Chapter Text
Working as a janitor at City Hall wasn’t exactly exciting.
It was monotonous, repetitive, and physically exhausting. The cleaning bucket always smelled faintly of chemicals, the mop left her arms aching by the end of every shift, and one of the wheels on her cleaning cart was crooked—the kind that squeaked incessantly and refused to move in a straight line no matter how hard you tried.
Still, if anyone had asked Olivia Hart what the worst part of working at City Hall was, she would’ve had an answer ready.
Jerry Generazzo.
Now, Olivia had never been particularly interested in politics. Not because she hated it, exactly. She just didn’t care enough to pay attention. Jerry Generazzo, however, was a completely different matter.
There was something about him that made her want to bang her head against the nearest wall.
Maybe it was the way he always looked so perfectly put together. Maybe it was that infuriatingly polished smile. Maybe it was the excessive politeness that felt just a little too rehearsed. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he carried himself with the confidence of a man who had never once doubted he was the smartest person in the room.
Whatever the reason, Olivia had never bought into the whole Mayor Jerry act. Not for a second.
The resentment she felt toward him had become almost methodical over the years. She’d cultivated it carefully, like a particularly stubborn houseplant, nurturing it through two full years of employment at City Hall.
The job itself was far from her dream career. Still, it paid well enough. She had a small house on the outskirts of town, enough freedom to support herself, and, perhaps most importantly, no one seemed particularly interested in telling her how she should look.
Not that she pushed her luck too much.
Most days she simply wandered the halls with her headphones on, humming along to old songs and wearing mismatched socks that nobody ever noticed. She collected strange hair clips the way some people collected stamps, and on colder days she wrapped herself in bright scarves that stood out against the sea of neutral-colored suits and sensible shoes.
She was, in every conceivable way, a splash of color in a building that seemed determined to remain beige.
Of course, all of that monotony brought her mind back to the root of her stress:
Him.
Olivia hadn’t really disliked him for months. Or even a year. No, her grudge against Jerry Generazzo was older than that. It had roots. History. A carefully curated collection of grievances dating all the way back to her first week at City Hall. Back then, she’d been twenty-one, painfully optimistic, and trying very hard not to look terrified.
Beaverton had never been part of the plan.
She’d come there through a study abroad program while pursuing a degree in Visual Arts, hoping to focus on environmental design and natural landscapes. It had felt like the beginning of something exciting.
Then the funding ran out.
Life, as it often did, had other ideas. Suddenly, she found herself stranded halfway across the country from home with rent to pay, groceries to buy, and a rapidly shrinking bank account.
The janitorial position at City Hall had arrived at exactly the right time. So she’d taken it. And she’d actually been excited. She remembered walking through those halls on her first day, smiling at everyone she passed, introducing herself to people whose names she’d forgotten five minutes later, convinced she was about to start an entirely new chapter of her life.
That was also the day she met Jerry Generazzo. Or rather, Mayor Jerry Generazzo.
The Jerry Generazzo.
The one everyone talked about.
The one everyone adored.
The one who apparently cured diseases, rescued kittens, and personally hung the moon, if local opinion was anything to go by.
At least, that was how people spoke about him.
Olivia had been curious. Unfortunately, curiosity had ruined her life. She’d spotted him exiting a meeting surrounded by city officials and council members. The group was discussing a nature park near the reserve—attendance was dropping, volunteer participation was declining, and apparently nobody could agree on what to do about it.
Olivia had lingered nearby longer than she probably should have. Listening. Thinking. And when the conversation finally ended and most of the group dispersed, she’d done something brave, or stupid. Possibly both.
She approached him. Tentatively. Nervously. And offered a suggestion.
-Why don’t you hold an event there? - she’d said. - A community clean-up. Local artists, live music, food vendors… Make people fall in love with the place again.
She still remembered how hopeful she’d felt saying it. Jerry had looked at her. Frowned slightly. And replied with three easy words.
“It’s not feasible.”
Then he’d walked away. Just like that. No discussion. No questions. No follow-up.
Three words.
Olivia had stood there staring after him. Embarrassed. Frustrated. Ridiculous. But she probably would’ve gotten over it eventually. The real problem came a month later.
Because suddenly everyone in town was talking about an upcoming event at that very same park. A community event with local artists, music, food vendors…. everything.
The exact event she’d suggested. The event she’d been told wasn’t feasible. The event she’d been told wouldn’t work. The event everyone was suddenly calling brilliant. And somehow, despite the fact that she’d been standing right there when the idea was born, nobody seemed aware of that little detail.
From that point forward, every time someone praised one of Mayor Generazzo’s brilliant initiatives, Olivia found herself resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Because, really.
Coming up with great ideas wasn’t nearly as impressive when someone else had already done the hard part for you.
The train of thought was progressing quite nicely, actually. Olivia had been halfway through mentally listing all the reasons Jerry Generazzo was insufferable when she heard footsteps echoing across the marble floor. Those footsteps.
