"Excuse me?" A voice interrupted her mid-paragraph. "These are private offices, ma'am. We only take visitors by appointment."
So it wasn't a waiting area. And ma'am? Was she really getting to be that old? Shrugging off any possible embarrassment that the bespectacled young assistant standing before her had intended to cause, she stood up, pleased to notice that she was taller than him. His expression faltered. "I think your boss, Harkiss, will want to see me," she offered, calmly tossing the magazine back on her chair.
"He has a very important deadline..." The newbie shut up when Robin flipped out her badge, his eyes widening. "Oh."
Yeah, Robin thought. Oh. Sometimes, she absolutely loved being an FBI agent. It was better than TV. Well, except for the long hours, the incredibly slimy people she had to arrest, and the mountains of unnecessary paperwork. On television, the heroes solved the crime in an hour. In reality, most FBI cases took months, even years.
"I-I'll take you back, then."
Robin gave him a wolfish smile and followed him through an open room with desks sprawled over the area. It reminded her of the FBI offices, except everyone was shouting and running around like chickens with their heads cut off. The pulsing glow of computer monitors illuminated everything and the harsh clicks of desktop keyboards – no typewriters anymore, of course – added a shifting undertone to the overlapping voices.
Dodging at least three worker bees that looked like they were in desperate need of a cup of coffee, or even just a five-minute break, Robin followed the assistant to a place near the center of the hive. "He's in there," he said. "Are you going to arrest him?" The assistant, or perhaps he was just an intern, seemed to have overcome his initial surprise, and now he wanted to be helpful, probably in the hopes of finding out what was going on. Robin couldn't really blame him. He worked for a newspaper, and being nosey was part of the job description. Besides, if she were a civilian and an FBI agent showed up at her office flashing a badge around, she would want to know what was going on, too.
Robin sighed. "I'm not arresting anybody." The assistant looked vaguely disappointed, and then relieved, possibly because he realized that having his boss arrested might mean a delay on his paycheck. Before he could offer any more observations, Robin opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her all the way just in case her guide decided to listen at the crack.
"Mr. Harkiss?"
The overweight, balding man sitting at the desk did not look away from his computer. "I told you, Stryswicki, I need it now! Not tomorrow, not this evening, now!"
Robin did not answer, content to wait for the editor to realize his mistake. "Stryswicki," he said again, "you should –" The sentence stopped abruptly as Harkiss finally checked to see who had entered his office. "Well, I'll be damned. How'd you get in to my office?"
Robin ignored the question and tossed her badge, face up, onto the surface of the desk. "The stairs, then the front door," she said dryly. "You should invest in an elevator." Or not, she added silently, examining the man's considerable girth. A little more weight and his tie would be resting horizontal to the floor.
Harkiss narrowed his eyes at her, and then looked back at the badge he had been examining. "You're Robin Hart?"
"Hopefully not for long. I need a little favor..."
Chapter 5
Cincinnati, Ohio: October 1st
Tess reluctantly allowed the makeup artist to swipe one last streak of powder under her cheekbone as Brian adjusted the collar of her blouse, making sure that it framed her necklace and throat just right. She sighed. Over the years, Tess had been given ample opportunities to practice holding still while everyone else fussed around her. She was an expert now.
"There, you're good," he said, giving her his seal of approval. Good. Tess gripped her sheet of paper lightly, reminding herself not to wrinkle it. In her opinion, she spent far too much time trying to achieve 'good', but it went with the job. Good looks, good image, good attitude. This was going to be her first televised debate with Congressman Saunders, and although she was nervous, her face was a mask of calmness.
"Go out there and knock one out of the park," Brian said, not looking particularly concerned. Although this was her first Congressional race, Tess had served in Ohio's state legislature, worked for her father in Washington, and participated in debates ever since she was a young teenager. She knew all of her positions backwards and forward, and the only things on the half-sheet were statistics. She hoped that she would only have to glance down at it occasionally. Eye contact was important.
Tess swallowed, fixed a smile on her face, and prayed that no one would be able to recognize it as fake. People’s hands guided her forward, prodding and pushing until she was standing just off stage. The paper crinkled noisily in her hand, but she ignored the outside stimuli, focusing inward. Her therapist – another luxury Tess's paycheck went toward – suggested picturing calm, dark pools of deep water. Tess preferred picturing nothing at all. Blankness. Empty space.
She took a deep breath, held it in her chest for a moment, and stepped out onto the stage. Cameras flashed and recorded. The bright lights stung her eyes, but she ignored it and waited for her pupils to dilate, waving at the applauding people.
Saunders and Michael Schope, a former Democrat now running as an Independent even though none of the political analysts thought that he had a chance, entered from the other side, taking their places beside her at the podiums. Saunders gave her his signature charming smile and extended his hand, which Tess took without a visible show of reluctance even though she did not want to touch him. She had disliked him before finding out that they were going to be opponents, and her distaste for his smarmy personality had only increased as Election Day drew nearer. They smiled and mouthed a few greetings at each other that could not be heard over the noise. Her greeting to Mike was, perhaps, a little more genuine.
"And hello, everyone, I'm George Rubio, coming to you from Cincinnati at..." Tess felt the words sliding together into a continuous, droning buzz and blinked, swallowing to pop her ears and regain her focus. She needed to be on her game tonight and leave a good impression. "- being broadcast live across the state. This is the first primetime debate for our three candidates, Tess Daubney, Cal Saunders, and Michael Schope."
Poor Schope, Tess thought to herself, keeping her smile stretched across her face. Always the afterthought.
"Welcome to all of you. You three drew numbers for order, and Mr. Schope, you're up first. Please give your introductions, but limit them to sixty seconds."
"Thank you, George. My name is Michael Schope, and I want to be your next Representative in Congress. If they could see into the future, our Founding Fathers never would have imagined that today's Congress could be such a bitter, bipartisan place."
Tess bit down sharply on the inside of one cheek. The pain helped her to focus. She was always mildly annoyed when politicians invoked the founding fathers.
The introductions seemed to drag on for eons even though they were timed at a minute each. Cal's contained mostly Democratic rhetoric: "send me to Washington, and I promise Washington will send back the Government programs and assistance you deserve."
Tess took in a breath and prepared to deliver her own from memory. She paused, however, when a face in the third visible row caught her eye. It was a tall woman with short, dark hair, busily writing on a notepad. That surprised her. Most members of the press were either recording or typing away on portable devices. She was going the old fashioned route.
Zeroing in on the pleasant face with its smooth features, she started speaking to her newly selected audience of one. "Thank you, everyone, and I would like to thank all the network affiliates for all the work they have done to host this debate..." Pause. "My name is Tess Daubney, and instead of telling you why you should elect me as your Representative to Congress, I want to tell you why I'm running."
The woman, and most of the crowd, looked up, listening intently. "Because the reasons are the same. The city budget
, the district budget, the state budget, the national budget, they're all broken. People don't have faith in Washington's ability to manage their money. And without money, nothing gets done. Representative Saunders," another pause, allowing people to look at him, "wants to do it by raising your taxes. I want to do it by slashing unnecessary government expenditures. That leaves valuable money in your pockets to stimulate our economy. Some people think that promising to keep taxes low will send our national debt skyrocketing, but I am confident that by cutting through all the red tape and changing the way things are done in Washington, we can reduce the deficit without overtaxing hard-working American citizens. I hope that you make a sound decision on November 2nd, a decision that will make your future healthier and brighter. Thank you."
"Thank you, Ms. Daubney, and thank you to our other candidates as well. Our first question is directly related to the deficit and our country's debt."
