by Lee Taylor
At the agreeing murmurs from the audience, Gia pinned Aiden with a hard glare, willing him to say the words that she’d virtually burned into his brain. She thought later that his stumbling delivery and choked voice helped. It made him look as regretful as he actually was about taking on his degenerate opponent. She crossed her fingers and toes, praying that he would speak the lines exactly as she’d drilled into him. She’d made him practice them multiple times to infuse exactly the right mix of embarrassment and concern.
“Uh, Mr. O’Brian, I . . . I can understand how you might have succumbed once. After all, none of us is perfect, and the last thing I want to do is pretend that I’ve never . . . ”
O’Brian cut him off. “Hey, young fella, thanks. But I gotta tell you everything I’ve seen and heard out of your mouth makes me think that unlike the rest of us, you’re perfect.”
At the jeering laughter from the crowd, Gia prayed that somehow, some way, Aiden wouldn’t back down at Mike’s on-target indictment and remember at least one of the rejoinders she’d schooled into him. Even though he was hesitant and more than a little practiced-sounding, he got out the words that she’d bored into his brain and mouth. When he finally responded, Gia blew out a soft breath and decided that in truth, she actually was a highly skilled puppet master.
“Uh no, I’m not perfect. And I do feel sorry for the women that you took advantage of. But I’m more concerned that you were willing to pay people in the sheriff’s office twenty-five thousand dollars to expunge not one, but four of your arrest records.”
The surprised gasps and then murmurs from the audience and shouts of “You’re a liar, pretty boy!” filled the air. As if knowing that it was do or literally die, Aiden sucked in an audible breath and said, “That would be bad enough, sir. But I understand the bribe was paid by a check that came from city funds. Coincidently, it was signed by the chairman of the Parks and Playground Department, which I understand, sir, is you.”
Later, longtime pols would marvel that the exposé could only have been engineered by an accomplished politico. One who had proved that she was a master, not only following in her father’s footsteps but on track to outfox the impresario himself.
Gia wished she’d thought to follow the breadcrumbs as her reporter friend Tyler Gunderson did after the debate. Tyler managed to get several of the streetwalkers on record complaining that Lyin’ O’Brian was a tightwad. The women testily confirmed the big Irishman never paid any of them more than twenty-five dollars for their favors. Which the enterprising reporter noted—with help from Gia—was one thousandth per trick of what O’Brian paid for the bribe. Apparently, it was one thing to be a convicted felon, a cheat, and a thief. But to be a cheap thief was more than his constituency could swallow. Lyin’ Mike O’Brian dropped out of the race the next morning, pleading concern for his wife and children.
Chapter 6
Ben Knight looked at his watch and groaned. “Damn, Gia. I’m with Aiden. Ya think maybe we could take a day off or, hell, maybe start at 8:00 a.m. on Saturday morning instead of 7:00 a.m.? For God’s sake, I haven’t even had my first cup of java.”
Gia glanced up from the stacks of reports she was shuffling on her desk, a frown tightening her brow. “Jesus, Ben, if anyone should know that we have to strike while the proverbial iron is hot, it’s you. You of all people know the cards were stacked against us last night. Look, I’m a betting woman, but I didn’t give us a one-in-a-hundred chance of pulling it off. Did you honestly believe that Aiden would actually come through? That somehow, some way, he would speak the words I’d schooled into him?” She snorted, a tight smile curving her lips. “C’mon, Ben. We both know that the chances of the debate stage being struck by lightning at precisely the moment Aiden was to take on Mike O’Brian was one hundred times more likely than our pale, shaking candidate coming through.”
“No, Gia, I don’t know that. In fact, I disagree. Like Aiden, I knew that our pretty boy candidate faced a ‘dicktomy,’ on stage no less, if he didn’t get the words out of his mouth that you burned into his gut.” He added in disbelief, “Seriously, Gia, I can’t remember when I actually saw someone ‘shake like a leaf.’ But Aiden came damn close to resembling an Aspen tree when he stumbled onto the stage. At that moment the chances of him speaking his lines were a hell of a lot less likely than pissing himself and fleeing from the stage.”
Gia laughed. “C’mon, buddy. It wasn’t that bad. Although I’ll admit I was more than a little concerned that he was going to choke. Not be able to get the words out of his mouth.”
