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time, you can't even tell if Justin is listening. I know he is, I know
every fucking detail is being analyzed and stored, but you cannot see it
happening.
    "It
means we could take it back out as easily as we put it in, if you're not
interested. We helped you get elected, we'll let you keep that, but the
financing—that would be gone. But if you are interested, no one, not your wife
and kids, not your political team, no one will ever know or be affected by it. What's
more, you can continue playing, within limits of course, and we'll cover it,"
Cattie says.
    "And
senator doesn't have to be the end for you," Austin interjected.
"Think about that, Scott, think hard about that. We got you to senator
without breaking a sweat. Imagine what we can all do together. How high do you
want to go?"
    The
room fell silent.
    Lewis
has finally stopped ringing his hands. He could see the light at the end of a
very long tunnel. He leans back in his chair, blowing out a deep breath and
putting his hands on the back of his head.
    It's a
submissive gesture.
    "He's
in!" Lena says happily.
    Justin,
the crazy son-of-a-bitch, looks at the camera and winks at us, knowing we are
watching. No one there, not even the group, knows we have eyes inside. It's not
something they need to know. They need the results, not how we get them.
    "I
don't see how I can refuse," Lewis says. "But I don't see why I would
want to, either, so I'm in."
    Austin
smiled and patted Lewis on the knee, proud of his choice—just like Justin told
him to be. It was going to be much easier, for everyone, if Lewis was under the
impression he'd gotten to select his involvement.
    "So
what do we do now? How does this work?" Lewis asks.
    "First—we
drink. A little something to seal the deal," Austin says, his voice excited.
    "Hell
yes, I could use a drink!" Lewis jumps up and walks to the sideboard he
uses as a minibar, more than eager to counteract the stress of the meeting with
a double of fucking anything. The sideboard is littered with crystal bottles
and a silver shaker set, handsome glasses covering a silver tray. He pours
everyone their choice of scotch, whisky, or brandy, and they all notice his
glass is about three times deeper than any of theirs. He also finishes his
twice as fast.
    "You
have a new account," Cattie begins. She hands him a bank card, while she
takes a sip of her scotch. "No one knows about this account, keep the card
safe. You won't get any statements and you don't have online access. We'll text
you the balance info when there's changes."
    "So
this is my allowance?" he asks, a hint of discomfort obvious in his voice.
    "Think
of it as half of your new salary and you'll appreciate it better that
way," Franco says sternly. He leans forward his chair, his huge weight
balanced on its edge.
    Lewis
nods, still afraid of Franco.
    Cattie
continued, "Two-hundred thousand will be deposited on the first of each
month into that account, regardless of any balance. Play with it, buy toilet paper
with it, spend it however you want."
    Lewis
sat down, a bright smile in his eyes. It's more than he's been throwing down on
his own, much more. Not only did we take care of his current debt, but we've
given him a way to fill his need and stay out of debt while doing it. It's a
sweeter deal than he imagined.
    "You
need to mind the limit, Scott" Austin said compassionately.
    "If
you hit the limit before the next deposit—you're done for the month,"
Franco added.
    I got
nervous myself when he said that, and I'm not even there.
    "Make
sure you understand that," Franco continues. "We are watching every
other account you have and everything you might open in the future. You need to
have some control, because this isn't a game. If money starts disappearing from
any other place, we've got a problem— you've got a problem!"
    "It's
the only way we can keep you safe, Scott, and ourselves. You pull money from
someplace else again, like your campaign funds, and you get caught...we can't
risk that.