by Ali Vali
Sam stared at him as he studied the bill, and she sighed. From an early age, that sigh had been her tell that something was bothering her. “You want to come over and watch a movie?” she asked.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. I’m heading home after this and going to bed. It’s been a long couple of days, and I’m ready for an early night in.”
“Promise me something then.”
“You name it and I’ll do it for you.”
“It’s not about me, Daddy. If you’re really going home, then great, but if you’re not, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
He laughed at how perceptive Sam had become over the years. “I try never to do that, and I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, don’t play possum with me. If you go with your heart on this one, you’re going to jeopardize something you might not be able to repair. You’re the greatest guy I know, but that’ll only get you so far once you blow up a bridge you count on.”
Sam didn’t say anything else and smiled almost sadly when he kissed her cheek as he helped her into her car. Despite her lecture, he stared at his watch until she was out of the parking lot. It was still early so he decided on a drive before heading home. Chili’s domain wasn’t a place he visited often, and he envied the slice of peace she’d found so close to the city.
Her car was there, but it wasn’t the only one in the small lot. Did he chance barging in on Chili entertaining or wait? He’d have to do what he had in mind here since he didn’t want to take his insecurities into the office. His decision was easy when he saw another one of the houseboats lit up and a couple out on their deck. If Chili was entertaining, they’d carpooled.
He knocked and saw the wall of televisions on, the largest one in the center on ESPN, but he didn’t see Chili sprawled as usual on the large leather couch, which was one of the first things she’d bought when she’d started working for him. If the thing could talk he was sure it’d have a bestseller on its hands.
“Hey, boss,” Chili said, startling him into slamming against her door. Chili was covered in sweat, and goose bumps were starting to rise on her arms because of the cold night air. “Something wrong?”
“Can I bother you for a scotch?”
Chili ushered him in and kicked off her running shoes before she poured the drink he’d asked for. She came back with a sports drink and waved for him to sit. “Besides my liquor, what else can I do for you? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but home visits aren’t your style unless you’ve got something on your mind.”
“First, promise me you aren’t going to get pissed and throw me into that freezing water outside when you hear what I have to say.” He wet his lips with the scotch.
“I can narrow the reason for that request down to two people,” Chili said as she sat across from Huey on her large coffee table. Huey acted like a shy schoolboy who had to tattle on his best friends only when he had to participate in distasteful conversations centered around sexual things that weren’t his business. “Is it Sam or Paula?”
“Both, actually.” He wet his lips again, but the level in the glass didn’t go down, so she took the opportunity to finish hers. “Sam and I had dinner tonight and she was full of questions about Paula.”
“I bet.” She laughed and thought of a quote she’d read once but couldn’t remember who’d said it. It was something about no matter how rich you became you could never buy back your past. Your mistakes were yours forever, and no matter how much distance and time you put between them and the present, they’d always be there to suck the life out of you when you least expected it. “Did she enjoy the gossip she’s been after since she first met Paula?”
“Come on. I’m not that much of an old hen. I told her Paula was a mistake and to let it go. Considering she said you can’t stand the sight of her, I doubt it’s one you’re apt to repeat.”
When he wet his lips again she sighed. “Either drink the damn thing or let me get you some lip balm.”
“All right. I don’t really want to have this conversation, but I don’t want to not have it. You know how important Sam is to me.”
“Got it. Paws off Sam and remember my place. Consider it done, but you were right. We didn’t need to have this talk. For one, Sam tolerates me but isn’t what I consider a friend.”
“She wouldn’t have asked if she doesn’t like you. That’s how Sam is.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but from what I see, she’ll be a great successor when you’re ready to retire since she knows how to keep her distance. Second, I know better. I’m an idiot when it comes to women but I’m not a predator, and I’m also the hired help.” She crushed the plastic bottle and took a couple of deep breaths because she didn’t blame Huey for this. The haunting that was Paula was back and rattling chains so loud no one, especially Chili, could ignore them.
“If I even thought that…well, you know the rest. I care a great deal for you, Chili, but I want Sam to have a fresh start. Hell, that doesn’t sound good either.” He did drain the glass after his stumbling explanations. “You aren’t going to quit on me, are you?”
“For being an asshole but a good dad?” He laughed since she hadn’t said it with any malice, but she couldn’t bring herself to join him. “I’m not that vindictive, so you’re stuck with me. With any luck I’ll dance at Sam’s wedding when she marries some guy with a name like Bradford.” They’d often joked about some of the society guys who were born into money and given those old family names, but whose heads were often empty and who lacked ambition. All they could be grateful for was that one of their ancestors had the drive to make the fortune all the family lived off forever. She and Huey also joked that all the Bradfords of the world had won the genetic lottery, but because of them future generations would be screwed.
“Fuck you too,” Huey said as he stood and held his hand out. “Hopefully you’ll wait until I’m dead before you go, so don’t go breaking an old man’s heart.”
“Cut the shit, Huey. What else is on your mind? Or did whatever you ate upset your stomach so much it made you sound like a melancholy old matron.”
