“Hello,” Stevens began, “and welcome back. We ended the segment on a rather pointed comment, Mr. Sotello. Did you really mean to call what La Raza does treason?”
“I really cannot think of another name for advocating the confiscation of our Southwestern United States,” Sotello replied.
“Some might call it a rhetorical ploy to call attention to the plight of Chicanos in this country,” Denton put in.
“You mean foreign nationals, entering the United States illegally, don’t you Mr. Denton?” Sotello asked. “I take their words just as seriously as a heart attack. Some people called the Red Chinese threat, to launch missiles at Los Angeles, if the United States interfered with their takeover of Taiwan, a rhetorical ploy. I call that a threat of the highest order, and a reason to revoke any concessions to Red China we have made over the years. I take La Raza at their word. They do not act on behalf of American citizens. They act against them. If elected, I will work for the citizens of California, and the United States, against La Raza. I would teach them their treason has a price.”
Sotello paused, and looked directly out at the audience. “Let me make something else clear, so there will be no doubt about where I stand. If the Red Chinese front group, they call Cosco, thinks I will stand idly by as Governor, while they set up a Red Chinese military base at the Port of Long Beach, they better start pumping money into Red Davidson’s campaign; just like they did with Clinton’s. If they maneuver our Government into letting them run the Port of Long Beach, I will have every ship, pulling into that port, strip searched right down to the bilge bottoms. The first tiny piece of contraband found, and I will close them up so fast, they’ll think they were in the mouth of a bear trap.”
The crowd, which had been gesturing and muttering in a dull roar at each one of Sotello’s points, now erupted again, as Denton tried to wave them into silence. His efforts only provoked the crowd into a standing ovation once again. Denton quickly cut to a break. He gestured angrily at Sotello. It went on until Stevens began to worry, as she saw her producer count down to cue. Stevens tried to warn her partner with a gesture. The commercial ended, with the crowd still applauding, and Denton hunching forward in his seat, with his fists clasped together on his knees, oblivious to the program again going out live.
“Whose show do you think this is Sotello?” Denton asked angrily. “We’re not here to act as a platform for your stump speeches.”
Sotello leaned forward, and the look on his face made Denton shrink back onto the couch. The camera zoomed in to record Denton’s startled fear, and then on to Sotello. The camera captured the dangerous aspect of the man more clearly than any words could. The animation quieted the crowd more effectively than any hand gestures on Denton’s part. The crowd saw Denton shrink back away from the tense candidate.
“I know exactly why you brought me here Denton,” Sotello said through clenched teeth, as he poked a finger in Denton’s direction, and Rachel Stevens shifted uncomfortably next to Denton. “If you think you can treat me like some dancing bear, you can stuff your limousine liberal crapola in your ear. I did not agree to be the paper target for your America hating agenda. I think this interview is over.”
As Sotello stood up, the crowd went wild. They, and the people watching the show, had never seen anything like they had just witnessed, from a political candidate. As the crowd surged toward the stage in spite of the ushers, Sotello halted, an idea forming in his head. He went over, and jumped down behind where the ushers were taking a stand. Sotello strode past them, and into the screaming crowd, pushing towards the stage. He began shaking hands, and hugging everyone who wanted a piece of him. Denton and Stevens sat in shock, on the stage of their own show, as their own camera crews followed the action. They could do nothing, as Stevens signaled them into another break.
She walked forward, and called down to Sotello, who still shook hands with members of the milling crowd around him, answering anything they threw at him. “Please Mr. Sotello, we need to get order back. We will have you on again soon, but please could you just go now?”
Her suggestion was answered with loud boos, but Sotello nodded, and held his hands up. “Please folks, I love you all. You have made my day. Return to your seats, so Ms. Stevens can get her show back on track. Thank you all.”
Sotello turned, and vaulted back easily onto the stage, as the crowd continued to applaud and cheer. He gave Stevens and Denton a little salute, and continued off stage, where his assistant producer guide met him, her face all smiles.
“Oh Mr. Sotello,” Jane Kearney laughed, as she took his arm. “Now that’s entertainment. You will come back, and rebook with us, won’t you?”
Sotello let her lead him towards the waiting area, as he ran a hand through his hair in bewilderment. “You think Denton will have me back on after this?”
“Are you kidding? We’ll probably sell a couple of thousand videotape copies of this show, when they let out some of the clips to people who didn’t see it. We’ll quadruple our market share the second we promo your return in advance. We’ll probably have to go off site to an auditorium like they do with some of the other shows, and take your next appearance on the road.”
“I’m willing,” Sotello confirmed. “Denton looked like he would have a stroke at any second though.”
“When he sees the ratings, and the uproar over your visit this time, the dollar signs will overcome any animosity he holds for you,” Kearney explained.
“Maybe, and Jane, please call me Jim,” Sotello agreed. “The next time, Denton will be loaded for bear.”
Jane laughed. “You have a firm grasp of the obvious. He will want to mount your head on his wall after this.”
She stuck out her hand and Sotello grasped it. “Thank you for coming. I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed your appearance. You have my vote.”
