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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title"> Darren McKinley</span></span>
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</div><br/><i>Young. Handsome. Successful.</i><b>Chaotic</b>.. all were words that the media used to define thirty-six year old Darren McKinley. He was the youngest elected official his respective state had ever seen and a lot of his success had to do with his wit and charisma. He was appropriately nicknamed<i>'Slick'</i>in light of his smooth conversational skills and uncanny ability to sway a room in his favor. Of course, it didn't hurt that he had a seemingly endless supply of money funded by some relatively unknown investors. Many people believed in him, and for good reason too. He'd climbed higher than anyone else his own age and displayed the raw talent to not only survive, but to thrive in the tumultuous career that is politics. The sky was the limit for this young man and only he could stop himself, and therein lay his problem.<br/><br/>His questionable character had been brought up on more than one occasion. It was his competitions only<i>real</i>way to get at him without grasping for straws. He was young and he liked to indulge a little -- a lot. Fast cars, faster women and booze. For as composed and collected as he was in the view of the public eye, he was equally known for his scandalous nights out on the city. Darren was no stranger to high dollar escort girls, in fact, they frequented his hotel rooms, sometimes in droves or two and even three.<br/><br/>There was an incident that happened. It was bad. He was drunk and speeding down the interstate. He had a girl with him, half of her was in the passenger seat, the other half in his lap, lips stretched wide over his girth. The goal was for her to get him off before he hit 100 mph. He hit 140 when the police clocked him. Later drug and alcohol tests would reveal that he had been twice over the legal alcohol limit and also that his blood contained high traces of cocaine at the time of his accident and subsequent arrest. When he was detained, his supporters had to pay a ridiculous sum of money to make it go away, and for the most part it did, though, he did lose a huge investor. They labeled him reckless and too much of a hazard to financially back anymore, which is why he found himself in his current situation.<br/><br/>Finding a new backer was of the utmost importance if he wanted to make a serious push in the next election and with any luck at all, the fruits of his labor would be harvested over the course of this<i>vacation</i>.<br/><br/>-------------<br/><br/>Darren was shaken awake by the feeling of the plane trudging through a dense pocket of air as it descended towards the landing strip carved out below them. He was immediately alert and his hands quickly gripped the seat belt, already connected around his waist, and pulled it tight before clutching onto the armrests at his side, fingers denting into the coarse fabric of them. He hated flying with a passion and would have chosen a different route had he not been so strapped on time. A nice cruise to the island would have been ideal, but cruises were relaxing and when one fucked up as bad as he did, they didn’t have the luxury of relaxing. The island was somewhere in the Caribbean. It was a small one that was essentially off the grid to<i>civilians</i>and reserved for only the most powerful of people. It was his best chance and righting the ship he had so easily popped holes in the side of. Darren was sinking, that much was certain, but he refused to drown.<i>That</i>was something that he couldn’t accept.<br/><br/>He stepped off of the plane, carry-on bag in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He was checking e-mails and responding to the few text messages he had. Sure, he could have paid to be able to use the WiFi on the plane but he liked the concept of being somewhere he couldn’t be reached. The sense of a lack of responsibilities was alluring and ultimately became the deciding factor in him not paying for the service. There was no time to dally though and he quickly made his way through the terminal. Darren was meeting somebody; a man that had shown interest and decided to look past any shortcomings or problems that backing a man like Darren McKinley may pose. He needed to make a good impression and the first thing that people looked for, when evaluation another person, was their appearance. That was why he had taken the time to get his hair cut and beard lined up just before leaving for the trip. His suit was dry cleaned and pressed, it fit him perfectly and the dull blue of it looked good on his skin.<br/><br/>He quickly moved through the airport, occasionally checking his watch as if he were trying to stay on schedule. He<i>was</i>, but he had more than an hour to spare. Once outside of the terminal, he waved down a car, it was a black SUV with dark, tinted windows. Darren climbed into the back of it and tucked the suitcase behind the seat. “Where we off to?” The man up front had asked. “Uhm,” Darren’s voice trailed off as he reached into the breast pocket of his dress coat. He pulled out a billfold and peeled back a few hundred, passing it up to the man. “The Hilton. I want you to drive me around for the week. If you<i>do</i>then there will be plenty more where that came from. So long as you’re dependable. You’re dependable, friend, aren’t you?” The man up front rubbed the bills through his thumb and forefinger, a smile growing bigger and bigger on his fat face. “Oh, yes sir!” He exclaimed and slammed the SUV into drive. “I appreciate it, chief.” Darren said. It was a generic greeting that he used for people less important than he that he couldn’t care to remember the name of. He looked through the glass of the back window and watched at the paradise he found himself in raced by his window.<br/><br/>The hotel room was nice,<i>very nice</i>. It was a suite located on one of the top floors of the building. It was more than a room; it felt more like an apartment or a condo and the price reflected. It came with a fully stocked wet bar, kitchen, king sized bed and all of the luxuries that one would expect there to be in a hotel room such as that. He had no time to dally though. He checked his watch and realized that his ‘money’ would be arriving soon. Darren took a couple shooters and swallowed them down, one after the other in an attempt to dull the edge he currently had. Then he looked himself over in the mirror and stepped out into the elevator that was located in his room. It went down to the floor beneath his where there were more elevators that had other room numbers on there. There were 4 in total: His and three other guests rooms and then the community elevator that went down to the rest of the hotel. He exited that one in the lobby and made his way towards the doors. People were buzzing about but he was focused on the task at hand. By his estimate, the man and his family that he had decided to bring along, would be there any minute. He took a seat on a cushioned bench and crossed one leg over the other, eyes on the door as he waited patiently.