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What Did He Do?

Esli pushed back the blanket, got out of bed, and patted the thigh of the person next to him. "I'm going," he said.

A very blonde, closely cropped head appeared from under the blanket, rubbing his eyes. The purple eye shadow, still smeared from the night before, was now even more smudged by his touch.

"Hey, but I still want to stay here." The voice was deep and raspy—yet soft and coaxing, coming from lips painted the same shade of purple.

"You can stay, but you absolutely can't leave until I leave the hotel. Once I'm out of here, you can leave. At least by noon," Esli said, putting his clothes back on.

He wore a suit and more, as he had come straight to the room last night after having dinner with some of his supporters: local businessmen and a prominent pastor from San Jose Del Castillo. He was solidifying his support for Guadalajara's southern region.

The southern region had so far remained untouched by Esli, as his votes there were minimal

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