by Greg Sandora
“Who cares what the people at the office think, we’re up for this; let’s go pull out all the stops! You’re important to me, Sweetheart.
“Do you really think it would do any good?”
“By the time I get through with you you’ll be getting a lot of attention.”
Honestly, I didn’t have a clue, but I figured anything off the rack had to be better than what she had on.
“Jack?”
“Ya, what is it Honey?”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you…you’re beautiful. Don’t take it wrong… I mean in a rugged way, but you attract people like a magnet. I’m talking about real people, Jack. You’ve got charisma.”
Lisa was sounding like she had too much wine.
“Lisa, you’re a math wiz, with all the girls out there making bad choices, picking the wrong guy, the odds ought to be in your favor to get one of the good one’s that’s left, right?”
“Funny, Jack, but it’s working. You’re making me feel better. I’m almost allowing myself to dream a little. Are you just getting my hopes up?”
“Lisa in a little while, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”
“Okay, Jack I’ll give it a try. I’ll do whatever you say, I’m all in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
That night, for five glorious minutes, thinking the day was finally over, I rested my tired head on the soft down pillow. Our bed was made up of all ten layers of the Westin Heavenly Series, a collection of all whites over a thicker than normal pillow top mattress. Dealing with all Lisa’s emotions and the mall trip tired me, and I was ready to fall asleep. Kathy had other ideas as she climbed under the covers.
Turning to me, “Emma called today and said you were at the mall with some hot young girl hanging on your arm.”
I could hear the displeasure growing in her voice. It was strange because up until bedtime, Kathy hadn’t given the slightest inkling she was angry.
Emma Van Winkle was one of Kathy’s college roommates. They had shared a quad at the dorm with two others and the four still made a point to get together for a girls weekend once a year. They tried to stay in loose touch with each other with phone calls and more frequently with texts. Two of the girls still lived in Kentucky but Emma and her Podiatrist husband Phil lived in Alexandria. A couple times a year Kathy would make it a point to ask them to get together with us. Emma was a busy body and Phil was a know it all. I cringed whenever we had to spend time with them, which luckily with our kids and busy schedules wasn’t too often. The only upside to knowing Emma and Phil was the two of them had made it into my comedy routine. Since college, I’d been working on a strong five minutes of material. I always waited until our guests were drinking before launching into my jokes.
I was tired and drifting when Kathy continued, “Emma said there was some really skinny guy linking arms with the girl, and you were all carrying big shopping bags.”
The way she said it, a tiny squirt of adrenalin partially woke me up. Knowing I had this one, I wanted to play it really well. Pretending to be almost asleep without a care in this world in the softest most pleasant voice I could muster I yawned.
“That was Jean-Claude, Lisa’s hairdresser.”
“That was Lisa from the office you were with?” Kathy voiced the words as if she couldn’t believe her ears.
“What a trouble maker she is,” I said hoping to shut the Emma dilemma down once and for all.
“Emma said she agonized all day whether to call and tell me. It was Phil who convinced her. He told her that’s what a friend would do, and wouldn’t she want to know the truth if the shoe was on the other foot?”
I thought to myself, Phil what a worm. Thinking he was impressing me one night when I was obliged to visit. Sitting on his gray washed front porch drinking cheap scotch, he bragged he’d hired a hooker in Vegas on a business trip. He could barely contain his excitement as he told the whole sordid tale of how he’d been approached at the bar by an attractive redhead in her forties. How they’d gone back to his room together and what she did for the two hundred bucks he paid her. The bastard knew I planned to take his secret to the grave; I was no snitch. Bill, Tip, or Bud could say anything to me and I would think it was hilarious. I didn’t have the same tolerance for Phil, but I would still keep his secret. Until tonight.
I blurted, “Phil hires hookers when he’s in Vegas,” I added the plural for effect speaking in a sleepy, quiet undertone. He’s jealous of our relationship, and Emma’s a friggin witch. When I saw her at the mall, I even pretended to be glad to see her. I introduced her to both Lisa and Jean-Claude, she’s heard Lisa’s name before, but still she tries her best to start trouble, the jealous bitch.”