“Thank you,” Sotello said in surprise. “I hope I affected a few others in a similar way. It still stuns me sometimes to realize how many people have a deep-rooted urge to denounce this country. I guess over the next couple of months, I will find out if they can be shown a different way to feel about the greatest country on earth.”
“I can tell one thing,” Kearney went on. “They may hate your guts, but they will still listen. It’s one thing to hear political platitudes, and quite another to hear the truth spoken by someone who believes it.”
“Thanks again Jane,” Sotello said, heading out the door. “I need to go see my campaign manager, to hear if this stuff has gotten too violent for him. They worked him over pretty good.”
“Tell Adrian I said hi, would you,” she asked. “I’ve always liked him, but until I talked to him concerning your appearance on the show, I never felt as if his heart was in what he was doing. Maybe you’ve changed things for him too.”
“I will tell him,” Sotello replied. “Goodbye for now.”
__
After talking to both Craig and Ellen over the phone on his way to the hospital to see Phillips, Sotello felt relieved to know the uproar from the morning had died down a bit. Sotello pulled into Oakland’s Highland hospital parking lot, and parked his Dodge. It took him the better part of an hour to locate his campaign manager. He had to pause, to shake hands and sign autographs, for numerous people who had seen a lot of him over the past night and morning. Phillips had been admitted for observation, but did not have a room assigned.
Sotello found him in a partitioned area of the emergency room. Other than some facial swelling, and a bandage over the wound under his eye, Phillips looked in good spirits. Phillips whole face lit up as he saw Sotello come around the curtain. Sotello could see the TV up above him, and the news station he had tuned to. Phillips switched it off with the remote he had.
“Jim,” Phillips said with a slight lisp, because of his swollen mouth. “I saw your performance. Oh my God man, where in the world have you been hiding yourself? You were born to campaign, my friend. You ate their breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and they could not do one damn thing
about it.”
Sotello laughed, listening to Phillips lisp his congratulations. “I’m just glad you look better than you did outside of my office. I hear they will be keeping you for observation. Can I bring you anything?”
“Just sit down here, and let’s talk about the show,” Phillips said. “Denton looked on the verge of a coronary. How did you and Rachel get along?”
“We all got along fine, except for when we were speaking,” Sotello joked. “By the way, Jane said to say hi.”
“She’s a great lady,” Phillips told him. “If not for her producing, those two meatheads would have been deep-sixed long ago.”
“She told me they will want me back.”
“No doubt about it Jim, they need you back,” Phillips agreed. “If you can schedule a few more shows to play off of Denton in, you will win in a landslide. I wish I had been there, back stage with Jane. Davidson will be playing catch up from now on. We won’t even have to debate him.”
“I want to debate him,” Sotello said quickly.
“I know,” Phillips acknowledged, “but no one debates in a campaign unless they have to. The moderator, or the audience can turn a debate into a black hole. Davidson has a style a lot like Al Gore’s. He gets real aggressive, and will even stride towards you, like Gore did to Bush in that one Presidential Debate.”
“Now you have my mouth watering in anticipation,” Sotello said. “I remember the debate between the elder Bush, when he was President, and Bill Clinton. I remember Clinton asking Bush, over some reference during the debate, if Bush senior was questioning his patriotism. I believe, without a doubt, if Bush senior would have walked right over in that draft dodging, traitor’s face, and said, ‘I not only question your patriotism, I question your right to even be called a man. You not only shirked your duty to America, you went abroad like a Manchurian Candidate, and protested against America on foreign shores, while your countrymen were dying in Vietnam. You sir, are a disgrace.’ Bush senior would have been elected in a landslide. There would have been people on their feet, cheering at their televisions, all across the country. Bush senior was a certified war hero, and if Clinton didn’t like what he said, or tried to bully him, Bush should have popped the cowardly little weasel. Hell, at least Davidson served his country.”
Phillips laughed painfully at the highlights of Sotello’s animated diatribe, as Sotello described his feelings, and acted out what he would have done. Phillips shook his head. “Jim, you are something else. I am starting to believe you know what you’re talking about though, because you have been playing it right to the hilt so far, without a downside.”
“I will keep playing it just like I have been,” Sotello confirmed. “If I cannot debate Davidson on the issues, then I shouldn’t be running for Governor in the first place.”
“Okay then,” Phillips sighed, “a debate it will be, but at least let me bargain for a neutral site, and a decent moderator.”
“So long as I don’t duck him,” Sotello agreed. “I don’t care where you get it set up.”
“You won’t have to worry about the offer,” Phillips said. “After today, they will be battering our doors down with an offer of anytime, and anywhere. They won’t mean it, but at least I will have a bargaining chip. Do you think we should pick the subjects?”
“Why,” Sotello asked. “What subjects will Davidson want to talk about? We are in the middle of an energy crisis, gang violence is up, and our borders are the most porous in the world. We have a Red Chinese puppet company trying to own a base on California soil, and he has not even mentioned it. Even with the advent of 911, the man has not enforced the California borders. What the hell will he want to debate?”
