The Golden Boy Returns (The New Pioneers Book 5)

by Deborah Nam-Krane

  Two days later, the MBTA scheduled three community meetings to air grievances and identify the most important upgrades that needed to happen immediately.

  David was summoned to Lucy's office the next day.

  This time he barely got to close the door before she began. "Do you think you've made your point yet?"

  David held up his hands. "I swear to you, I had nothing to do with the stories. Someone else initiated this."

  "Does this someone have a name?" Lucy asked icily.

  "Addie Green, the wife of—"

  "I know who Addie Green is," Lucy said, but her face softened. "Fine," she said after a moment, "but this has to end now."

  David froze. "What has to end?"

  "Your name—and face—in the paper, or you are going to end everything else."

  "I don't understand."

  "That is painfully obvious." She gestured for him to sit and he obeyed. "Why do you think the MBTA called those meetings?"

  "I imagine they read the articles."

  "Not 'they'," Lucy said pointedly. "One very important person: the governor's press secretary. He brought it to the governor's attention—before it was published—and the governor is the one who called the general manager of the MBTA and told him to convene the meetings."

  "How is this a bad thing?"

  "David, do you have a magic wand?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "I'm sure you're familiar with the idea. It's a stick you wave around, say some nonsense phrase and then, voila! Your wish is suddenly made true."

  "No," David said slowly. "I don't think those exist."

  "I guarantee you they do not. Even if they do, I don't have one, you don't have one and the governor certainly doesn't have one."

  "The governor would need a magic wand to improve the MBTA?" David asked incredulously.

  "No, David, the governor needs money in order to improve the MBTA and most importantly a change in the law." She paused. "Can I assume that you took at least one political science class that covered the Big Dig?"

  "Yes…?"

  "And do you know which entity is responsible for financing most of the debt?"

  "The MBTA," David answered as he felt himself sinking into his chair.

  "Did it occur to you that this might have something to do with the poor condition of the lines?"

  "First of all, as I said, I didn't initiate the series. But second of all, is it a bad thing for the governor to be reminded of everyone's dissatisfaction with it?"

  "The governor does not need a reminder. He has been trying since he came into office to restructure the debt. Do you know what's stopped him?"

  David swallowed. "The legislature."

  "The legislature," she repeated. "The almost all Democratic legislature representing a majority Democratic state. Most of them would rather eat glass than be seen voting for something that might be perceived to cost drivers on the Mass Pike an extra quarter through the tolls. By highlighting this issue, you are only drawing attention to the fact that he can't get enough votes in the legislature—particularly the House—to make any kind of real change."

  "So public testimony isn't going to affect any of those lawmakers? It doesn't occur to them that upgrading the whole system is good for everyone, including the people who ride the commuter rail into the city from their districts?"

  "I guarantee again that they are not going to hear anything new in any of those meetings. And I can equally promise that even if they care, they are terrified that their constituents will think they are putting Boston's interests above theirs. And I can finally assure you that this issue will come to a vote, and it will lose." He felt like he was withering under her stern glare. "There is one thing worse than bad press, and that's good press that's destined to make you look like a fallen hero before you've actually done anything."

  He suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands. It didn't matter that he hadn't done this because he still owned it.

  "What do I do?"

  "I don't want to see your name in any paper for the next four months. When you're asked to comment on the inevitable loss in the House, you're going to release an official statement, thanking the legislature, the governor, and Quick Wheels for working together for the good of the commuters of Boston and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. You’d be well-advised to send it to my office first so my assistant can approve it. In fact, until we can find you an assistant of your own, pass on all official communications through me."

  "Assistant?" David almost exclaimed. "I can't afford—"

  Lucy waved him off. "Co-op student in business. We'll pay a stipend." She looked at her watch. "Go, and if I have to call you in here again within the next six months I am going to seriously reconsider our program. Is that clear?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Good."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lucy Bartolome Hendrickson had been born with a silver spoon with her mouth. But so had her brother Tom, her sister-in-law Annabelle and Annabelle’s husband Stephen Abbot (even if his had been a bit tarnished even then). She had also been blessed with a brain in her head. Her late husband Jim had been born with both as well, though his heart was just a little too big. But that's another story.

  Lucy had seen many people rise and fall. Those whose names had been shouted the loudest were the ones who usually fizzled out just as quickly. It didn't matter whether it was politics, business or love; it seemed to hold in all walks of life that the brightest flames burnt out the quickest.

  Lucy was a Bartolome and a Leighton, and she had always understood that she had a responsibility to maintain both names. (The fact that Tom didn't care what people thought of him only served to impress that point on her even more.) The thought of seeing her name—particularly the last name she was born with—in the papers made her frown, and she did her best to make sure those mentions were few and far between.

  Thoughts of her son Richard made Lucy smile (as long as she was sure no one was looking). Richard didn't just want to do good, he wanted to do it with his own hands. (She suspected that he got that from her husband's mother, but she couldn't be sure.) She was prouder of him than anyone could have imagined.