“There was one other thing,” he said as he jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “Someone told me you had breakfast up at the capital recently. Word is you had a new job on the menu.”
“You’re the worst gossip in the world, Huey, and you’re old enough to know you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“Who was it?”
“Rooster called and I answered. I owe him as much as I owe you, so it was me doing him a favor to return the million he’s done for me. If you want to know everything we talked about, he’s got his heart set on DC and he did offer me a job, like he does every time I see him. Hell, he even does it when you’re in the room, and my answer’s always the same.” She took his hand and made him sit down again. “Everything else okay? Or did you come over here to beat up on me to make yourself feel better?”
“Nothing, except my job with Sam is almost done. Now that she’s on her own I don’t know what I’ll do with myself. Then every time I turn around someone’s trying to steal you away.”
“Take up knitting. With practice you can corner the market on penis cozies. It’ll keep you busy until Bradford and Sam give you grandchildren. Then you can plan and run their campaign for the presidency, or you can add more money to their trust fund.”
“I come here, insult you more than once, and end up getting comforted by you. How the hell does that always happen?”
“Go home and figure it out, and once you’re in bed, sleep peacefully knowing Sam’s going to be okay.” She pulled him up this time and walked him to the door. “If you don’t believe that, then go to sleep thinking about what I’m going to do to you, like putting ipecac in that special-reserve scotch you love so much.”
“That sounds more like you,” Huey said as he waved over his shoulder when he was on her gangplank. “Thanks for not giving me a black eye I’d have to explain tomorrow.”<
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“Don’t thank me yet. You never know what kind of mood I’ll be in tomorrow, and speaking of tomorrow, don’t take a lot of calls.” He stopped and faced her. “Every once in a while I love gossip myself, and I know for sure this time it’s got merit, so we don’t want anyone to get the idea any of it came from our shop.”
“Did it?”
“Nothing like this will ever come from us, but it doesn’t mean we can’t ride the wave that’s going to come when a piece of shit this big falls in the toilet bowl.”
“Your next career should be in speech writing. You have such an eloquent way of putting things.”
“Quit while you’re ahead and stay away from the phone. And remember I still love you.”
Chili stripped her running clothes off as soon as Huey left and stepped into the shower. When she got under the strong hot spray a thought occurred to her. Why should Huey worry about her when it came to Sam? Then the image of Maria with her arm around Sam’s waist came to her. In a way she’d watched Sam grow up, but she hadn’t spent any time really concentrating on Huey’s precious little girl except when she’d needed help with her homework once she’d gotten to Tulane.
But once Sam had gone to Tulane and come out of her shell a little, Chili had every so often really taken notice. She wouldn’t go as far as what Dale had said about a crush, but Sam was a classic beauty, and when she was excited about something she had a way of pulling people in with her laugh and enthusiasm. When Sam smiled, Chili became curious as to who Sam would end up with. Whoever it was, she figured they’d be addicted to Sam’s laugh for the rest of their lives.
“Seems I’ve been missing out.”
Chapter Seven
For the next few weeks Chili sent Sam out with Virgil and Candy as they campaigned at the locations Chili knew would be full of sure voters for a campaign that would have a historically low turnout. The Emery campaign was finishing its rounds at the local VFW and retirement homes in Virgil’s district, and Chili knew it would be brutal if the people they met with were for the other guy. Age lowered the usual filter people had when it came to saying exactly what was on their minds.
Brutal or not, all the activity had kept Sam away from her until she figured out how to handle Huey’s reprimand or, more accurately, his shot across her bow for something she really hadn’t planned to do. After some thought and time, she was still angry, but it wasn’t fair to take it out on Sam.
She drove to the retirement home on Virgil’s schedule for the day, and from the laughter coming from the cafeteria she was sure Virgil was a born campaigner. He had a large group of people in wheelchairs around him, and he spoke with his usual passion with his tie slightly undone and his sleeves rolled up. Chili’s staff had stopped and bought cupcakes iced with Christmas colors, and she was happy to see everyone in the audience enjoying the treats.
“You with Roosevelt over there?” the old man coming in with the help of a walker asked.
“Yes, sir, can I get you a cupcake?” She pulled a chair out for him when he stopped next to her.
“You think I’m going to sell my vote for a cupcake with a Christmas tree on it?”
“No, but if I can’t talk you into eating one, will you tell me what you think?”
“Been listening for an hour before my weak pisser couldn’t hold out. Sounds honest enough, but he’s as slick as a used-car salesman.” The old guy sat down and looked her in the eye, but judging by the way he had his head cocked he still seemed to be listening to Virgil. Despite his initial rejection he took one of the treats off the tray she’d brought him from the table.
“Would you vote for him?” Most everyone on her staff, Sam now probably included, thought these outings were a waste of time. Their polling techniques were so good, talking to individual voters for the simple exercise of conversation didn’t really seem necessary, but sometimes you found that big nugget of gold in the over-mined riverbed.
“Would you?” the man shot back.
“I vote in every election I’m eligible for, no matter what, and if I could vote for Mr. Emery, I would.”
“Guy’s paying you to say that, so that’s a shocker.”
