by Sara Celi
Interesting.
“So, Kathryn, let’s cut to the chase,” Landon said soon after our entrees arrived at the table. He sliced a piece of steak and speared it with his fork. “I know why you’re here.”
“And why is that?”
“Your father has taken interest in this little effort of mine.” He ate the bite of the filet. “And if I’m right on a few things, you have, too.”
“Ohio is an important state. A bellwether part of the country.”
He laughed. “Ohio is flyover country, and you know it. No one from the East Coast pays attention to our state unless it’s election year.”
“Now, that’s not true.”
“Who’s the governor of Ohio, Kathryn?”
I put down the bite of chicken on my fork and wiped my mouth with the napkin. “Easy. Peter Taft.”
“That one was a gimmie.” Landon arched an eyebrow. “This next one is not as simple. What is Ohio’s largest export?”
“Machinery. Nine point one billion dollars of it in 2015.” I raised my wine glass and tipped it at him. “Simple? You think you can stump me, huh? You won’t.”
I sipped my wine and offered a silent thank you to my father’s best staffer. Jayne’s PDF had been very thorough. Research had always been one of her better skills.
“What do you think is the biggest problem facing Ohioans this election year?”
“Good jobs. Solid, good jobs, and a good education.”
Landon held up a hand. “Okay, I’ll give you this. You’ve done your homework, Miss Van der Loon. I probably shouldn’t be surprised. I remember how focused you were at school.” His gaze floated over my body. “And maybe it’s something else. After all, you have spent a lot of time with my opponent. Maybe he schooled you on our state.”
“This isn’t about Patrick Blanco, I assure you.”
“How is it not? Come on, why else are you here? If the media has it correct, then you and Patrick had a pretty interesting few months there back when he tried running for president, didn’t you?”
“We did.”
“And now I’m the challenger for his seat. I think this is very much about Patrick Blanco.”
I drank some more wine. “My father likes your style. He likes what you’ve done so far. You’re one of the… One of the young politicians to watch.”
“Tell him thank you for me.” Landon finished his mashed potatoes and wiped his mouth with a black cloth napkin. “I appreciate that. You know, this isn’t a traditional campaign, at least not in the way the people in DC think. This is a movement. This is—this is deeper. I’m not doing the typical political pandering. ”
“I’ve heard that.”
“Somehow, I find that a little hard to believe.”
“I was—Daddy was—well, he was especially impressed with how you handled the healthcare fight last year in Columbus.” I sped up my words, hoping what I said sounded good. “You gave quite a speech that day at the Capitol. Very passionate, and Kennedy-esque…”
“Oh, now I’ve heard everything.” Landon smirked and dropped his fork on his plate. “Come on, Kathryn. You’re not fooling me.”
“Well, I—”
“You’re not going to convince me that you or your father regularly followed Ohio politics from Van der Loon Tower. You both have better things to do than worry about what we’re doing in the Buckeye State.” Landon cleared his throat. “Unlike some places, we know better than to think we’re the center of the universe.”
I glanced down and struggled to think of a comeback. “You’re right. He doesn’t follow Ohio hardly at all, and I memorized those facts on the plane ride over here. You caught me.”
Landon chuckled. “So let’s get down to it. What do you want from me? Why did you fly two and a half hours just to have dinner?”
Let’s be honest. Women like Kathryn Van der Loon had agendas and goals in life, and they never wasted time. They were constantly striving, constantly climbing, and constantly looking for how each scenario in life would benefit them. This time, it wasn’t hard to find it. She wanted to stick it to Patrick Blanco, her family wanted a slice of the political sphere, and she wanted to get hers. I had absolutely no problem with this.
In fact, I found it sexy. Damn sexy. Revenge could be a turn on—a mega turn on, in my opinion.
Even at Choate Rosemary Hall, Kathryn had been a celebrity. A modeling contract with Ford, and the cover of Teen Vogue had helped with this, but she’d also wove her way around the elite of the elite, and she’d done it with flawless precision. Always dominant. Always alluring. Always at the center of the action. She’d been bred for it. The girl I remembered had turned into a woman who had the world at her feet and the influence to get what she wanted. What could be wrong with that?
Besides, she sat across the table from me in a body hugging dress that showed off every one of her Pilates-toned curves. Any male in his right mind would want her. The women I’d met in Cincinnati didn’t come close to having her kind of New York City–type confidence.
“We want to help you,” she said after a gulp of red wine. “We want to give your campaign the edge it needs to win. And we want nothing more than for you to beat Patrick Blanco.”
“Good, I’m glad we have that settled.” I nodded a few times. “There hasn’t been a whole lot of polling done in this race, but the last one showed our efforts within striking distance. Did you know things are tight enough that we’re going to have another debate?”
“You are?” She lifted her right eyebrow. “I didn’t know that.”
“Just agreed to it this afternoon, and it looks like it’s going to happen the weekend before the election.” I waved a hand. “Not what I prefer, since people will already be voting early, but I’ll take any chance I can to get at Patrick Blanco.”
“Wow,” she said.
“We have the momentum, and this race is closer than Patrick wants to admit.”
