The Romance Vote

by Ali Vali

  “I still have numbers to run.”

  “Or nipples to squeeze. Your choice, lover.” And with that the line went dead.

  Chapter Three

  December, the previous year

  “We’ve been hired by Virgil Emery for a run for the Louisiana State Senate. In case you’ve been suffering from a severe head injury that’s prohibited you from watching or listening to any type of news outlet, you know that the sitting senator from this district will start serving his twenty-year sentence in a federal penitentiary for tax evasion and money laundering at the end of the month. Mighty impressive for someone who only got himself reelected recently.”

  Chili stood in the middle of her office with her main team around her, as well as a number of newbies hoping to move to the inner circle of a bigger campaign the next year. Virgil Emery was a training job, but he was about to be overwhelmed by Chili’s staffers, who wanted something larger than the Louisiana State Senate. “The first thing we’ll have to overcome besides his polling numbers is how to make Virgil sound cool.”

  “What’s his middle name?” Paul asked.

  “Michael,” Chili said as she wrote the name Virgil on the board.

  “V. Michael Emery sounds like a guy I’d vote for, boss.”

  “Michael is his father’s name.” She kept writing, filling the board with his latest numbers and his opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. So far he had a lot more items on the strength side of the list since he’d served two terms in the Louisiana State House.

  From the sound of flipping paper, Chili could tell everyone in the room was reading the file she’d handed out as they walked in. She finished her notes and turned around to find every face buried in the file except one.

  “So what’s wrong with that?” Sam asked, causing everyone to shut their files and lean back in their seats in what seemed to be anticipation.

  “Michael Emery was a dock worker who spent most of his paycheck in the bar close to his job, beat his wife, and abandoned his family when his wee little boy Virgil was only three. From that fateful day, daddy dearest never looked back and never paid a cent of child support, forcing Virgil’s ‘sainted mother,’” Chili made air quotes, “his words not mine, into working three crappy jobs to keep them in Spam as a treat. All that added up to a pitiful income that paid for an apartment you wouldn’t let your dog live in, and so much peanut butter the man still has acne. Virgil would no more go by V. Michael Emery than he would tattoo ‘Kick Me’ on his ass.”

  It usually only took one time for someone to receive this lecture so that they’d do their homework before asking uninformed questions, even if it was the boss’s daughter asking them. Chili crammed the lecture down their throats, since it was especially aggravating when she did all the homework and they only had to read the damn file she’d handed out.

  “Point taken.” Samantha crossed her legs first, then her arms over her chest. “If it would make you feel any better, you can slap me now and make me sit in the corner. I’ll even wear a funny hat if you have one.”

  “I didn’t say all that to embarrass you, Miss Pellegrin.” She laughed when Sam cocked her head to the side and smirked. “Well, maybe just a little. It’s better that it happen here, where any mistakes will be pointed out and then forgotten, than in public or, better yet, in front of our client. There’s no harm done, and from now on just read the file when I throw out a more-than-obvious hint like telling you Michael is his father’s name.”

  “What’s your suggestion then when it comes to his name?” Sam asked.

  “Dolly, get with the art department and tell them simple. I’m thinking French blue, block letters with white and blue piping around the edges. Just Emery at the top and Senate at the bottom. If they want, tell them to do another one with ‘for’ in the middle of the page, at an angle.” Instead of answering, Chili started working down her to-do list and handing out assignments to her seasoned staff.

  “You got it. I called and made an appointment this morning before this meeting,” Dolly said.

  “Beth, get with Jamie and tell him I’ll need about a week of his time. Also, he has to be on standby in case our opponent throws any curves toward the end of the run. I need you to work on five scripts to begin with, and I want them to be manly. The environment shot should be on or near a duck blind in camo, and make sure his shotgun isn’t shiny new.” She wrote down a few more notes in her planner and finally looked up. “The rest of you, the usual workup for the media and mailers, so get cracking. Put together the shell with what’s bothering the voters most these days and how Virgil’s going to turn it all around for them. I’m meeting him in an hour to go over some other things, but our first tentative package has to be done by the end of the week.”

  “You didn’t answer my question about the name,” Sam said as soon as they were alone in the office.

  “I will, but first tell me what your suggestion is.” She held her finger up and grabbed her car keys. “Better yet, come with me, and after you meet Virgil you can let me know what your thoughts on the subject are.”

  “Why can’t I do that now?”

  “You could, but why take a chance on being wrong twice in one day?” Chili opened the door for her and laughed when she could see how much her teasing was aggravating Sam. “Impress me with what you learned with that political-science degree you got.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “How to run a campaign from beginning to end? Let’s start with that.” Chili turned the radio off and pulled into traffic.

  Sam looked at Chili to see if she was serious. For the last three years of her life all she’d heard when she had dinner with her father was how amazing Chili Alexander was, and just how brilliant and exciting she made every day at work. After hearing it over and over again, she’d overloaded her schedule in her last semester so she could come in at the beginning of this campaign as one of the newbies. She’d had plenty of chances to meet the campaign guru since Chili had come to work for her father, but not too many one-on-ones like this.

