Poll Dancer

by Laura Heffernan

  Before all this started, there had rarely been a need to dress professionally, but now I’d become a pro. Curtis wouldn’t find any fault with my appearance tonight. No cleavage, no short skirts, no heels. Just me, pants with leg creases sharp enough to cut glass, and a blessed lack of shoulder pads.

  When Daniel knocked on my door at exactly six-thirty, I was pacing nervously inside the door. A glance at the clock made me feel a little better. Punctuality was such a turn-on for my inner military brat. No matter what happened, at least we’d be on time.

  The door swung open to reveal Daniel dressed in a gorgeously-tailored dark gray suit with a green shirt that brought out flecks I’d never noticed in his hazel eyes. For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine he was picking me up for a date and not to work on debate prep in the car.

  “Hey,” I said with a big smile.

  “Hey. You look gorgeous.” He stepped forward and kissed my cheek, which sent a jolt through me. “If this were a beauty contest, you’d win for sure.”

  “I don’t know about that. I bet Curtis looks pretty good in a swimsuit.” I gave him a teasing smile.

  “True, but you’d knock ‘em dead at the talent portion.”

  “Damn right.”

  We both laughed, and instantly I felt calmer. Daniel opened the car door for me, a chivalrous gesture that some people found outdated but that secretly thrilled me.

  After settling into the driver’s seat, he leaned over and squeezed my hand. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I said. “Thank you so much for doing this.”

  “You’ll be great. If all else fails, when Curtis gives an answer, respond with ‘Everything that guy just said is bullshit.’”

  I laughed, recognizing the line from one of my favorite old movies. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “And don’t worry about slut-shaming. I may have hinted that if Curtis drags your reputation through the mud again, I’ll out him to the press.”

  I gasped. No way. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Of course not. But Curtis doesn’t know that. He’s so wrapped up in the idea of making his mother proud—and restoring the family’s image—he’s lost sight of who he is. And we need this debate to be about the issues affecting the people of New York, not his mommy issues.”

  When we arrived at the high school gymnasium where the debate was being held, Erica waited behind the wings. She looked perfect as ever, in a navy blue suit cut similar to mine and two-inch kitten heels.

  Her beady eyes swept me up and down before she said a word. “I guess that’ll do.”

  “Aw, jeez, Erica, talk like that’s going to make me blush.”

  “Sarcasm does not befit a senator.”

  Since she wouldn’t approve of any of the responses I had to that statement, I turned to examine the auditorium. It looked quite a bit like the debate stages I’d seen on TV, except there were basketball hoops on either end of the room and bleachers instead of chairs for the audience. Two reporters set up video cameras around the stage, both from local stations. I didn’t recognize either of them. Curtis and I weren’t exactly MSNBC material, and that was okay with me.

  “Remember to stick to the issues,” Erica said. “No personal attacks on Curtis. Try not to mention his family unless he does. If so, just the facts. Former Senator Baker resigned his post in the middle of the term, abandoning the people, to pursue personal gain. You would never do that.”

  “But really, it’s better to avoid your personal lives completely,” Daniel added. “After all, Curtis started this whole thing by getting personal. You don’t want to stoop to his level. If it comes up, change the subject.”

  “Got it.” I took a deep breath. “Does anyone have a paper bag? I’m going to throw up.”

  “I thought you were used to performing in front of an audience,” Erica said. Her tone revealed nothing, so I decided to do us both a favor and read it as supportive.

  “Sure, but none of those big crowds ever cared what I had to say. Those were exhibitions or competitions.”

  “So is this,” Daniel said. “Remember that.”

  His words gave me strength. My spine straightened, my head went up, and my shoulders dropped. Just another competition. I loved competing, and more than that, I loved to win. I would beat Curtis, just like I beat Shyla Turner, three-time New York state pole champion.

  Across the room, the back doors opened, and Curtis entered with his mother and an older man I assumed to be his campaign manager. I nodded at them. “Does he bring his mom to all these events?”

  “Well, it is her agenda he’s pushing,” Daniel said. “The Curtis I used to know wasn’t nearly this conservative.”

  That certainly fit with the woman I’d met at the governor’s benefit. So annoying that the man who’d ruined my life wasn’t even doing it on his own behalf, but to please his mother. I turned to ask Erica what she knew about the Baker family, but she’d melted away, vanishing into the crowd.

  “Are you okay for a minute?” Daniel asked. “I need to check on something.”

  I nodded. Having him around brought me strength, but my campaign manager had a lot of things in his job description other than keeping me calm.

  People filled the high school gymnasium, trickling in slowly as the clock ticked ever closer to the starting time. When the little hand finally neared the twelve, Daniel returned and handed me a small bottle of water. The thoughtfulness touched me.

  The moderator, Karen, sat down and explained the rules. She looked like a soccer mom, which made sense because Erica had told me she was the president of the local school board. She had that special haircut identifying her as the type of mom who never hesitated before asking to talk to a manager.

  Curtis had won the coin toss earlier, so he took the stage first, introducing himself in a few words. At this point, his voice set my teeth on edge, so I kept my face neutral and tried to block him out, clapping politely when he stopped.