“Well, that’s part of what brought me here. Seems like you are gaining quite a lot of ground, and people are noticing more than you might realize.”
“The Dispatch has been good about covering both sides of the fight,” I said as I speared a stalk of asparagus with my fork. “And I’ve always wanted this, ever since I was a little boy. You might not remember, but I ran for class president a Choate. Didn’t get it, but I ran.”
“I remember.” She wrinkled her nose. “God, Choate was forever ago. A lifetime, and I like to think I’m a better person now. More focused, maybe.”
As I ate the green vegetable, I allowed my attention to once again roam over her body, taking in her face, lips, graceful style, and shapely breasts. Kathryn had brought it to Cincinnati. She also hadn’t pulled any punches. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“So, while I’m certainly grateful for your support,” I said, “I can’t help but wonder…how do you all plan to give it?”
Kathryn started to reply, but as she did, a woman walking by our table, stopped and turned around. She furrowed her brow.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I hate to interrupt, but—you’re Kathryn Van der Loon, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Kathryn extended her hand and the woman shook it. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I’m Julie Catalone, the owner of this restaurant, and I just wanted to thank you for dining here tonight, and I just—” The woman laughed and Kathryn shot me a look. “It’s silly.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“I just— I wanted you to know that I think Patrick Blanco was a sleaze ball for what he did to you. An absolute jerk.”
Some wine caught in my throat and I coughed to clear it. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Kathryn adjusted herself in her chair. If she agreed with the woman about Patrick, her unreadable expression didn’t give that away. Her next words were soft and smooth. “I certainly wish Patrick all the best in life. I don’t have any hard feelings.” She nodded at me. “Have you met State Representative Landon Mar
sh, by the way? He’s spent of a lot of time representing Ohio’s thirty-first district in Columbus.”
On cue, I stood and extended my hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Kathryn also rose. “Did you know that Mr. Marsh is also running for the Senate? In fact,” she said, shooting me a knowing look, “he’s leading Mr. Blanco in the polls right now. It’s a tight race, but he’s pulled ahead.” She rubbed her hands together. “A lot of grassroots support. A fair amount of people aren’t too happy with what’s going on in Washington.”
Julie glanced over at me, then cocked her head. “Such a shame how much gridlock there is in Washington these days. They never get anything done.”
“Mr. Marsh isn’t like that. He’s willing to work with people to accomplish important compromise.”
Julie smiled. “Well, I hope so.” Then she turned her attention back to Kathryn. “But I have to say, I’m not as convinced as you might be. “
“I think you’ll be surprised about how he handles the Senate. Listen, Landon Marsh and I are old friends. We went to high school together, and graduated the same year. We share lots of great memories.” She tossed me the kind of easy smile someone would give a best friend. “We—Van der Loon Global—are looking at investing more heavily in Ohio, and I knew I had to speak with him about the future of the state.”
“I see.” Julie nodded a few times, and then looked down at her gold watch. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just—it was good to speak with both of you.”
“Goodnight,” Kathryn and I said in unison.
As soon as the woman turned to walk away, Kathryn’s face changed, going from jovial to serious. She sat down at the table again, and I followed her lead.
“Wow, you—”
She raised a hand to stop me from speaking. “Let’s get down to business here, okay? No more games. This is serious, and I hope that just showed you what I can do for your efforts.”
“It did.” I glanced over my shoulder at the Julie woman, who’d sat down at a table closer to the open kitchen. She said something to her table companion, and they both looked over at us. I turned around again and regarded Kathryn. “You were perfect.”
“Of course I was.” She laughed to herself, and my stomach twisted as I realized how much I liked the sound of it. I wanted to hear it more. Much more. “So here’s how it works. Daddy has a super PAC called Solutions of America, and he’s willing to back you, along with a host of other down-ballot candidates he’s adding to the slate across the country. You’ll be one of probably ten that the super PAC will run ads for and promote heavily. And, if you want… I could certainly lend some talents to the campaign.” She leaned across the table, smiled, and lowered her voice. “It’s not like I have anything else to do right now.”
“What if I say no?”
“You won’t. We have leverage that you need.” Kathryn opened her purse and took out a small white envelope. “I don’t recommend using this until the exact moment, but I want you to see what we have.”
Kathryn handed the envelope to me and I opened it, only breaking her gaze so that I could peek inside. “Wow. You weren’t joking.”
“There’s more where that came from. Trust me.” She took the envelope from my hand and slipped it back into her purse. “And we can—”
“That’s pretty heavy stuff,” I said. “Explosive.”
She grinned. “Exactly. It’s the edge we need.”
She had a point. We might have tied Patrick in the last statewide poll, but most analysis of this race considered me the underdog. Patrick had more endorsements and far more money. I had very little, and our opposition research hadn’t turned up anything about Patrick that the public didn’t know. Nothing half as juicy as what lay in that envelope, anyway. Still, I didn’t like it. Using it meant playing dirty.
“You’re welcome to help the campaign,” I said. “But we don’t use that information until we absolutely have to. Until it’s all we have left, okay? I want to win this thing fairly, and because the voters choose me.”
“Okay.” She recoiled a bit. “I understand that. When do you want to start?”