“You had reason to be concerned, boss lady. Given Aiden’s, shall we say, less than documented ‘courage under pressure,’ the chances of his pulling it off were negligible at best.” Waving off Gia’s certain disagreement, Ben concluded, “But I knew before the guy opened his mouth what would come out of it. They would be the words that you had planted there. Make that drilled there. Hell, Aiden had two choices. Do as you told him or commit suicide on the spot.”
Gia laughed. “C’mon, Ben, give the guy a little credit.”
“Sorry, boss woman. The only thing Aiden gets credit for is stumbling onto the stage without falling flat on his face. The rest of what happened last night is due to one thing—make that one person only. That person is you.” Ben shook his head, a wondrous smile lighting his face. “Honest to God, Gia, they’re calling you the hottest up-and-coming campaign manager in the country. Your photograph was ‘top of the fold’ news in the Gazette today, right next to Aiden’s and Mike’s. And I gotta tell you, boss woman of mine, of the three of you, the prettiest by far was none other than the campaign manager.”
Gia sniffed. “C’mon, Ben, you know that photo was only because I’m a hometown girl.” She hesitated. Not trying to hide her frown, she added, “And, of course, because I’m Big Bart’s daughter.”
Gia wasn’t surprised that Ben didn’t take issue with her assertion. It was obvious that everyone would be comparing her to her father. Jesus God, the charming criminal had been front-page news for most of her life. Of course the Gazette would latch on to her. She shuddered, knowing how gleefully they would have scourged her if Aiden had fallen flat on his face. But he hadn’t, and the Gazette, and for the most part the political pundits they quoted, had been positive. As one old pol concluded, “Gia Tremaine came through a baptism of fire with nary a feather of her impressive plumage singed.”
While she appreciated the coverage of the debate and acknowledgement of her significant role in it, Gia had to admit that her success was due at least in part to her father. Fine, she conceded if Big Bart hadn’t sent her the evidence he had, the debate and Aiden’s candidacy would be a footnote in political chronicles. Likely, an admonition to preppy, elite wannabes to find a day job. Or better yet, live on their inheritances and grace the “Style” page, not the hard-news section. But even as she acknowledged her father’s role, she refused to give him credit for her success. If anyone deserved credit, it was Max Sheldon, who had pointed her to Mike’s perfidy. Even in her victory, Gia’s fierce anger at her father burned bright. His willingness, in fact, his intent to let her go down in flames when he held the key to her victory was a level of attempted filicide she would never forgive.
****
That afternoon, Gia convened the entire campaign staff. She thanked them all for their hard work, insisting that they couldn’t have won the victory they did without their extraordinary diligence, and blew off her staff’s fulsome praise of her role. She also commended Aiden for his ability to remain cool under pressure. It wasn’t easy to be pleasant. Aiden had called earlier and insisted that he have the day off. He claimed that he was exhausted and surely she knew that after his victory, he deserved time off. She postponed the staff meeting twice, waiting for him to show. When he finally chose to grace them with his presence, he was a full two hours later than the scheduled meeting. Not bothering to apologize for keeping them all waiting, he made it clear with his sullen expression and clipped responses to her su
ggestions that he wasn’t happy to be there.
Gia managed to cloak her disgust at Aiden suddenly deciding that he was the second coming of Christ among rising superstar candidates and was only deigning to meet with his underlings. After a couple of his snotty comments and at least the third time that he looked at his watch, she rose to her feet and laid out the challenges they faced.
“Okay, team, we all agree. The chances of us winning the primary are a hundred to one—in our favor. Gretchen Engle is a decent candidate, but given that she chose to run on the Green Party and the ‘me too’ movement platform, she doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning the primary.” Without mentioning Aiden’s well-known desire to campaign on the environment, Gia couldn’t completely contain her snarky observation. “Even knowing that Gretchen can’t win, we can’t take our eye off the ball. If anything, we have to work as we never have before.” Ignoring Aiden’s snort, Gia decided to lay it on thick. “Look, team, those of you who are old-timers know that our task is just beginning. If you thought that we could run on last night’s victory, please think again. Our hard work—and yes, long hours—are just beginning.”
Gia punched up a photograph and a list of statistics on the monitor at the front of the room. “You all know Gus Underwood. And if you don’t, you should. Gus has represented this district in the US Congress for the last six years. He is a stalwart in the Republican Party, but he is liked by both sides of the aisle. The polls show that he has a little better than even chance to win a fourth term.” She paused for effect and then added, “That was before last night, when it was assumed that he would be running against Mike O’Brian. As of this morning, the polls say that his chances of victory are now as high as eighty percent.”
At the gasps from the team, she turned to Aiden and shrugged. “Apparently, even with your stellar performance last night, the ‘powers that be’ are less than convinced that you have a chance to win the general election.” Ignoring Aiden’s angry snort, Gia looked from one to the other of her staff members and asserted, “That assumption, my friends and sharp campaigners, is what we need to prove wrong. I’m not going to sugarcoat our chances. Like I said, Gus has proved his bona fides. Let’s face it—he’s a proven winner. In truth, I think he likely would have beaten Mike O’Brian. You can see from the new polls that none of the big guys think we have a chance in hell of beating him. But, my friends, this is how we are going to prove them wrong.”
Gia clicked on her remote and a calendar popped up on the monitor. The three months between the primary election and the general were rife with insertions. Every day had multiple marks on them. Gia pointed to the key in the bottom corner of the chart and explained, “In the event that this calendar looks daunting, it is. But this points to how we intend to win. To put it succinctly, we will be in every city, town, and hamlet in our district at least two times before the election. In some places, we’ll be there five or six times.”
The wide-eyed silence from the convened team was broken by Aiden. “What do you mean, Gia, when you say that we will be in all of these places? Who will that be?” When she just met his gaze, he added, “Surely you aren’t talking about me.”
Gia shrugged and said with a grin that didn’t reach her eyes, “I dunno, Aiden. Last time I checked, you are the candidate, correct? The guy who everyone at this table is giving up three months of their lives to see elected.” Ignoring Aiden’s glare, she added, “By the way, I haven’t added media events to the calendar. Assume that there will be at least one in each location we visit. At the very least, the media events will include the campaign correspondents of the local papers and, of course, radio and television interviews.”
Several hours later, long after Aiden stormed out, slamming the door loudly behind him, Gia sat with her core team. In addition to Ben, Kaila Dalton and Emma York were her most trusted allies. They were organizational geniuses. The pair were almost as accomplished as Gia was, although she acknowledged both women still needed to go through an entire campaign and prove they could rise to the certain challenges they’d face. A newcomer to their team was Sylvester Reinhardt, “Syl” for short. Ben had dug the pimply-faced, overweight kid out of his Magic gaming consortium. Ben told Gia that the almost-mute whiz kid would be challenging Dennis “Shortround” Chan and Dae Hui “FoV” Cho in the very near future. Not pretending to know the cultish world of video gaming, Gia took his word for it and hired Syl. She didn’t raise so much as an eyebrow at the kid’s eating habits. Heck, if all it took to keep his brain in the stratosphere humming was a daily overload of junk food and cases of Mellow Yellow, Gia was all in.
Facing the four solemn team leaders, Gia didn’t sugarcoat the facts they knew too well. “Listen, don’t think for a moment that I don’t know that we are running an uphill battle. Heck, have you ever tried to run up a ninety-degree trail? Well, I have and it ain’t easy. It fact, it is damned hard. But it can be done. If we are willing to put our lives on hold for the next three months and do nothing but work to get Aiden elected.” Even as she looked from one to the other, she knew that the reason they were on board for the arduous task wasn’t Aiden. Not by a long shot. It was her. That fact and knowing that the odds were definitely against their success was humbling. It also made her determined that they would win. But, she conceded, it was only fair that she acknowledge what they were up against.
“Look guys, I know Aiden isn’t exactly a ball of energy. That’s a given. He is going to need a push or two—make that a shove—to meet the schedule I have planned. It’s my job to see that he does. And you can be sure that I will ride him hard.” She chuckled along with the rest of their team, then turned to the other challenges of the campaign. “I will be the go-to person, along with Ben, who will take as many of the media queries as we can. When possible, Ben or I will be the ones on television and quoted in the papers. When we have to put Aiden out there, don’t worry, I will have him carefully scripted.”