She would’ve recognized those footsteps anywhere. Unfortunately. Her head lifted automatically. And there he was. Of course. Perfectly put together as always.
Impeccable shirt.
Impeccable tie.
Impeccable expression.
As if he’d been assembled in a laboratory specifically for political campaigns.
Great. Speak of the devil.
Jerry stopped beside her in front of the elevator. Silence. Olivia fixed her attention on the floor numbers above the doors with remarkable dedication. Perhaps if she ignored his existence hard enough, he would eventually cease to exist. One could dream.
-Good morning, Olivia. - Of course he knew her name. Damn it.
-Morning.
Another stretch of silence followed. She could feel him standing beside her. Polite. Organized. Infuriating.
-The elevator’s still slow, - he remarked. Olivia crossed her arms.
-I think it knows it works for the government.
For one glorious second, she felt very pleased with herself. Jerry glanced at the display panel.
-Hm.
That was it. Just hm. No smile. No reaction.
Not even the slightest acknowledgment of what was, objectively, an excellent joke.
Unbelievable.
The elevator doors finally began to slide open. At last. Then a voice exploded from the other side.
-THIS IS RIDICULOUS!
Olivia blinked. The doors opened completely. And chaos stepped out. A brown-haired woman emerged from the elevator with all the subtlety of a natural disaster, immediately pointing an accusatory finger at Jerry. Behind her, two aides wore the haunted expressions of people who would rather be literally anywhere else.
-You’re not listening to anyone! - the woman snapped.
-I heard exactly what you had to say, - Jerry replied, sounding visibly exhausted.
-Then why do you keep making terrible decisions?
To Olivia’s surprise, something dangerously close to joy stirred inside her.
Oh my God. Someone was arguing with him. Out loud. Inside City Hall. This was better than television.
The woman continued advancing toward him, apparently unwilling to let either distance or common sense interfere with her momentum. Jerry dragged a hand down his face. For a brief moment, Olivia found herself struck by a strange thought.
He looked tired. Not tired in the ordinary sense. Not the kind of exhaustion caused by too little sleep or too many meetings. Something deeper than that.
The sort of weariness that came from having the same argument over and over again, long after both sides had stopped expecting to change the other’s mind. Which was irritating. People weren’t supposed to look human when you disliked them.
Still in the elevator, the two aides exchanged a silent look. One suddenly became very interested in checking his watch. The other appeared fascinated by a section of ceiling that had presumably been there for years.
Cowards.
Olivia turned her attention back to Jerry. Waiting. For an argument. A rebuttal. Anything. Instead, she witnessed something far more interesting.
Jerry glanced at the elevator. The doors were still open. Patiently waiting. Then he looked back at the woman.
Something shifted. It was subtle. Barely noticeable. A tiny change in expression. But Olivia would’ve sworn she saw the exact moment he gave up. Like someone standing in the middle of a storm, realizing that no amount of umbrellas was going to keep them dry.
A sigh escaped him. Slow. Resigned. Then, without a word, he stepped away from the elevator.
Olivia blinked. The woman blinked too. For a brief moment, they looked equally confused. Jerry, however, seemed to have made a decision. No rush. No visible irritation. No attempt to end the conversation. He simply turned around and started walking down the hallway. The woman stared after him. Processing. Then her expression transformed from indignation to absolute horror.
-Oh, no.
Olivia quickly lowered her head to hide the smile threatening to appear. Because that was, without question, a tactical retreat.
The woman immediately hurried after him. Still talking. Still arguing. Still existing at a volume that could probably be heard from the opposite side of the building.
Jerry didn’t speed up. Didn’t slow down either. He simply kept walking with the quiet determination of a man who had already accepted his fate.
Olivia watched the little procession make its way down the corridor. The woman gesturing dramatically. Jerry pretending not to hear her. The aides following behind with the weary expressions of men being paid exactly enough to tolerate the situation. It was, without a doubt, the most entertaining thing she’d witnessed all week.
Possibly all month.
By the time Jerry finally reached his office, Olivia almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The woman was still talking when he opened the door. Still talking when he stepped inside. And somehow still talking when the door closed firmly behind him.
The silence that followed felt strange.
Abrupt.
Incomplete.
For several seconds, the woman remained frozen in place, staring at the dark wooden door. As though sheer determination might allow her to burn a hole straight through it. Then she released a disbelieving breath. Spun around. And found herself face-to-face with Olivia.
The two women stared at each other. Olivia rested her arms on the handle of her mop. The stranger crossed hers. Then, with all the exasperation of someone who had just lost a deeply personal battle against an immovable brick wall, she asked:
-Can you believe that guy?
Olivia glanced toward the closed office door one last time. Then back at the woman. And for the first time that morning, she smiled.
Maybe this woman was completely insane. But she was, without question, the most interesting person to walk into City Hall in a very long time.