The Puppet Master

“Right this way, sir.”

Mayor Calvin Greene followed the hostess to the private back room of the sushi restaurant. The room was dimly lit with no windows, so even though it was only late afternoon the darkness gave the illusion of a later hour. A more appropriate time for monsters to emerge.

A man in his sixties wearing a well tailored suit and designer shoes sat at one of the tables holding a set of silver chopsticks in his hand. “Welcome, Mister Mayor,” he said as he gestured to the seat across from his own. Then he looked beyond Calvin to the two members of his security detail that stood a couple feet behind him. “Private conversation, boys. Have a seat in the main room and enjoy some tempura, on the house.”

Calvin looked over his shoulder and nodded. As his security departed he settled into his seat. He stared at the man across from him, Peter Trumble, richest man in the city who had people in his pockets from the homeless guy on the corner to…, well, the mayor. He was fit and handsome. His full head of gray hair was sculpted with hair gel into a pompadour. He didn’t look like a monster, but appearances could be deceiving.

Mr. Trumble looked at his watch, a large expensive one. “You’re late, Mister Mayor.”

“My apologies, Mr. Trumble. It was not my intent to keep you waiting. We were delayed in leaving City Hall.”

“Would that delay have anything to do with reporters and paparazzi, Mister Mayor?”

Calvin tried not to react but could feel himself wince slightly at the memory of camera flashes, jabbing microphones, and shouted questions. Not questions, accusations.

“You said you could stay clean, Calvin,” Mr. Trumble said placidly. “Claimed there would be no relapse.”

“I know. I know! I made a mistake. It was one moment of weakness.” It was the truth. He’d been clean for years. There were hard days, but he’d never truly considered giving in. Not until that night. The debate had gone so badly and he’d felt miserably low. And out of nowhere he’d run into Cleo of all people and his old dealer had supplied him free of charge. He didn’t know how it had gotten out or where the photo had come from but things were bad. He’d suffered a massive drop in the polls. The word “investigation” kept buzzing in his ears. “We have to do something.”

“We?”

“Please, Mr. Trumble. With your help this could all disappear. I know I’ve been a fool, but if this blows over, I know I can still win.”

“You?”

Calvin stared at Mr. Trumble in confusion.

“There is no “we”, Mister Mayor. Not anymore. You broke a promise and I don’t align myself with men who’ve shown themselves to be weak. And “you”. You didn’t win the last election of your own accord and you never will. The only reason you have this position is because I wanted you to have it. But I like nice things, Mister Mayor. And I have no interest in playing with a damaged and dirty puppet when I can have a shiny new one.” He plucked a piece of sushi from the plate in front of him with his chopsticks and brought it to his mouth. “Time for some fresh meat.” He plopped the piece into his mouth and began to chew.

Desperate rash thoughts began rushing through Calvin’s head. When a waitress appeared to bring Mr. Trumble a drink, Calvin grasped one of the metal chopsticks from his place setting in his hand. His own security was still outside and Mr. Trumble’s were nowhere to be seen.

Mr. Trumble gave the waitress a nod and she left the table.

“This is everything I’ve worked for my whole career, my whole life, Mr. Trumble. I’m not going to stand by and watch it slip away. I should have never gotten involved with your schemes.”

“Well, Mister Mayor, I can promise you this. You won’t have to watch anything slip away. Can’t just cut your strings and have loose ends, you see.”

It took only a second for the threat to sink in. No time to hesitate. Calvin gripped the chopstick and lunged, but Mr. Trumble dodged his swing and Calvin felt the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

Mr. Trumble chuckled and tugged on his suit jacket. His hair was still perfectly arranged. Not a single piece had come loose from its gelled cage in the scuffle. “Sit down, Mister Mayor.”

Calvin sank in defeat. And the gun wielder moved to his side, sliding the barrel along his scalp. The waitress. She’d never left and that nod hadn’t been a “thank you.” Calvin should have known. Mr. Trumble didn’t go anywhere that wasn’t under his control. You don’t need a security guard when the city crawls with your minions. He heard footsteps as more people entered the back room.

“Is the fish delivery truck still out back?” Mr. Trumble asked.

“Yes, sir,” replied a husky male voice.

“Excellent, we’ve got a catch to throw back.”

Pain exploded in Calvin’s head and everything went black.

***

When Calvin came to his head was throbbing and it was dark. There were lights far below him. No, not lights, reflections of lights. A breeze was blowing. His arms were suspended above his head and his ankles secured to something below.

“Alright, cut him loose,” someone whispered.

There was a sudden snipping sound and he was falling toward the reflections and watery darkness.

***

“Here you go, sir,” Mr. Trumble’s secretary said as she handed him the newspaper.

“Thank you, Cleo,” Mr. Trumble replied.

He glanced disinterestedly at the front page, knowing exactly what it would say:

SHOCKING SUICIDE: MAYOR JUMPS OFF BRIDGE

Author's Note: This was written for the second round of the 2024 NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge. My assignment included the following: Genre - Drama, Location - A sushi restaurant, Object - Hair Gel

My first round piece for this NYC Midnight challenge is linked below: