“I’m so sorry, Alek.”
She thought of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s quote about knowing a man’s true character when he was at the bottom, but actually she thought it was a better sign of character to see how they acted when they were on top. That wasn’t the case here, though. This wasn’t about Taylor’s character, which, she assured herself, was good, and more importantly, loyal.
“Every Sursday we would go to the peach pie place and the voman who knew us, she vould know exactly vhat we vanted.”
He’s just busy. Plus, Alek is annoying. It takes him a lifetime to get to his point.
Alek went on about the pies. “Now, no more!”
Olivia felt bad for Alek. Then she had a flash, wondering if this was how Marcy and Katherine talked about her, since she had not made it to Sunday brunch in at least a month. Campaigns were hard. It wasn’t as if she didn’t want to go to Sunday brunch. And it certainly didn’t mean she loved her friends any less. She would much rather be at a meal with friends than glued to her computer in her office.
“I know he misses the time when he could do that. Really, Alek. We’re all just doing the best we can.” She couldn’t figure out the war within her. She felt slightly annoyed at Alek and terribly sympathetic at the same time. She needed to help him but she wasn’t sure if she was doing it to placate a major donor or to redeem Taylor. Or if she was trying to remind herself that long friendships mattered most in life. She hung up, pledging to get some time on the schedule for Alek. And also to get to Sunday brunch.
As the governor started speaking to the Pottawattamie County Democratic Club, Jacob moved toward the back of the lobby. He ducked quietly off to the side and into the kitchen, a small, musty-smelling room where a few people were puttering around, putting chips into plastic bowls. He sat on a stool by the counter and began to answer emails and make calls.
You could always tell how long a staffer had been around his or her candidate by where they stood during a speech. People on the trail for one year would be as close to the podium as possible, hanging on every word that dropped from the candidate’s lips. Two to three years later they’d be in the room but paying little to no attention to anything around them. Three years or more and you could always find them sitting in an adjacent room, hiding out to do work, making calls, or just getting some food.
Jacob, now nearing his fifth year with the governor, knew every speech by heart. If he could have left the building completely, he might have. He answered emails, snacking on potato chips and ignoring calls until he saw Olivia’s number come up. He had been missing her since they spoke about Miami in the morning and he needed to make sure everything was okay.
“Hey, angel,” he whispered, and crunched down on a potato chip.
“Hey, Jacob.”
She only called him Jacob when she was stressed. “What’s going on? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just tired. Hey, I need to get Alek and the gov together for a meal.”
“Ugh, why? I need him to meet around eighteen million people. We don’t have time for the people he already knows.” She’s out of her mind, he thought, chomping down on two more chips. I’m not having him sit through a four-hour dinner with Alek.
“Please. I’ll make it easy. I can get Alek down to Miami and we can do dinner with him after the event. Please make this work, Jacob. I promise it will be worth it.”
He hated when she said “please” like that. He took a deep breath in, scrolling through the schedule. He had Taylor getting into Florida from Iowa at three forty-five, leaving barely enough time for him to get to the hotel, change, and race to the fundraiser. The Iowa day that preceded Florida was stacked, and the second day in Florida started at eight a.m. Adding in a late dinner made him tired on Taylor’s behalf just thinking about it.
“Shit, Liv. He’s going to be so tired.”
“There’s literally no other time I can do this. Alek says Taylor was his first friend in politics and now he can’t even get a meal with him. He’s feeling totally unloved, and unloved people don’t raise money.”
“They’re donors, Liv, not girlfriends. They don’t need to be loved.” Jacob looked up from his emails and peeked into the room to see the governor tightening the top on his water bottle, a telltale sign he was about ten minutes from being done. “All right, all right, I gotta go. Catch ya on the rebound.”
“Please try, Jacob,” he heard Olivia say as he hung up.
“Just a few more,” he whispered to no one in particular as he grabbed up another handful of chips. I don’t even like these, he thought, wiping off the grease on the inside sleeve of his blue blazer. Clearly everyone in politics wore blazers like this because nothing stuck to them. Well, at least in Iowa politics, where butter is more common than water. He pulled the lapels together and started to button it before remembering that on the last trip here he had realized this particular blazer had gotten too tight. Okay, so the tightness isn’t particular to this blazer, he thought, remembering that there was another Butter Burger stop on the schedule later that day. Great. I’m getting a beer belly without even getting to have the beer. He forced himself to walk around the room to where the governor was taking questions.
“What is your position on charter schools?”
Jacob recognized the tall, curly-haired lady from one of the school board events they had been to a month or so ago. Or maybe two months ago. Time really was flying, not to mention running together.
“Mrs. Stabile, it is so nice to see you again, ma’am.” The governor stepped toward her. “Mrs. Stabile and I met at the Jefferson Middle School just a few weeks back, where we talked with parents about the importance of after-school programs.”
Jacob shook his head, thinking he would never stop being impressed by the governor’s ability to remember names.
“If you really look them in the eyes, right at the bridge of their nose, you can sear the face into your memory,” Taylor had once told him.
Jacob had tried very hard that day to practice the new technique and had almost gotten slapped by a woman who thought he was checking out her plastic surgery. On top of which, he was so focused on staring at her eyes, he forgot to listen to her name or remember what color hair she had. There was no way he’d even recognize her, much less remember her.
“Harriston!”
The only thing he would have liked better than being able to remember people’s names was being able to convince a few specific people to forget his.
“Hey, Joe.” He grabbed the hand of the robust man standing before him in a plaid shirt tucked into dark jeans. Joe Ottingly was one of his Iowa county captains. He was fiftysomething, with spiky, short hair, a remnant of his military days, that was now almost completely gray. Joe stood too close and was always sweating more than seemed appropriate, but he was a hard worker, and Jacob needed him happy.
“Great event!”
“So good to see you, Joe. The numbers from your county are looking good!”
“Thanks, thanks.” Joe wiped his brow, moving the sweat around rather than getting rid of any of it. “Listen, we need money for the vans.”
“I know,” Jacob said, pacifying him. “Let me get back to my desk and work out where we can get it from.”
He knew where he would get it from, but this was a standard reply, promising, but without negotiating in person. He had been schooled in this process. “Y’all never commit money on the spot!” Henley had yelled at Jacob once, smacking the back of his head like a fraternity brother. Though the sting of the hit seemed harsh, the lesson was ingrained and he didn’t commit funds ever, even though he knew Olivia could get money in for something as utilitarian as a van. On my way to being a BSD, he reminded himself. Then he thought about upping Olivia’s goal yet again and emailed himself a reminder: Schedule that dinner with Alek.
Jacob and Olivia jumped into the backseat from either side of the black SUV and closed the doors at the same time, like they had been doing since that first event in Connecticut, whi
ch now officially seemed like four years ago. As the car sped up Park Avenue in New York City, Olivia started counting the money, and Jacob placated the governor post-event.
Having settled into his seat and taken a swig of water, the governor turned back to Jacob, who placed the governor’s BlackBerry in his outstretched hand, as per their routine. After the “Berry,” as the governor liked to call it, had rung in the middle of one of his speeches, Jacob had been tasked with minding it during events. He would switch it to vibrate and look out for “must-answer calls,” a.k.a. Billy and Aubrey. In recent months he had even gotten comfortable enough to answer some donor and political calls. Only the ones the gov is never going to call back anyway. At least this way they get to talk to a human, he thought, justifying it to himself, and, if they were calling for something, which they always were, there was a good chance he’d be the one asked to take care of the problem anyway.
The governor, now decently relaxed, took his BlackBerry and asked, “We good?”
Jacob looked slyly over at Olivia as she flipped through the last of the checks and shot him a thumbs-up. He smiled. Three events down and it wasn’t midnight. And every event had hit goal.
“We’re very good,” Jacob said. “All three events went over goal today.”
“Good, good,” the governor said, barely raising his voice.
Jacob turned and smiled at Olivia. The lack of enthusiasm was actually better than enthusiasm, and they both knew it. The governor knew they would hit goal, expected them to because they had been doing it all month. His relaxed mood, after three events, was the best approval of their work they could ask for.
“Let’s go over lists. Olivia, do you have time? Let’s get some food too. I’m starved.”
“That would be great!” Olivia blurted out.
“Sal, is there a place we could get a good steak around here? I’m fixin’ for one.”
Jacob couldn’t believe his bad luck. He had promised Sophie he would be out to meet her by ten. It was another promise he would have to break, he realized as he watched the clock turn to eight–forty. Hmpf, he grumbled inwardly. “Olivia, do you have time?” but, of course, there’s no asking Jacob. No “Hey, Jacob, do you have a special date planned? A medical emergency? Is your house on fire?” Not only does it not matter, it’s not even asked. To make things worse, Jacob had made Sophie begrudgingly change her plans to be near the Brinmore and now he wouldn’t even be there.
Olivia glanced his way and—as always—seemed to understand his expression.
“Actually, sir, I don’t have all the lists with me. Could we possibly land at the Brinmore so I can print stuff out? Sorry.”
“No, no, that will work actually.”
Jacob shot Olivia a smile. Stopping at the Brinmore wasn’t perfect, but it was definitely better than a restaurant somewhere farther away from his date.
Olivia was already clicking through her emails, no doubt trying to pull lists. Fundraisers seemed to have a greater supply of names and numbers than the white pages and an endless desire to go through them. She actually looked sincerely enthused. Guess she’s not getting laid. Jacob laughed to himself, thinking about how easily campaigns substituted for sex for campaigners. He hadn’t heard her mention any dates at all since she started. Maybe there was no one, or maybe she was seeing someone secretly. Those were usually the two choices on a campaign. She did date Chris for a while. What an asshole that guy was. He sat back, glad to be dating Sophie as it seemed like such a dose of normalcy. I’m finally getting it right, he thought, congratulating himself. Perfect campaign. Perfect girl. Perfect balance.
Olivia scanned through her emails looking for new lists sent from Addie, whom Olivia had assigned to constantly search for new sources of names. Olivia had tons they could go through but she wanted the perfect ones. Going over lists was a lot like playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. With a really good list you could make connections from the donors on it to the governor in fewer than six moves. When the governor turned around to her, she tried not to let her panic at failing to be perfectly prepared show. He leaned back with a calm smile. “So how was Texas?”
“It was hilarious.” Olivia had been wanting to tell someone how funny Texas was all week, but no one who didn’t know Henley or the intricacies of campaign fundraising would understand. No one except Jacob and the governor. “First of all, I walk off the plane and outside the gate is none other than David Henley, cowboy hat and all, in his little red Tesla.”
Jacob knowingly chimed in: “He looks like a kid in one of those motorized cars when he drives that thing.”
“Exactly!” Olivia grabbed his arm, so glad to be able to say something and not need to offer further explanation. The more time she spent on the campaign, the more she realized how inexplicable her experiences were to anyone not on it. Her sister had stopped pushing her on the “all good” responses at least a month ago, and she hadn’t even told Olivia where she and Katherine were going to meet the past two Sundays. Olivia was officially off the Sunday brunch list. She thought about her exclusion with a healthy dose of guilt, but also with a bit of relief. It was so hard to have to talk through her stress about a filing, a campaign issue—things they knew and cared nothing about. “I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but to me it is,” she would say to blank stares. It seemed the more she tried to explain, the less they understood. What did they want her to say? That she was in love with her boss? So they could talk her through it? There was no time for that. And more importantly, there wasn’t time for the emotions she might find.
As Olivia continued on with her Texas stories, Taylor and Jacob laughed and listened like girls at a slumber party.
She told them all about how David had handed her ten one-thousand-dollar checks before he even said hello. She had sat in his little red sports car, knees squished together, while simultaneously trying to control her hair flying in the wind and tightly gripping her large black bag (“the briefcase,” as Jacob termed it) as they sped from Henley’s law firm to every other law firm Henley knew. Olivia and Henley would walk into each, Henley strutting, his cowboy boots, complete with spurs, tapping on the marble floors, tipping his hat to the secretaries, whom he’d soon come back to take contributions from.
“Put a little hop in that step, darling,” he’d yell to Olivia as she power-walked behind him in the heels she now regretted changing into back at the airport.
Without fail, they would go into the partner’s office, talk about the latest trial, and switch over to the campaign, at which point he would lean over to Olivia and say, “This little darlin’ is Landon’s right arm.” Then he would let out a roaring laugh. “And his left too!”
Olivia, of course, would play along, as she’d learned to, mentioning tidbits about the campaign trail that made her sound even more of an insider than she was. When she had first started, she hesitated to name-drop until she figured out that it wasn’t bragging at all. Letting donors think she was in close contact with Landon let them feel that they were too. Not to mention they would repeat whatever tidbit she had disclosed (Governor Taylor had to actually taste the fried butter at the Iowa State Fair!) to anyone and everyone they saw, transferring the experience so that the donor would seem closer. And he’s a fabulous kisser, she longed to add.
With the partner suitably seduced by Olivia’s fried-butter anecdote, the three would then walk the halls of the law firm asking for contributions at each office door. Olivia had never seen anything like it in her life. She would quietly walk behind Henley and the partner, unsure if it was even legal to ask partners, associates, and even secretaries to write out checks.
“I think some of them actually think my name is Darlin’,” she told Jacob and the governor.
Jacob chuckled. “So how much is in hand from your trick-or-treating-style fundraising?”
“Three twenty!” she gleefully exclaimed.
The governor put his BlackBerry down on the dashboard and turned around to Olivia, both eyebrows raised.
“Seriously?”
“Yup! The trip is going to do four hundred.”
“Holy crap!” Jacob smacked her on the arm.
“What he said!” The governor shook his head in amazement.
Olivia smiled. She was proud. It wasn’t just the money. It was knowing she had found her niche. She was with people who understood her. She went back to pulling up lists and found herself subconsciously humming the song “Walking on Sunshine.” She giggled with happiness, remembering her sister’s theory that people always wound up humming songs that fit how they felt in that moment.
Walking into the Brinmore was always accompanied by a bit of relief for Jacob. He likened the hotel to an enclosed dog park where you could let the dog off the leash. The governor knew the place well enough that he could find his way from the lobby to the room to the restaurant on his own, a skill set that in other places proved more elusive than it should have for a presidential candidate.
“Y’all meet back here in fifteen? That good?” said the governor.
“That’s great,” Olivia said obligingly. Jacob smiled again at her, knowing she probably could have used at least twenty-five minutes to pull lists, but was clearly conscious of Jacob’s need to get out as soon as possible. As the elevators closed on Taylor, Jacob and Olivia headed toward the business center.
“Loving you right now,” he said, following her as she walked briskly.
“Oh, did you have something tonight?” Olivia turned back to look at him sarcastically, one eyebrow lifted.
He grinned, admitting he had told her maybe four too many times about the date tonight, along with each change in time and place.
“Yeah, I figured we weren’t getting out of it.” She turned into the business office at the hotel like it was her own. “So I decided we should get it as close as possible to where you needed to be for Sophie.”
“I totally owe you one.” He plopped down on a chair next to her as she went to work, once again pulling up lists.
Domestic Affairs Page 18