  So far all she knew about Chili was the obvious, like how good she was at her job and that she was incredibly good-looking. The good-looking part had hit her in the gut the day they’d met and was hard to ignore, especially now when Chili was smiling and waiting for her to answer the question she’d thrown out. It was also amazing how quickly her little crush had died under a few minutes of full-on Chili.

  She hesitated to give Chili what she wanted, thinking that perhaps this was another instance Chili was going to have a laugh at her expense. When she sat silently for the entire drive, Chili pulled into an empty parking space of a huge Lexus dealership but hesitated before getting out.

  “You don’t have to be so skittish around me, Sam. In the next year all I’m going to do is try to help you reach a point where you can hang your portrait in the lobby and move upstairs with Huey without feeling like it’s just been handed to you.”

  “Why do you think I wouldn’t want my future handed to me on a silver tray?”

  “You’re the daughter of Lillie and Huey Pellegrin, so call it a guess. The business is going to be yours unless you have a burning desire to open a shoe store or something, but the tenth floor will just be an empty prize if you don’t work for it, don’t you think?”

  “So you asked to see how much I don’t know?” Sam asked, and gripped the armrest hard. The next year would be long if all Chili did was throw one verbal dart after another at her expense.

  “I asked because I was interested in how you’ll process a campaign, but if you’re going to act like I’m going to jump you every time you make a comment, then it’s going to make for some long days,” Chili said as if reading her mind. “No matter what, you’ve got the job, but don’t let the rest of the staff come to disrespect you by folding at the first mistake. One day you’ll be signing their paychecks, and you want them to be as proud of the work as they are now.”

  “You don’t know me enough to accuse me of bein
g spoiled.”

  “True, but if you were a potential client, I would’ve dropped you by now.”

  “For?” she asked, the flush she could feel rising from her chest becoming uncomfortable.

  “For acting like you’re unteachable. People who act like that are either smarter than everyone else or they don’t care to learn from their mistakes. Today’s the day you prove you’re cut out for this or you’re not.”

  “Why? Because I’m not tripping over myself trying to prove I’m your number-one groupie, or is it that I can’t come up with a good enough answer to prove I’m nothing but a smart-ass who’s spoiled beyond redemption in the eyes of the great Chili Alexander?”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Miss Pellegrin. The one who needs convincing is you.”

  Chili got out of the car and let Sam get her own door this time around. She laughed when Sam glanced up and saw the name Emery on the building and snapped her fingers, obviously realizing why the name sounded so familiar. “Is he in? Could you tell him Chili Alexander and Samantha Pellegrin are here to see him?” Chili asked the receptionist.

  Virgil came out in a suit that was anything but senatorial and a tie so bright orange Chili didn’t take her sunglasses off.

  “Huey called me last night and told me you’re on the job. From what my people tell me, you’re the best,” Virgil said, so loud that Chili figured Huey had also told him she suffered from hearing loss.

  Before she could get her hand all the way up to shake Virgil’s, Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bathroom. “This is who we’re going to try to get elected to the Senate?” she asked in a hiss.

  “If he doesn’t fire us before we get started.”

  “He’s a car salesman,” Sam said, like Chili didn’t realize where they were and who they were talking about. “Is this another joke at my expense?”

  “Maybe next year around April Fools’ Day I’ll think of something this elaborate to punk you with, but Virgil’s for real. There’s got to be something about him that your father found appealing. I haven’t figured out what that is yet, since I couldn’t attend the interview.” Chili squeezed Sam’s fingers and smiled. “Anything else before Virgil calls 911 and has the police escort us off the premises?”

  They walked out, and Virgil was standing there with a woman whose hair was so blond it made Chili forget about Virgil’s orange tie. Sam turned her head to Chili when she heard the soft “shit” at the sight of the couple.

  “Chili.” The blonde opened her arms and stepped closer until her hands were locked behind Chili’s neck. “I couldn’t believe it when Virgil told me that your firm was on board with us.”

  “Paula, what are you doing here?” Chili stepped back so quickly she bumped into Sam. “I want you to meet Samantha Pellegrin,” Chili said with a tight smile, standing slightly behind Sam after she finally broke Paula’s grip on her.

  “Your firm will be in charge of the overall picture, but Virgil needed a campaign manager for the day-to-day things, so he hired me for that.”

  “Fabulous,” Chili said in a way that made her wish she’d wake up and find that this was all a bad dream. That would explain Virgil’s tie and Paula. “This is going to be a short election cycle, considering the circumstances, so we need to get started. If you don’t mind, Paula, Sam and I need Mr. Emery for a couple of hours.”

  “Way ahead of you. We’re set up in the boardroom,” Paula said.

  “And you two,” Virgil said in his booming voice as he put his arms around both her and Sam, “we’ll be working together, so you all call me Virgil.”

  “Who’s Paula?” Sam asked in a whisper as they made their way to their seats once they’d wriggled out of Virgil’s embrace.

  “Not right now, okay?” They stepped into the conference room and saw a few signs already on the table that Paula had obviously drawn up. None of them looked like anything Chili would put in her yard, even with the promise of a new car off Virgil’s lot. “First thing we need to do is get you a headquarters location that isn’t in this building. We have a few places that are available and visible, so they’ll be easy to find. That’ll be advantageous when we start asking for volunteers to put out the signs and such that our art department will come up with,” she said, pushing all Paula’s work aside.