Schope laughed and Tess tried not to frown. Her cheek muscles ached from holding the smile. Maybe, she mused, that was why so many celebrities invested in botox. It made smiling for the camera easier. "My most unpopular position," he said. "Unlike the rest of the do-nothings in Washington, I'm open to listening to ideas about how to fix our nation's Social Security problem. Now, that might mean raising the retirement age and cutting benefits down the line..."
For a moment, Tess was jealous. Being an Independent, Schope could tell the truth about Social Security without alienating a large chunk of his voters. Older demographics tended to vote Republican anyway, although there were always exceptions, especially flower children from the sixties. Still, even on difficult issues like Social Security, Tess tried not to tell lies. She wanted to be an honest politician, even if that seemed like an oxymoron to most American voters.
When Rubio asked for her opinion, she gave it thoughtfully. "One step we can take right away to help ease our debt is to stop using the excess money Social Security takes in. That money should be allowed to grow so that the young, working people paying in to the system now can trust that it will still be there for them when it is their turn to retire. Using that extra money for other things is harmful in the long run."
Saunders took his turn. "We are an aging country. Lots of Americans depend on Social Security as their primary source of income. It would be wrong to take away benefits they need. However, Social Security needs an overhaul, and I am looking forward to working with Congress..." While her handsome opponent didn't look like the pontificating old goats that Tess usually pictured when she imagined wordy politicians, once he got going, he could go and go and go. His talents were wasted in the House of Representatives; he should have been filibustering in the Senate instead. Tess gave herself a mental shake. She could not think like that. So far, her father's name had served her well, and she was slightly ahead of him in the early polls.
"I'm sorry, Representative Saunders, but we've got to move on," Rubio said, interrupting him mid-speech and Tess mid-thought. For a moment, Tess found that holding her smile wasn't so difficult.
The questions on Social Security segued into illegal immigration. She fielded them with her usual competence and charm, but most of her attention was still focused on the attractive, dark-haired reporter in the third row. Even though she was here for work-related reasons, as evidenced by the notepad and unopened laptop she carried with her, she seemed interested in what the candidates had to say.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but Tess wondered if the strange woman's eyes lingered on her slightly longer than necessary.
Chapter 6
Cincinnati, Ohio: October 1st
Several questions later, Saunders seemed just as invigorated as ever, but Schope was looking tired. Tess knew his type, hard working and intellectual. A planner, but not a media darling. He did not know how to produce ten second sound bytes or smile for the camera lens. Perhaps that, more than any other reason, was why Tess felt less rancor towards him than Saunders, who thrived in the spotlight. During a brief pause in the battle, she took a drink from the bottled water provided for her.
"Now, we have a special surprise for all of you. In return for allowing us to use their brand new facilities, the students of Rock Ridge High School have requested that a few members of their student body be allowed to ask questions."
Schope looked surprised, but Saunders seemed unfazed. Tess perked up slightly. Winning over young voters, even those that were not eligible to vote in this particular election, was one of the things she hoped to accomplish as a fresh face in the Republican Party. She wanted to dispel the characterization of the GOP as an aging dinosaur that would soon become extinct, even though some of her colleagues seemed intent on doing everything they could to live up to the stereotypes.
A tall, thin girl with glasses and frizzy hair was escorted onto the stage and briefly introduced. Despite the unfortunate effect of the humidity on her hair – really? It shouldn't be so hot in October, even under stage lights – she was neatly dressed and carried herself well. She only looked a little nervous when the cameras swiveled to focus on her and a microphone was shoved into her hand. It took her a few test words to get the right distance, but her question came out clearly enough.
"Thank you for giving members of my class a chance to speak tonight. My name is Hillary Kincade and my question is: if elected, what would you do to support clean energy in our country?"
Tess smiled. This whole 'ask the students' thing was great PR, and she knew that Brian was probably eating it up backstage somewhere.
"Ms. Daubney, why don't you go first?"