  David reminded Lucy of Richard. They both had the heart, the brains, and the will, but David lacked the means. She was happy to give him the means as he understood what to do with them. However, he needed to do two very important things first: he needed to admit what he really wanted, and he needed to learn that publicity was a cheap shortcut to it.

  Lucy knew that David must know by now that what he really needed was power. Power wasn't a dirty word if it was used properly and if it were a means to an end. So many people overestimated its protective benefits, particularly when coupled with publicity. Power was as subjective as anything else; it was a means, not an end.

  She had recognized as soon as she'd read his proposal that he had a vision, and it had been a long time since someone with any kind of vision or novel idea had dared to approach her. It was idealistic but not flaky. He wanted to address the root of a problem. He would have made a perfect technocrat, but he was too charismatic in spite of himself to make that work. No, he had the makings of a good leader.

  She looked at the newspaper on her desk. As soon as he learned to control himself, that is.

  ~~~

  The Quick Wheels rental program added even more cars and locations. Within two months, Ernie and David were fielding calls from other neighborhoods to begin similar programs.

  "So why don't you look happy, Mr. Hwang?" Ernie asked one afternoon.

  David leaned back. "Generational thing, Ernie. It's bothering me to see so many cars on the road."

  Ernie frowned. "Okay, David. You've proven you can get cars out there. Now you want to call them back?" He shook his head. "Son, when are you going to stop making everything so hard for yourself?"

  "It's not fun if it isn't hard," David said with a smirk.

  A few weeks later, David studied the stats for the rental progr
am to figure out where people were going the most. "Food shopping," he murmured to himself. Four locations stood out more than any other: Market Basket, Star, Trader Joe's and Tropical Market.

  Ernie and David went to meet with the general manager of Tropical Market the next week. Two weeks later, they had in place an agreement to begin a delivery service for an added charge that represented one-half of the hourly rates the discounted Quick Wheels rental would have cost.

  Ernie chuckled as they drove home. "David, how badly did Lucy Bartolome threaten you if your name showed up in the papers again?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Because I think you convinced that man that this was all my idea. Hell, I'm almost convinced."

  "She threatened me a little," David said sheepishly, "but I also don't want to look like too much of a media whore."

  "Uh huh. So tell me, when we go to meet with Trader Joe's, am I going to be the genius in charge then too? Or are you even going to be in the room?" Ernies asked mockingly.

  "Trader Joe's? Whoa there! Let's not get crazy."

  Ernie grinned broadly. "Come on, Mr. Hwang; it's not fun unless it's hard."

  "Oh, God!" David groaned.

  Ernie patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll help you write the proposal before you send it to Lucy for approval."

  "Why should Trader Joe's go to any trouble to deliver to your neighborhood?" Lucy asked Ernie and David two weeks later as they met in her office.

  "Because they didn't bother to try and build a store anywhere close to it."

  Lucy frowned at David. "Be more creative. How many big businesses do you think you can blackmail with bad public relations?"

  "—And we represent a substantial amount of untapped revenue potential, as I outlined in my proposal."

  "Market research indicates that there is even more untapped potential in Beacon Hill and Back Bay. For the amount of money you're suggesting they spend on this delivery program they could advertise to those markets and get a much larger return on investment."

  "I disagree," David said. "Those customers would demand higher end products that Trader Joe's would have trouble integrating into their existing product mix given their limited space."

  "Haven't you heard? The middle class Trader Joe's currently caters to is disappearing. They're going to have to make that switch eventually."

  "Whole Foods caters to the aspirational shopper, not necessarily just those with higher incomes. Trader Joe's value proposition is that they offer decent quality food at a reasonable price. If the middle class disappears, those with slightly higher incomes are going to become the new middle class and want to continue to get the kind of bargain Trader Joe's offers."

  "That just reinforces my point about Back Bay and Beacon Hill."

  "The people in our neighborhood are a more stable population. They aren't shifting nearly as much as half the population in Beacon Hill and especially Back Bay."

  "Also," Ernie added, "Trader Joe's has an opportunity to proactively create some good publicity for itself if it's seen as addressing the food desert problem."

  "How much do you think that will translate into sales?" Lucy asked.

  "This whole program will translate into sales," David insisted. "Especially when we include the cooking demos—"

  "—Which Trader Joe's in Boston does not have the space to accommodate."

  "But which the churches in our area do."

  "One in particular, I'm sure," Lucy said as she reread that part. Ernie grinned but didn't say anything. "Draft a letter asking them to come in and hear your ideas, but not at a community meeting—yet. They don't need you nearly as much as Quick Wheels did so don't waylay them."

  David nodded. "We already have the projections by street of how many customers they could have."

  "But you were planning on holding onto that until you secured their interest, right?"

  David froze. "Of course!" Ernie said quickly. "No reason to tip our hand at this point."

  "Very good," Lucy said as she stood up. "Send us the letter before you send it out."

  "Of course. Thank you for your time," David said as he and Ernie stood up and left.

  "Smoothest exit ever," Ernie muttered.

  "The longer I stay, the more likely I'll be injured."

  "David?" He turned around to face Lucy's assistant. "Mrs. Hendrickson wanted to make sure you received this." She handed him an envelope then walked away.

  David was in Ernie's car before he opened the envelope. "Oh, wow."

  "What is it?"

  "Nomination papers for City Council."

  Ernie frowned. "Our councilor isn't going anywhere."

  David reread. "At-large."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Erica and David met at the bar they used to visit during their college days. She congratulated him after he told her about the nomination papers and laughed. "So why do you look like someone punched you in the throat?"

  "I'm going to get killed if I run. I haven't done enough."

  "Sorry. I didn't realize there was another David Hwang who was working as a community development organizer. In Dorchester. That the Globe can't shut up about," Erica said sarcastically.

  "Oh, man!" he said, then took a swig of his beer. "Exactly. Everyone reading that is going to think I'm an overambitious idiot."

  Erica shrugged. "Well, one out of two." David sneered, and Erica giggled. "I’m kidding, you…idiot. You're going to need a thicker skin if you're going to run for city councilor."

  David smirked. "Why? I already know what everyone's going to say. ‘Green kid who doesn't stand a chance.’"

  Erica rolled her eyes. "So Lucy Bartolome is strongly encouraging you to run and you think she's not going to help fund you?"

  "There's only so much she can give me, you know."

  "Yeah, it's too bad rich people never talk to other rich people."

  David groaned. "Oh, no. She's not going to talk to them. She's going to give me their numbers so I can talk to them."

  "How is that bad?"

  "I have to ask them for money! This is going to be so humiliating."

  Erica threw her head back and howled. "Did you not realize this was part of the deal when you decided you wanted to do this someday?"

  "Yes, of course," David said miserably. "I just thought I'd have figured out how to do it by then—or that I'd have someone to do it for me."

  "Hon, what do you think most of those donations are for? Oh, and you'll probably have to promise a position on your staff."

  "You want to do it?" he asked hopefully.

  "Ha! I think I'll stay in grad school instead."

  "Thanks," he muttered, then drank more beer.