“Jack, I’m sorry don’t be angry. I’ll deal with her. I mean, the way she described the girl as voluptuous and hanging on you makes me wonder about Emma’s intentions.”
I should have quit right there while I was clearly ahead with the matter settled.
Kathy mused, “You were with Lisa?” I should have just turned over and fallen asleep, but that would have been too easy.
I added, “Lisa was having a bad day, so on a lark I took her out to lunch. The poor kid was feeling really bad about herself…can you believe her father never told her she was pretty?”
“Jack, she’s playing you. It can’t be true; no girl’s dad could be so cruel.” Kathy knew my big mouth wouldn’t leave it there.
“Well that’s what she told me at lunch, sobbing over her Chicken Marsala. I decided to put her in the car and take the four-minute ride up to Hayes Street to Fashion City. Lisa excused herself to freshen up, meanwhile the waiter brought a note saying, Thank you Senator Canon, we are delighted you stopped by. I stuck a tip in the jacket and closed it just as Lisa was walking back to the table. The kid really needed this day, Kathy.”
“I know you meant well, Honey, and Lisa’s important. I guess I was upset because Emma thought she had really seen something and it was her responsibility to tell me. Now I’m angry with her for jumping to conclusions. Like you said, Jack, you even introduced Lisa to her. I’m wondering what a friend she really is.”
Fashion City was the mall we usually shopped in, beautiful and wide open with escalators in all directions. It was comprised of the first four floors of the Washington Office Tower, the perfect place to cheer Lisa up. I knew from living with three girls—nothing cheered them up like shopping.
I grabbed my Boston Red Sox cap and sunglasses from the dash. Before this, I had never been noticed around Washington or maybe people were so used to politicians they didn’t bother. Recently, because of the ads, people would come up wanting to talk. It’s actually easier to be charming on television in front of millions, than it is working a one-on-one.
I wiped the lenses on my shirt, put on the hat, and we sped off... I had planned to spend the day with Bud and the speechwriters. So dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, I was ready to blend right in with the crowd.
I turned over and said to Kathy, “You’ll be happy to hear I got stopped for speeding on the way there. Lisa couldn’t believe the officer just let me go.”
Kathy hated my fast driving and made me promise never to speed with the girls. The truth was almost never, sometimes with Martha, I would drive a little fast. Little Bethany made a habit of watching the speedometer carefully and would report the slightest infraction to her mom. Usually she’d be able to say, ‘Daddy did good, Mommy.’
“I told Lisa I was going to treat her to a new dress and shoes and I wanted her to accompany Martha and me to South Carolina.”
“So I guess you’ve definitely decided to bring her; that’s nice Jack, it will be a good father and daughter experience.”
“Like you ever thought I could leave her home. You know I’m a soft touch with her.”
“Are you referring to Martha or Lisa? It could be either with you.”
“Martha, Honey.”
“Okay Jack, so you took Lisa to the mall. How did you end up shopping
with Lisa’s hairdresser of all people? You hate shopping.”
“That’s the great part about the afternoon: I didn’t have to shop. I only had to carry a few Juicy Couture bags to the car. When we were in the salon while Lisa was getting her hair done, I mentioned to Jean-Claude she was going on a trip and we came to get her a new outfit. Right there he offered to shop with her. He said he was born to shop. I lucked out. I wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”
“You took Lisa to get her hair done?”
“Ya, it’s funny. We weren’t planning on it, but when we got to the mall, the first thing we saw was this fancy salon. I’ve always thought Lisa’s hair was frumpy. It was right in front of us like a sign, so I offered to take her in there.”
I had actually nudged her in that direction with my body but I left that out. I was going to add, ‘you always say hair is important,’ but thought that would only irritate her so I kept it to myself, saying only, “To make her feel better, I made a deal to get her hooked up within a year, and I was feeling the pressure; I didn’t have a moment to waste.”