"Well, first of all, Hillary, I like your glasses." She reached up to adjust her own and winked. Hillary and most of the crowd smiled. Over the years, various stylists had tried to make Tess abandon the glasses for contacts, but she had refused, and now they were an important part of her image. At least, that was what Brian claimed, pointing out that men liked the naughty librarian look.
"I think Republicans have the right ideas about taxes and aiding the growth of small businesses, but when it comes down to finding cleaner, more efficient ways to produce energy, I'm not afraid to break party ranks. The oil and coal industries don't have any ties to my campaign. I stand against overzealous government spending, but investing in alternative energy will save us money in the long run. So far, the current Congress," she looked over at Saunders, "hasn't made any progress on that front."
Saunders picked up where she had left off. "Obviously, my opponent has not examined my voting record very closely. I have voted with the president to invest in alternative energy sources, while her Republican colleagues in the Senate continue to block most of our efforts. They deny that climate change exists despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary because they've sold their soul to the oil companies..."
And you've sold yours to the credit card companies, Tess wanted to say, but she kept her thoughts to herself for the time being. Sometimes, being a woman worked in her favor. People looked like bullies if they insulted her, but insulting them in return only made her seem like a bitch. In certain situations, she had learned it was preferable to keep her mouth shut while looking pretty and professional. She would save the ball-busting moves for later.
Poor Schope didn't have much to add. Saunders had stolen his thunder. The next student was ushered onto the stage, a young man with an unfortunate case of acne, and he looked more uncomfortable than his classmate. "Uh, my name is Nate Harris and I want to ask: what is your position on marriage equality and anti-discrimination legislation like ENDA for LGBT people?"
Tess swallowed a groan, although she was not surprised. She had seen that one coming from a mile away. Young voters always seemed to ask about climate change and gay marriage. Schope went first this time, talking about how he supported some kind of partnership, but that answer had fallen out of favor years ago. Now, it was marriage or nothing among young voters, liberal or otherwise, it seemed. Secretly, Tess was pleased.
Fortunately, Saunders did not seem to have much else to say
on the topic, and Tess took her opening. "I would vote for the Employment Nondiscrimination Act if it came up in the House. As for same-sex marriage, the issue has already been decided at the federal level," she answered. That was as far as Brian would allow her to go. Fortunately, other Republicans had come out in favor of marriage equality before her, even though none of them were gay. "The rest of the decision is up to individual states, as stated in the 10th Amendment of the United States Constitution." No one was pleased with that answer, but no one was incredibly angry, either.
"I don't want any other words coming out of your mouth on the subject," Brian had warned her weeks ago, with a refresher every few days. Originally, he had tried pushing the sanctity of marriage line with her, but Tess flat out refused to win votes by demonizing anyone else, especially a minority group she happened to be a part of. "I don't care how many women you screw once you're elected to Congress, just stay as far away from that question as you can for the next few weeks."
Tess always felt that debates had a habit of pointing out the weaknesses in her arguments while bolstering her opponent's, but like a fencer, she took advantage of any openings she could. "Congressman Saunders, however, voted 'Nay' on ENDA when it came up in the House last session."
Accusing eyes fixed on Saunders. Ohio was a moderate state in comparison with, say, New York or Massachusetts, but the crowd was mostly made up of younger voters, and they had no patience for that kind of foolishness. "The bill was poorly written," he said smoothly. "It was hastily put together and forced businesses into a bad position. I would fully support a properly written bill."
Back on an even keel, Tess took another sip of her water and looked out into the crowd. Without her permission, her eyes wandered to the third row, slightly to the left, and fixed on the female reporter that had interested her earlier. She couldn't get a very good look, but from up on stage, her face looked fresh and clear. Hair was a little messy, but oh well. It was kind of endearing. Tess's stomach dropped when she realized exactly what she was doing: checking out another woman in the middle of a televised debate. Quickly averting her gaze, she narrowed her focus to Saunders, who was still giving his answer.
All The Pretty Things Page 3