  ~~~

  There was no way Ernie could be David’s campaign manager either. "You're going to be running for office, which means you'll be here about a quarter of the amount of time you're here now. And you, in your brilliance, set up all these programs that someone is going to need to keep running. You know, to keep you looking good."

  David frowned. "I think you were in the room when Lucy handed me those papers. You know I didn't choose the timing."

  Ernie chuckled. "The look on your face is not one I'm going to forget soon! But you're the one who said yes, so stop acting like a little boy about it and go do what you have to do."

  David set his jaw. "Okay, but evidently the first thing I need to do is find a campaign manager."

  "Yes, you do," Ernie nodded. "And not just anyone. Someone who doesn't mind doing all the work while you take all the glory."

  "Now just a minute!"

  Ernie couldn’t keep a straight face. "Calm down, kid," he said between giggles. "Your name is going to be on everything, but you need someone who knows how to work behind the scenes. And don't worry—they're a special breed. They're the kind that usually get off on public service and don't expect a reward other than a job—and the fact that they know where all the bodies are buried."

  David frowned. "There isn't much I can prom
ise you, but 'no dead bodies' is definitely on that list."

  "Yeah, we'll see."

  ~~~

  David thought of everyone he knew, but no one was both connected and hardworking enough to fit the bill. After three days, he understood that he needed someone with deep ties who could point him in the right direction.

  "David, it is so nice to see you again!" Addie Green said when she opened the door to greet him. "Please come in."

  "Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Green."

  "I think I told you before: call me Addie."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Addie led him to the living room where she had set out coffee, tea, sandwiches and cookies. "You're such a skinny young man—I thought you could use a couple of extra calories while we chat."

  David sat down. "Thank you very much."

  "Now what brings you here?" Addie asked as she poured him some coffee. "I suspect it wasn't just for a snack."

  "I'm not sure if you've heard, but Councilor Jackman is vacating his seat, so it's open."

  Addie sat down. "Young man, contrary to popular belief, those seats are 'open' whether a councilor chooses to remain in it or not."

  "True," David conceded, "but it's much easier if the incumbent isn't running for re-election."

  "So it's true!" Addie exclaimed. "You're running for the seat?"

  "It's been strongly suggested that now would be a good time to do so," he said as tactfully as he could.

  Addie tried to suppress her smile. "I've always had great respect for that woman." She put her tea down. "Are you here to ask for a donation?"

  "No. At least, not yet. I don't have anything set up. All I've done is file papers. I need someone who knows what they're doing. I'm looking for a campaign manager, and I thought you might be able to tell me who I should talk to so I can find one."

  Addie lifted her tea cup up again. "Actually, I think I know the perfect candidate. Charlie Gavin would do an excellent job for you."

  David thought a moment. "Isn't Charlie Gavin on Councilor Chauncy's staff?" David had read up on every city councilor in Boston, as well as their chiefs of staff.

  "Yes," Addie said succinctly. "But I think he'd be very happy to take a job with you."