  “I figure this place is easy to find,” Virgil said. “In case you missed it on the way in, it’s got my name on the building in big letters.” He laughed in a way that his shoulders shook.

  “It’ll also remind people that you’re a car salesman. Honest profession, I’m sure, but it’s right up there with lawyer and snake-oil salesman when it comes to polling, so we’re moving out of here today. Before we make any other big decisions, though, why don’t you tell me why you want to get elected to the Senate in Baton Rouge, Mr. Emery?”

  “It’s Virgil, remember, and I’ve already told Mr. Pellegrin why.”

  “Mr. Pellegrin isn’t here, Sam and I are, so let’s hear it,” Chili said, and placed her briefcase on the edge of the conference table but didn’t sit down.

  “I love to fish and hunt, Ms. Alexander, and one day I’m going to take my kids out there and there ain’t going to be one blessed thing living in those marshes and swamps. These may be luxury cars I sell, but I grew up simple and having to make my own way, so I want better for my kids. I want a seat at the table to make sure the yahoos who run this state can’t use any money set aside for coastal erosion for anything else. They keep doing that and the goddamn Mississippi is going to be flowing through Canal Street if the right storm comes along.” He slammed his fist on the table and leaned over it to get closer to her. “That’s the best answer I got.”

  “Anything else?”

  “We got a whole lot of crime on the streets as well, so I want to do something so decent folk can go out without the fear of getting shot in their neighborhood.” Virgil slammed his fist down again and appeared ready to connect with her eye if she asked anything else. They’d have to work on the short temper, but the conviction in Virgil’s voice was something you couldn’t coach.

  “Let’s go shopping, Virgil, and please call me Chili from here on out. And remember, under no circumstances do you use the word goddamn in public again until after the election.”

  “Just tell me where the building is and I’ll have Paula go over there and set it up.”

  “My staff will take care of everything on that end. That’s not what we’re shopping for.” Chili took her car keys out and took a deep breath. “We need to update your look a bit and get some new ties.”

  “What’s wrong with my ties? My mother gave me this tie.” Virgil held it up like it was something he was willing to use to kill her with if she tried to take it away from him.

  “I’m sure next Mother’s Day your mama will love to see you wearing that when you take her out to dinner, but from now until Election Day I don’t want to see it again.” As Chili spoke she unknotted it and took it off him. She folded it carefully and placed it on the conference table. “You can argue with me if you want, but I want you to remember that the guy whose job you want is going to jail wearing a lovely orange jumpsuit that screams criminal. Orange is something that reminds people what’s wrong with the political system and the crooks running the show.”

  “I see,” Virgil said, and unbuttoned the top of his shirt.

  “If this is going to work you have to trust me, Virgil. You might not like everything I have to say, but I’ll never lie to you, and I’ll never tell you anything unless I have a stack of paper and numbers to prove my point.” Chili waited for his list of reasons why he didn’t want to do what she was suggesting, but all Virgil did was nod.

  For the rest of the afternoon until Rubenstein Brothers Clothing Store for Men closed, Sam watched in amazement as Virgil allowed Chili to pick out a new wardrobe for him. As she stood next to the tie rack with Chili while Virgil tried on one more suit, she noticed just how long Chili’s fingers were. Chili had strong-appearing hand
s that weren’t adorned with any jewelry, and it was easy to imagine what they’d feel like anywhere on her body.

  “I can’t believe he’s being so docile about this,” Sam said, and found a red silk tie that made the white shirt in Chili’s hand pop.

  “He wants to win, so I think he’s going to make it easy on us and listen. This doesn’t always happen, believe me, but maybe we lucked out this time around.”

  “I had no idea this was part of our job.”

  “Surprisingly, this is one of the most important things about our job. Undeniably any candidate’s message is the most important thing, but if you don’t want to look at the messenger because he looks like a hick who sells cars with bad taste in clothes, then it’s pointless. To get it right you have to balance style with content without going overboard. If that happens, your guy comes off too slick and that turns off voters faster than a Day-Glo-orange tie. You shouldn’t have any problem with this part.”

  Sam pulled out a few more ties and placed them with the shirts Chili had pulled out. “Why do you think so?” Despite their rocky start, the rest of their day had actually been fun.

  “Because you look beautiful, and you do every time I see you.”

  The comment left Sam stunned even after Chili walked off in the direction of the dressing room with what they’d chosen. Spending this kind of time with Chili was going to be interesting if she kept up the compliments.

  Sam had a feeling that Chili was the kind of person who noticed a lot of things, but more importantly a lot of others noticed plenty about Chili as well. Chili’s height combined with the light-brown hair that was graying around the ears and her light-blue eyes she was sure were a lethal combination when she was on the hunt for company.

  However, she doubted that was what was in Paula’s head every time her eyes cut to Chili. She didn’t care for how Paula sat back and watched Chili the whole time, and companionship had nothing to do with it. If she had to define the smoldering in Paula’s eyes, it was lust.