were on the day they cast an avalanche of votes ranking her the U.S mayor with the highest-winning margins for two consecutive terms.
    Camille stepped from behind the podium and walked to the edge of the stage headfirst into a storm of applause and cheers at the climactic conclusion. She went from one end of the stage to the other, blowing kisses to crowd and flashing the victory sign. She was a rock star and, thanks to Gideon Truman, the entire country was now watching.

    The lobby at city hall quickly filled with the same faces that Camille had just shared her vision for the future of the city with. Waiters in cinched vests and ties pirouetted among the crowd balancing trays of champagne, sparkling water, and assorted hors d’oeuvres. A circle of two-story marble pillars held a mosaic concaved ceiling arched over the who’s-who of the city. State and local politicians, deep-pocket Democratic donors, and corporate power brokers oozed from every crack in the Italian tiled floor. The mood was festive, and the smell of success and power was in the air. Camille delivered the speech that could easily catapult her to the governor’s mansion, and everyone present knew it.
    She was surrounded by a squadron of reporters, each clamoring for her attention.
    â€œMayor Hardaway, you’ve had another amazing year,” one shouted over the crowd. “What do you say to the critics who said you didn’t have enough political experience to run a city the size of Los Angeles?”
    The question caught Camille’s attention. She deemed it worthy of a response. “I’d say the facts prove they were wrong. Under my leadership Los Angeles has fully recovered from one of the worst economic downturns since the Great Depression and is now more vital and stronger financially and economically than we have ever been in our history,” she replied immodestly.
    â€œYou have one year left until you’re termed out,” another reporter shouted from the three-deep circle around her. “What are your plans after you leave office?”
    Another question warranting her attention. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I know whatever I’ll do, it will be in the service of the people of this great city and state.”
    The reporters continued peppering Camille with questions. “Do you have plans to run for governor?” a bold member of the press asked. Another called out, “Have you considered running for senator?” She took a step toward them and the corps parted as she politely replied, “As I said, I haven’t decided yet. Now if you will excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, I really must circulate. I’m neglecting my guests.”
    Camille moved from circle to circle in the room. She shook hands, signed autographs, and posed for selfies. It was her night, and she was in her element. She worked the room with the finesse and grace of a ballerina. A thousand eyes followed her every move. All observed and appreciated each toss of her hair and calculated flash of her smile.
    Gideon Truman was no exception. He had interviewed presidents, A-list celebrities, two popes, and international dignitaries, but there was something unusual about Camille Hardaway. He didn’t know exactly what. She is undeniably beautiful, he thought as he watched her from across the lobby. But that isn’t it.
    His keen reporter eyes followed her as she transitioned from one conversation to the next, leaving no one feeling snubbed or dismissed. Camille knew how and when to make enemies, but tonight wasn’t the time. It was a time to shine and to bask in the glory of her successes.
    The longer Gideon watched her, the more uneasy he grew. His stomach began to gurgle as he found himself transfixed by her every move. He couldn’t take his eyes away, even when he tried. There’s something not right about that