  When I spoke, my voice was clear and strong. Erica’s prepared words sat on notecards lying on the podium in front of me. “Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming out tonight to talk to us. My name is Melody Martin, and as you know, I’m running for state senate. I believe in freedom of expression, personal liberties, and supporting each other.”

  The audience clapped politely, which was about as much as I could expect. If they clapped more or less for Curtis, I couldn’t tell. They’d cheered Karen warmly when she entered, but she’d apparently had kids in this school for the past seventeen years and knew every parent in town.

  She asked Curtis the first question, a relative softball about whether he planned to raise property taxes. (Spoiler alert: of course not!) He cleared his throat, and we were off to the races. Unfortunately, not literally. In a footrace, I could absolutely beat Curtis. Even if I’d been allowed to wear my heels.

  About half an hour into the debate, I felt like I was holding my own. A lot of the questions were exactly what Erica had prepared me to expect: how did I feel about raising the minimum wage, about paid sick leave, about mandatory health care. Having lived in multiple foreign countries with my parents growing up, even though we’d been on military bases, I saw the benefit of all of those things. It was easy to talk about my life experiences, and the more I did, the more heads bobbed in the audience. People were relating to me. Even Erica wore a small smile, which for her was like if anyone else started doing jumping jacks in the aisle. Dare I say she might be proud of my performance?

  Then Karen turned to me. “Ms. Martin, your opponent has mentioned his military service several times so far this evening. As you know, since the time of the American Revolution, this area has prided itself on being patriotic.”

  I knew no such thing. Could a Senate district be patriotic? No idea, but parts of Hamilton took place here, so maybe that was close enough. My head tilted as I waited for her to get to the point.

  “What would you say to those voters who question
your lack of military experience?”

  Clearing my throat, I said, “I’m a military brat, Karen. I grew up on bases, traveled the world with my parents. My father is preparing to retire soon. My mother has a few years left. They have more than fifty years of combined service. No one supports the military more staunchly than I, and no one could more passionately argue the benefits of service.”

  From the look on Curtis’s face, this part of my life story was news to him. He needed better researchers; it wasn’t exactly a secret. I wondered how he’d planned to come after me on this issue. Score one for Team Mel.

  I continued, “By the time I became old enough to enlist, I’d realized that my contributions to society would be more valuable in other areas. I craved the type of roots I couldn’t get when being reassigned every couple of years, so I went to college, settled in the Capital District, and bought a home. I hope to one day start a family here.”

  The audience members clapped. Several heads nodded. They liked me!

  Beside me, Curtis snorted. “When you talk about ‘contributions to society,’ does that refer to the time spent dancing naked in front of strangers?”

  Oh, no he didn’t. This debate wasn’t supposed to get personal. Daniel promised. My face flamed. In the crowd, someone gasped. Karen coughed, and it looked as if she may want to hide a smirk behind her hands.

  I’d like to speak to your supervisor, Karen. You’re supposed to be impartial.

  Determined not to let him get to me, I forced myself to count slowly to five. My eyes scanned the audience. Curtis would not feel the full force of my exasperation, and neither would our moderator. Attacking either of them would only make me look bad. No one would care that he’d started it.

  My gaze fell on Daniel, sitting in the front row, beaming at me with pride. He didn’t look shocked or disappointed in me at all. He flashed me an encouraging smile. Behind him sat a row of young women, probably students at the high school.

  I didn’t know what they were doing here, but they looked enthralled. One of them gazed up at me like I was the most important person in the world. She made me feel like a superhero. I smiled at her, and she waved.

  “Ms. Martin?” The moderator asked, drawing me back to the moment. “Did you have a response?”

  To my surprise, I found I did have something to say, other than, “Curtis is an ass.” Which I did want to say, very badly, but I refrained.

  No matter how frustrated I felt, this election wasn’t about me. I had decided to run so other people could freely express themselves, run their businesses without the government turning into the morality police and shutting them down. So young women like those in the audience could grow up, find their confidence, and be whoever they wanted to be. Votes mattered. Elected representatives mattered. Young people needed to see that men couldn’t force women to live by their values anymore. Those days were gone.

  My spine straightened. I said, “We all have our own gifts. We all contribute in different ways. Some people create art with their hands, sculpting or painting or writing books. Some people create art with their voices, singing or chanting. Dancing is just another form of art. It’s beautiful. The fact that you personally aren’t capable of opening your mind enough to enjoy something doesn’t make it worthless.

  “I’m proud of what I do. I’m proud of the joy I bring others. No one should be shamed into feeling that they need to hide their gifts, or who they are. A vote for me is a vote for individuality, for feminism, for being true to yourself.”

  The audience clapped. A couple of people whistled, although one of them might have been Lana, sitting near the back. I suppressed a smile, wondering what Erica thought of that.

  Beside me, Curtis sniffed. “Yeah, I suppose you’re an excellent role model for young girls everywhere. Dancing naked, sleeping your way to the top…Have I forgotten anything?”

  The comment took me by surprise. Sleeping my way to the top? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even been on a date, much less more. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Curtis. My dance ensembles cover more than most two-piece swimsuits.”