Not bothering to excuse her plan, knowing that it made Aiden look like the impotent puppet that he was, Gia went on to her bigger concern. “Now that we’ve discussed our day-to-day trials, I need to focus on our biggest challenge. And while it definitely is partly due to him, the challenge isn’t our candidate. Our biggest issue is money. Even with a hotshot candidate, raising the money for a successful congressional campaign is hard as hell. When the odds against your candidate are as bad as the ones against Aiden, the lack of cold, hard cash is beyond significant.”
Ben asked the question that none of the others dared. “That said, Gia, how are we going to raise a million dollars or more in the next four months?” He hesitated, then shrugged. “Let me ask that more honestly. Given that all three of us are akin to a third-grade basketball reject facing Steph Curry when it comes to fundraising experience, the pertinent question is how are you going to raise that impossible sum of money?”
Gia nodded, conceding Ben’s observation. “Three ways, Ben. First, I’m going to hit up Aiden’s son-of-a-bitch parents and shame them into contributing at least half of what we need. All I have to do is let them know that I will start a whisper campaign against them that not only details what cheap bastards they are but also describes in detail some of the more egregious things that fucker Franklin Maxwell has done to reap his financial fortunes. Second, I’m going to hit up every crooked pal of my dad’s and convince them that if they value their privacy and like not being in prison with my dad, it would be wise to support me. Finally, I’m going to plough new ground. Specifically, I’m going after fresh meat. At least fresh in our neck of the political woods.” As she clicked the remote and a man’s face filled the monitor, she added, “To be specific, I’m going after him.”
Ben was quiet for a long moment and then spoke for the questioning quartet. “Okay, boss woman, even as a guy, I can see why you might be interested in a man who, if he isn’t Charlie Hunnam in the flesh, has to be Hunnam’s twin brother.” Seeing Gia’s satisfied grin, he pressed. “Come on, Gia, enlighten us k
now-nothings. Who is he? And what does he have to do with our dirt-poor campaign?”
Gia laughed. “To cut through the mystery, he isn’t CH, although he sure as hell could be. Nope, the heartthrob’s name is Logan Fowler. And to be specific, he is the guy who is going to help me get the heretofore-unelectable Aiden Martin Maxwell elected.” She added with a dismissive shrug, “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Chapter 7
Seeing her cohorts’ questioning looks, Gia admitted her certainty that the guy on the screen was their lifesaver was more than a bit of a stretch. In Vegas, her odds wouldn’t match what they’d given Tyson before Lennox Lewis knocked him out. But, she reminded herself, Tyson hadn’t had her on his tail. She’d been researching potential funders for months and frankly admitted that “short” didn’t begin to describe the list of “regulars” she had a ghost of a chance of convincing to support Aiden. By accident or as she preferred to think, her angels at work, one night she’d caught an interview on one of the local money shows with a guy she’d never heard of. She was primarily taken by his astonishingly good looks, which wasn’t surprising because the stud was every much of a knockout as Ben had decreed. Heck, Hunnam himself would have to go some to catch up with the arresting stranger. And damn if the chick-magnet didn’t even wear his longish dirty blond hair slicked back off his arresting face in what had to be intentionally Hunnam’s Sons of Anarchy MO. Add a strong jaw, high cheekbones, sexy, gold-tipped beard shadow, and piercing dark eyes, and it was no wonder Gia was wowed.
Intrigued by the handsome man, Gia had turned her full attention to the interview. Apparently, the mystery guy, whose name was Logan Fowler, was a newcomer to their state. What made him worthy of her attention, in addition to being to-die-for handsome, was that he was a high-tech superstar who’d decided to open a new plant in their city. As he told the impressed interviewer, he was searching for a forward-looking community that wasn’t on either one of the coasts. Unlike Aiden’s condescending father, who called it “fly-over country,” apparently, Fowler was drawn to the Midwest. With one ear on the interview, Gia had pulled Fowler up on Google and began skimming through the hotshot’s bio. The Internet had multiple pages of information confirming that he was a genuine high-tech wizard who was taking the financial community by storm. The venture capitalists, their tongues hanging out, were lining up to be the chosen ones to help Fowler take his company public.