“It’s your responsibility to get her hooked up with someone, that’s gotta be a joke. Are you still in high school? The Commander in Chief doesn’t have the time to be matchmaker. How could you promise her something like that?”
I thought, if she only knew what I’d been asked, she would flip out.
“So you’re telling me you just walked into a salon, I can’t get you near a salon with me.”
“You’re gorgeous, and you don’t want me with you while you’re getting your hair done. Plus this just came up over lunch, and I figured why not help her out.”
“Well, this is actually a good thing, Jack. Maybe you can take your daughters next time they need a trim.”
Adjusting my pillow I said in the most tired sounding voice I could make, “I’ll take them next time, I don’t mind.”
I knew it would never happen. None of the women in my family would trust me for hair advice. I turned over and closed my eyes. I was proud of myself for having the will power to close my mouth and leave out some details about the day.
Like earlier, when Lisa and I walked into the salon the young women who walked over to greet us made quite an impression. Her movements caught my eye as we entered and I secretly hoped she’d be interacting with us. Walking like it was an art form, she slinked her way toward the front reception area and strangely unlike most people the closer she got the better she looked. An all black mini dress barely covered her. From a high collar, it scooped ultra low backless loosely draping her bottom revealing some of her sides and lowest back.
I could make out a couple tattoos without trying to hard. They were both in handwritten script; one across the exposed part of her foot read butterflies. The writing flowed beautifully at the angle of her heels. The other–four lines of a story centered across her ribs. Normally I don’t even like tattoos, now I’m fantasizing about tracing the letters with my tongue and tasting her skin. Once upon a time, a girl got her heart broken…
Her hair was gorgeous. She wore it mid back length, stick straight, with bangs just touching the top of her softly brushed brows. Crazy, I’ve never liked black hair before, but I was fascinated by the shine.
Close up her face looked smooth as silk, like it was in soft focus. Her delicate features reminded me of a new fawn with giant eyes and a turned up nose. I thought, the lighting must be magnificent in here, so I looked over at Lisa to test the theory.
Lisa shot me a look like ‘don’t you dare compare me to her.’ It wasn’t the lighting.
Face to face, I focused on her steely blue eyes under large lids covered in smoky dark charcoal.
Her body language was saying no, quickly twitching her head. She looked Lisa up and down as if she was nothing, and then briefly turned a dismissive glance towards me.
Through high gloss lips that were a perfect match for a hot pink scarf she wore, she asked, “What can we do for you today?”
I hadn’t heard a tone that condescending in years. I wasn’t used to being treated like that. The problem was she had an attitude like we couldn’t believe. I thought, how can something all wrong, be so perfect.
Lisa seemed a little uncomfortable too. Then, I remembered, with my Boston Cap and Ray-Bans, I’m as invisible as any other middle-aged guy would be to a girl her age.
As I was removing my sunglasses and cap, Lisa said sheepishly, “Do you have anything available now for a walk in?”
“Right now?” Over a look like you can’t be serious.
“Well we’re on our lunch hour,” Lisa managed.
During the verbal exchange, I was scanning the salon for eye contact with anyone in charge.
A man came quickly over, “To what do we owe the pleasure today?”
The pink lips said, “I was just telling them we have nothing avail…”
“Nonsense,” he said. Bumping her aside with his hip, he moved directly to the middle of the counter.
“I’m Jean-Claude; I’ll take it from here Daphne!” Shooting her an if looks could kill glance, he turned to us.
“Daphne does not realize she may have just told the next President of the United States we can’t help him. That will never do!”
He clapped his hands in the air quickly saying to Daphne, “Get my station ready! I will take you myself, follow me.”
Jean-Claude was unfazed by the beauty and dismissed her out of hand. While an assistant was shampooing Lisa, Jean-Claude stood by telling me he was a big fan of the campaign and he wanted to volunteer.
Following Daphne’s movement around the salon as if I was on surveillance, I told him why we came to the mall and hinted he could help by shopping with Lisa if he was serious.
To my surprise he said, “Sure but first we must take care of this hair!”