“Tomorrow. I’m meeting with my staff at the Queen City Club for breakfast.” My gaze roamed over her body again. “And I think you’re the perfect surprise guest.”
The meal went so well that I almost forgot about the conversation I’d had with the woman on the plane. Instead, as I walked back to the Hilton from Boca, I had almost euphoric feelings. This had been a good decision. Maybe even a great one.
And then I noticed a large sign in the lobby outlining that evening’s events in the hotel. Patrick Blanco’s name had a prominent place right in the center of it. I studied it for a moment, then I walked over to the concierge desk, where I pretended to be a late attendee for his event.
“Hall of Mirrors on the second floor.” The woman motioned in the direction of the stairway. “Right up those steps. You won’t be able to miss it.”
After a quick thank you, I hurried upstairs and made my way to the ballroom. I heard the music and the laughter before I rounded the corner, and something about it heated my blood. I hadn’t seen Patrick since his epic loss in South Carolina, and just the thought of him and a crowd of supporters both piqued my curiosity and annoyed me.
I opened the door and slipped into the back of the room, making sure I blended in with the darkness and the bustle of the party. Ahead, Patrick stood at a podium, conducting what seemed to be a live auction in front of a crowd of a few hundred people. As I watched, he auctioned off experiences and vacation homes in the name of his campaign. The crowd seemed delighted and they cheered and hollered for the auction items. Most of the men wore tuxedos, and the ladies wore last season’s evening gowns.
“May I help you?” asked a woman near the front door. She wore a black dress and an official-looking nametag that read “Martha.”
“Oh, I’m just here to drop something off,” I said, scrambling for an excuse as I cursed myself for not thinking of one on the way up the stairs. “Is Greg Johnson here?”
“Greg Johnson?” She glanced at the crowd. “I don’t remember his name on the list.”
“He’s a friend of mine, and he left his keys at the bar when we met for a drink before he came over here.” I jammed my thumb over my shoulder. “At Boca.”
“This is a private party, miss.” Martha frowned. “I promise you, there’s no one named Greg Johnson here.”
I nodded a few times, realizing my lame excuse wasn’t going to work on her. Not that it mattered—I’d seen enough of the fundraiser, anyway. “My mistake.” I backed out of the ballroom. “Good night. Thank you.”
Martha stayed rooted in place, her gaze fixated on me as I left. I shut the door behind me and laughed to myself as I walked to the elevator. Maybe Martha recognized me and would tell Patrick I was in town. Good, in a way. It would make him think.
I got on the elevator and let out a sigh. What a day. What a year. And something told me the fun was just beginning.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked the next morning as Kathryn exited the elevator at the Hilton and stepped into the marble lobby. I held out a small Starbucks cup. “I’ve got cream and sugar if you need it.”
“Thank you, but I usually drink it black.” She took the cup and fell into step next to me. “Less calories that way.”
“You don’t need to worry about calories.”
She didn’t. It didn’t take a genius to see that Kathryn was far from overweight. She probably fit into a size four. Maybe a six on a bad day.
“We’re not far from the Queen City Club, so we can just walk from here,” I said.
We traveled down a wide flight of stairs and stepped onto the city street. The crisp air of early fall had already settled into the city, so she pulled her camel-colored trench coat closer to her body as we walked the few blocks to the private club. I took the opportunity to take in the sight of her again. Kathryn Van der Loon had been gorgeous at Choate, and I’d always l
iked her, but the years had only rounded out her looks. She had the well-bred beauty of an East Coast WASP, and it showed in every facial expression, flip of her hair, and step that she took. She had more polish than half the women I knew.
“I’m afraid this isn’t as glamorous as working on a presidential campaign,” I said as we made our way to the breakfast. “I hope you understand that. I can only afford two full-time staffers and a few devoted volunteers right now.” I waved my hand as if to dismiss my budget woes. “Grassroots. But devoted, and that’s the most important thing.”
She turned her head and regarded me. “I called Daddy this morning, and the super PAC is ready to make an ad buy in the major media markets across the state. Here, Columbus, Cleveland, Toledo…” Kathryn shoved her hands deeper into her pockets. “Kellerman and Kellerman is already working on a few TV spots that highlight how distracted Patrick has been since he went to Washington. And, of course, remind people of how disastrous he performed in the presidential primary. Paint him as an embarrassment to the Buckeye State, that kind of thing.”
“You all move fast.”
“Of course we do. This is high stakes.” One side of her mouth turned upward. “We’re Van der Loons, remember? We didn’t get where we are by resting on our laurels, waiting for things to happen to us. We make things happen.”
We fell silent again as we stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, across the street from Cincinnati’s most famous private club. I surveyed the parking lot, happy to see more than ten cars. I wanted to impress Kathryn, not scare her away. We both knew that I needed her help more than she needed mine.
“Good morning,” I said to the doorman when we reached the Queen City Club.
“Mr. Marsh, I hope you’re having a good morning, too. They’re waiting for you on the second floor.”
We left our coats in the lobby closet, and I led Kathryn down the hall to a small dining room across from the main ballroom. Five people sat around a center mahogany conference table, talking to each other over cups of coffee, water, and orange juice.