“He will take the touchy-feely side of everything you mentioned,” Phillips replied. “You will be the xenophobic, anti-environmental candidate, who will take away a woman’s right to choose. On the gang and crime problem, Davidson will call any solutions you have simplistic, and an open door to fascism.”
“Wow,” Sotello laughed, “maybe we should just hide. I don’t want the nasty man to call us names.”
Phillips laughed, and grunted in protest, as his face reminded him of what he needed not to do. “Enough levity, now get out of here, and go to your office. The press will need to get a hold of you. Keep working on your delivery. If you can deliver lines without hesitation, which cut right to the heart of the subject or remark, you will gain votes with every sentence.”
“Play the tape of your performance over and over. Pick out your weak points, and go through the news channels to pick up tip offs as to the tone they will take with you next time. Lastly, do not dwell on programs where they appear to be hosting love fests for you. We need to know what your enemies are doing, not your friends. Keep your mind on what you need to do, and ignore the personal attacks. When they start calling names, you can be sure they have run out of arguments. Call me here if you get an idea, or you see anything troubling you think we need to talk over.”
“I will Adrian,” Sotello promised. “You take care of yourself. I hope this does not get any more violent than it already has. After the escalation this morning, the only more fanatical approach they have left would be snipers from the rooftop.”
“Keep that in the back of your mind too,” Phillips said seriously. “I will come over to your office tomorrow morning after I get released. We’ll go over any offers you get then. Do not make promises until I get a look at the offer, okay?”
“No problem,” Sotello agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you want me to have Craig pick you up?”
“No,” Phillips said, shaking his head. “I’ll just take a taxi over. Look over my car though. It’s the maroon Mercury Sable down the street, on the same side as your office, towards Foothill Blvd. Keep the cell phone you gave me the number for handy. See you later.”
“I’ve got it in the car, but I’ll start carrying it. Your car, I will take a look at it as soon as I get back to the office,” Sotello promised. Sotello waved to him as he went around the partition.
Chapter 28
Back To Business
Sotello’s journey down to his car went a lot slower, thanks to his sudden celebrity status. He found out quickly, if he stopped to talk for any length of time, he drew a crowd. Back in the Dodge, Sotello took out his direct link phone, to check for any messages from either Craig or Ellen. It rang as soon as he switched it on.
“Dad, it’s Ellen. I saw your performance on the Beavis and Butthead Show,” she said excitedly. “Can you do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Would you address my Political Science class tomorrow? My Professor ran me to ground today, and made me promise to ask you.”
“Let me get this straight,” Sotello said, in some confusion, “the same Political Science Professor you call Comrade Halloran wants me to address her class, and you want me to do it?”
“The students in the class aren’t all commies. I thought it would be a great way to get you introduced to the younger crowd, who I might remind you, will be voting in the election.”
“If you can take it El, so can I,” Sotello agreed. “They won’t attack us, will they?”
“Comrade Halloran might have a stroke, but she won’t do anything physical.”
“What time do you want me there?” Sotello asked. “Adrian will be coming over for a planning session tomorrow morning. I could bring him too. He knows how to handle academic lefties better than I do.”
“My class starts at ten,” Ellen said, “and I think bringing Mr. Phillips would be a great example of what happens when liberals run out of words.”
“How are your ribs holding up, speaking of injuries?” Sotello asked. “I forgot to ask you if you may have gotten jostled around this morning.”
“I’m fine,” Ellen told him. “With a little makeup, I can even cover up the leftover marks on my face. Are you going to the office yet?”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Have you talked to Craig?”
“Yep,” Ellen answered. “I watched the tape of the show with him after classes were over.”
“You’ve been back at the office already today?” Sotello asked. “Do I have to get a police escort to get in there?”
“Nope. Uncle Jay received permission to swing by our office a bit more than normal, and he called to let me know. He said you seem to be remaining incommunicado. Uncle Tank told me to tell you not to forget about signing the complaints, and to carry your damn cell-phone,” Ellen told him. “His words, not mine.”
“I will. I couldn’t take it on the show with me this morning. Anyway, do you two want to have dinner with me this evening at the house?”
“I’ll check with Craig, but I can make it. What time?”
“Let’s make it around 6:30,” Sotello told her. “I’ll be going over to the office for the remainder of the day, and tie up some loose ends. Adrian gave me my homework assignment for tonight. You guys can stick around and help me with it.”
“Sorry Dad,” Ellen said. “I’d like to, but I will have to do work of my own. Did you think any more about what to do with our appointments?”
“I am scaling back as I can, so you and Craig won’t be buried. The only big deal coming down happens between the 6th and 9th of October,” Sotello replied.
“Yea, the Taiwanese, right?
“Craig will be handling most of that. I will only be along as a bodyguard, and I’ll where a hat or something to improve my chances of not being recognized. If I keep getting my face plastered all over the papers and television, I may end up the Governor of the state, but I will not be able to walk out of the house without a disguise.”
“I forgot how all of this will affect even the smallest parts of the business,” Ellen laughed. “If you lose, it could mean a big up surge in business for us.”
Sotello: Detective, ex-FBI, ex-Secret Service (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 1) Page 32