Once the shampoo was finished, he walked Lisa over to an antique brass and white leather Barber Chair and sat her down in front of a large Victorian mirror. Turning to face only me, he mouthed the words, “Call 9-1-1.”
Jean-Claude gingerly told Lisa her grown out Bob Hairstyle was lifeless and the color drab. He emphasized the word boring making it into two very distinct syllables. Lisa was very engaged in what he was saying. He was very attentive and took his time exploring the structure of her face giving her a lot of TLC. I stayed as long as I could to give moral support while they were deciding what to do. After about twenty minutes of expressively showing her pictures, waving his hands, and even threatening not to go shopping did he end up convincing her. The plan sounded a little drastic so I was careful to stay out of it in case of a less than desirable result.
While Jean-Claude was busy with Lisa, Daphne made her way over to me, “I’m Daphne Cole, Senator. I’m so embarrassed that I didn’t know who you were. Some of the girls filled me in.”
I told her, “You’re better off not to worry about politics,” and changed the subject. Motioning back toward Lisa, speaking under my breath, “Daphne, he’s getting a taste of how conservative she is. I was surprised she agreed to something so dramatic.”
I turned to Lisa and Jean-Claude, “You know the smell of perm solution and nail polish remover is beginning to gag me. I thought I could stay for the whole process but I think it would be better if we just set a time and place to meet. How about I head over to Barnes and Noble and meet you there whenever you’re done.”
“Are you sure Jack?” Lisa asked.
“Absolutely this will be great,” I said.
Then I turned to Daphne, who was patiently waiting, “If you get a chance come down and join me for coffee.”
“I’ll try,” she said, “I get my break in about a half hour.”
“Okay then everybody’s all set.”
I looked into Daphne’s eyes, “Maybe I’ll see you in a few,” with that, I put on my sunglasses and Boston Cap and headed off.
When we met later, Lisa looked amazing. Jean-Claude had dressed her in a wild form fitting animal print dress and matching spike
heels. The print looked like Giraffe to me. The large dark and light shapes really showed off her figure. She had a cute shape under all those clothes - anyway it was better than I thought. He had reshaped her hair cutting it very short in back with steep angles sloping down toward the front. He lightened the color and added chunky blonde highlights. Jean-Claude was also a talented make up artist and did her eyes sort of like Daphne’s. The only difference he told her was to use cocoas, copper, and violets instead of the charcoals to bring out her big brown eyes. When Lisa saw me, she dropped her bags, ran over, and hugged me like I’d saved her from drowning. We all picked up the bags. Lisa interlocked one arm in mine and one with Jean-Claude. We were all happy and I was smiling at her thinking I’d have our deal closed in no time. I was really glad for Lisa. Just then, Emma showed up.
CHAPTER THIRTY
In the morning driving to campaign headquarters, I was ignoring the phone buzzing, enjoying the solitude the scenery and the speed. The cherry blossoms were out and even the Jonquils in our garden were in bloom. An unusually mild February, it felt more like springtime in Washington. The day before, I had seen people out with shorts and t-shirts, reading on blankets, playing soccer and laying out in the sun.
The win in Florida had amplified a decisive nineteen-point victory in South Carolina. The talking heads and television pundits were now mostly in agreement; the writing was on the wall. The race would be Canon vs. Barker in the fall. Our team had a great time in Florida traveling around the state in two buses we’d leased from a friend of the campaign. The deal we worked out would have raised some eyebrows, so everything was packaged as a short-term arrangement on paper. The truth was—with us so far ahead—the buses had, for all intents and purposes, been given to us on loan. The press bus was basically a 48-seat tour bus with ‘Canon for President’ wrapped all over the body of it. The bus for senior staff was a $1.5 million traveling palace with coffered ceilings, marble floors, and granite counters. It had a big, semi circular couch and center low table that raised electrically from the floor. Walking through a small galley area to the rear of the coach was a private area where I could relax. The only problem we had in Florida was the mid level staffers took up half of the seats on the press bus.