She laughed at the guy’s straightforwardness. “You don’t have to believe me, but when you take Virgil’s background into account, I mean really look at where he started and what he’s made of himself, I can’t help but respect him. I won’t vote for someone I don’t trust or respect, no matter how much money they throw at me. With Virgil, I’d know what I’m getting.”
“What’s that, a good jalopy with four bald tires?”
“Not a lot of polish, but a sound businessman who knows how to get things done. In my experience, really nice guys who tell you what you want to hear only work hard to get themselves reelected.” Sam must’ve heard her laugh and was walking toward them. “Why won’t you vote for him?”
“Didn’t say that. Who’s your friend?” he asked when Sam sat next to her.
“This is Sam and she’d vote for Virgil too, if you were wondering.” She smiled at Sam and lost it when she turned back to their new friend. “One more question, then I’ll let you go give Virgil hell. What would you tell our guy to do differently if you were in charge?”
“How do you know I can answer that?”
“Call it a hunch.”
“If what you say is true about his growing up, get his mama out talking about him. Is she still kicking?”
“Mrs. Emery is now living a comfortable life because of Virgil.” Virgil’s mother was that, but she also looked like someone who thought the more bling and rhinestones on her clothes, the better. Considering Virgil’s district, Chili had kept her under wraps.
“Then take her out of mothballs and let her brag a bit about her son. A boy who loves and takes care of his mama sounds a hell of lot better than a used-car salesman.”
“Mr. Emery actually sells luxury Japanese cars,” Sam said, and the old man gave her an amused look.
“Yeah, that’ll help.”
“What’s your name and who’d you work for?” Chili asked, thinking she and Sam were being tweaked.
“Bob Beson at your service, and before my family locked me up in here I spent some time with Governor Delwood.”
“Before or after his federal indictment and subsequent prosecution?” Sam asked, and Chili laughed again. “You’ll be happy to know he’s got his own chapter in the Louisiana Political History course I took at Tulane.”
“Did all that education you got also tell you he was the only guy ever elected four times to that office, and the best damn campaigner on the stump since the Longs? My job was a sight easier with Delwood than you’ll have with this hillbilly with the new tie.”
“Thanks, Bob,” Chili said, as she slapped his shoulder. “You can stop teasing the animals now, but that mom spot is a good idea.”
“If it makes you feel any better, your opponent was here last week, and all he talked about were your big guns and inexperience. The old biddies didn’t take to him as much as Virgil and the pretty harem serving treats he brought with him,” he said, looking at Sam.
“We always hire for brains, but pretty is certainly a bonus,” she said, and Sam’s expression was one of amused tolerance. “I just can’t admit that or I’d face being sued for harassment.”
“My family might’ve dumped me the first chance they got so I can’t work anymore, but at least I’m not dealing with all that shit you have to put up with. The workplace was a hell of a lot more entertaining when you could call a girl ‘honey,’ and she didn’t have a conniption over it while her friends immediately formed a protest line outside the office.”
“We try to keep that to a minimum at our place,” Chili said, and laughed for one of the first times since Huey had come to her house.
“You do realize she’s a woman, right?” Sam asked Bob.
“Honey, you do realize who your boss is, right? Delwood won so much because the ladies loved him, but he didn’t get to break that four-time r
ecord when he butted heads with poll-vaulter Chili Alexander. Talk about someone who had every lady in the room trying to get her opinion on something. At least that’s what they call it these days.” Bob laughed like he’d said something brilliantly clever, but Chili tried to keep a straight face.
“Yes, I know who my boss is, but I’m one of those women who don’t see the charm in being called sweetheart.”
“Who the heck called you sweetheart? I called you honey. It’s a term of endearment, not a proposition.” Bob stood and positioned himself at the center of his walker. “Come back if you need any more advice or if you need a date to anything and the big girl there won’t take you. Let’s see what else the car salesman has in his arsenal.”
“Did you know who he was?” Sam asked as Bob limped away.
“Why do you always think I’m setting you up for something?” Chili waved any response off from Sam and tried to tamp down the irritation in her voice. Why Huey would worry that Sam was in any way interested in her made her head spin. Hell, if she made a pass at her, Sam was liable to stab her through the heart with the Montblanc pen she loved to carry around. “Actually, that was a surprise, but it goes to show that places like this are full of talent, even if they’re forgotten.”
“Yeah, I feel like that these days,” Sam said as she sat back and crossed her legs. “Did you come by to check up on me, or to tell me you don’t really need me around? Or better yet, you’re here for me to get you some coffee and call me sweetheart.”
“I believe Bob said it was honey, but it’s none of those things.” The news she’d been waiting on to kick off Rooster’s campaign had been delayed since the fact-checkers were still hard at work making sure everything they were going to make public was true.
She’d called in a few favors and gotten the faith-based gathering to push back their meeting. When the story broke she wanted it fresh on their minds, not months later when the spin had cooled the shock factor. Rooster had done well with the chamber of commerce and the oilmen, but that had been a given. It was time to make some inroads in demographics that won elections.