  “So you’re not sneaking around with your campaign manager?” He reached inside the podium and pulled out two pieces of paper. One in each hand, he held them up to the crowd.

  Not documents, photographs. My gut clenched at the realization.

  In the first, Daniel and I stood in a parking lot. My terrible hairdo identified it as the night of the first fundraiser. He whispered in my ear, one hand on my elbow. Thinking about that touch, I shivered. We did look intimate. I wanted to say that nothing happened, that the picture was a lie, but upon seeing the other, I knew there was no point. I had no idea why anyone had been following me, or what was happening, but—there it was. In full living color. Indisputable.

  The second picture was shot through the front windows at headquarters, right after Gary left. I didn’t know how anyone got close enough to get a good shot without us noticing them, but we’d been preoccupied. The how didn’t matter: There we were. Me and Daniel, in that impulsive, stupid kiss. The one that led to our amazing, heart-stopping moment in his office.

  A mistake. Which we’d both agreed not to tell anyone about or to repeat.

  Fat lot of good that did me.

  How…? Gary. It had to be Gary. The kiss happened right after we threw him out of the office. He must’ve come back. I didn’t know why he would do that, but it didn’t matter. Once again, my ex had found a way to ruin everything.

  With no idea what to say, I turned to look for Erica. She must be so disappointed in me. She no longer stood at the edge of the stage where I’d last seen her, and for a moment, I feared that she was so upset, she’d finally abandoned me. Sure, I didn’t like her, but for all our differences, Erica was good at her job. Suddenly I wished I’d spent more time listening to her and less time resenting her. Maybe then this wouldn’t be happening.

  After a moment, my gaze landed on Daniel. His face was white. When he saw me looking at him, he shook his head slightly as if to say, “Don’t engage.” That’s what Lana had been saying all along. Don’t let them make the campaign about me. Force them to make it about the issues.

  When I didn’t respond, Curtis said, “Want to tell me more about your impeccable morals, Ms. Martin?”

  My hands tightened around the edges of the podium, turning the knuckles white. I couldn’t believe it. Everything I worked for meant nothing. Talking about the issues was a waste of breath. Not when all anyone wanted to do was slut-shame me.

  Then I realized: slut-shaming was the issue. It was high time I addressed it head-on.

  “Morals aren’t about what you do for a living. It’s not about what you wear. It’s about how you live your life and how you treat people.” I pointed at him. “And if we’re judging people by how they treat others, I am not the one who should be ashamed here.”

  A strangled sound escaped Curtis. I found Daniel again, worried that he’d be mad at me for not changing the subject like he’d suggested. Instead, he was laughing. Then he gave me two thumbs up, giving me the courage to square my shoulders and continue with what needed to be said.

  “I’d have thought the lesson is to not use your office as a hotel room,” Curtis said. “At least not without covering the windows first.”

  “You are so one-note. You know what? If the only thing you have to offer the people of Saratoga is that you don’t like a woman who is confident in her sexuality, it’s a waste of my time to stand here and act as your punching bag.” I took a deep breath. “Thank you, Karen, for moderating. I think we’ve all seen enough.”

  Ripping off my microphone, I turned and strode out of the room. Erica looked as if I’d slapped her when I stormed past, but she didn’t move to stop me. Good thing, because I would’ve mowed her over.

  I made it halfway to the parking lot before realizing that Daniel drove me here, leaving me with nowhere to go. My feet skidded to a halt on the p
avement. Lana was around somewhere. She would take me home. I couldn’t face anyone. And I couldn’t stand here until one of the reporters covering the debate came out with questions. I’d said enough inside.

  Spinning around, I headed for Lana’s car. Whether she expected to find me there or not, she’d certainly give me a ride.

  The gym doors clanged open behind me. Holding my head high, I walked faster.

  “Melody, stop!”

  I should’ve known he’d come after me. With a heavy sigh, I turned to face him.

  There was only one thing to say. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” Daniel said.

  A hollow laugh escaped me. “All that time I spent fighting the attraction between us. Guess I shouldn’t have bothered. Turns out, there was no need for an image consultant, either. I let myself feel something for five seconds, and it’s all over.”

  “This is fixable. But you’ve got to go back in there and finish the debate.”

  “No way.” I shook my head. “Not happening.”

  “You can’t leave.”

  “What does it matter? I’m losing. People hate me, remember? They hate me so much, Erica tried to give me a three-legged dog.”

  “I strongly suspect you made more than a few new fans tonight. If you walk away now, Curtis wins.”

  “Then I guess Curtis wins. I was never the ‘right’ candidate, anyway, and we both know it.”

  Behind him, the doors to the auditorium opened again, and people trickled out. People who carried cell phones that made recordings that sometimes got posted on the internet and went viral. I couldn’t have that happen. Not again.

  “Can we please talk about this somewhere else?” he asked. “Or at least lower your voice. I don’t want anyone to hear us.”

  “Of course no one should overhear us.” My voice grew louder, nearly hysterical. “You wouldn’t want to spoil the perfect image you created! Perfect Melody, the perfect candidate for State legislature. An empty vessel, with no thoughts or feelings of her own.”