“Only someone totally ignorant of the workings of government and politics would propose the brash and completely un-thought-out, pie-in-the-sky schemes that you propose. While you would be spinning your wheels in the mud, I would be making real progress one step at a time, with the help and support of my constituents, in an organized, unchaotic, well-planned manner and at a pace that everyone would be comfortable with. Maybe you want to move fast like a magician using speed to accomplish his sleight of hand, but that’s a trick and only a fool would really believe in magic tricks. Perhaps you think your constituents are fools, Ms. Grace?” More gasping and a low whistle.
“Of course I’m not trying to fool anyone.” She said this and smiled as if she were attending a tea before she added, “But when people prefer to think of the things that they don’t understand as ‘magic’—I think they are the fools, Mr. Douglas.” She looked him in the eye and widened her smile. Mary hastily called for a break and a wrap, and the red light in the camera went off.
Jimmy Mack jumped from his seat. “I didn’t get my share of air time. I demand another chance. You invited me on your show and then you ignored me. I’ll have my people call you and you are going to schedule a taping with me alone!”
Mary looked at him, and then glanced at Madeline and Peter.
“Without them? Not on your life.”
“I’m the only sane one here. It’s perfectly clear.” He began to turn red. Peter stood up at that.
“Is that so, Jimmy? Your political machinery has broken down. The curtain has been pulled aside and there’s no more great and powerful Oz. You’ve been exposed, Mack. And I for one will be glad to do this commonwealth the service of continuing to expose you.” Peter moved closer, focusing all his attention on the outraged Jimmy Mack. The man stood his ground, though, and Madeline had to give him credit for not flinching, although his color did deepen to an alarming purplish red.
“You’ll be sorry you said any of that, Mr. High and Mighty,” Jimmy boomed. Madeline saw that Peter’s face looked dangerously pleasant.
“So now you’ve resorted to the proverbial threat. You’re turning into a caricature of yourself right before my very eyes, Jimmy old boy.” Madeline recognized the razor sharp glint in Peter’s eyes, the false smile that bared his teeth, not quite a sneer. The entire studio was watching. They hadn’t moved off the set, and she spied one of the cameras running. It looked like Peter noticed that too and he continued with renewed vigor. Mary saw the opportunity and moved in.
But when Jimmy Mack saw what was happening, looking at the red light on the camera, he backed up. Sanity, if not good sense, seemed to reassert itself in Jimmy’s eyes. She was glad the confrontation didn’t escalate further. And she wasn’t surprised that Jimmy Mack blinked first.
“We can discuss this all at a real debate in a reasonable manner. I’m not the kind of man who’s interested in a slap fest now here with you. Really, Ms. Porter, I’m surprised at you. You always seemed more civilized than this. You look almost bloodthirsty, as if you can’t wait for a fight. Well, I have no intention of being involved in a political fist fight.” He looked around meaningfully at everyone in the group. Peter was undaunted, but Madeline had to give Mack credit for the show of control.
“Okay. I challenge you to a debate anywhere, anytime. The good people at this studio, being witness to the challenge, can of course have the first opportunity to air it if they so choose.” Peter turned to the station manager, who like everyone had come out to the set and was now approaching Peter.
“Looks like an excellent idea. You’ve put on an excellent show for us—and get your points across as well, of course. It’s a win-win deal. We’ll call your people and set it up.” He shook Peter’s hand and then turned to shake Jimmy Mack’s hand as well.
“Will I be asked to join this debate?” Madeline stood and walked over to the men. She needed to think fast to compete after the drama of all this testosterone. She had to admit it was a tough act to follow, but she was up to it. She’d addressed the station manager alone, not even glancing at the others.
“Not this one. I think we want a one-on-one with these two men. That’s the idea, right?” He looked at the two men for assistance. Madeline glanced at Mary and at the camera to see that it was still running. Mary nodded her head. Neither of the men said a thing.
“Okay. Then perhaps you might consider a one-on-one between me and the leading party candidates in the future, as well?”
“Yes, of course we’ll consider it.”
“Sounds great.” Jimmy Mack jumped at the chance for additional exposure, as she knew he would.
“Hey, let’s remember, people, I’m not your campaign manager. We have a lot of programming options to consider,” the station manager said.
“Fine.” Madeline smiled and reached to shake the man’s hand. “We’ll see how receptive the audience is to today’s segment when it’s aired. Then my campaign manager will contact you and the other stations in the area, and we’ll see which station might be interested—” She got no further before the tediously predictable man changed his attitude.
Of course he was interested.
Chapter 5
“It’s getting late. Remember? The Fourth of July? The mayor of Boston’s gala? It starts right after the Pops and the fireworks. Formal black tie at the Ritz and a late supper with an orchestra, probably some speeches.” Sarah pushed the invitation across the table until it was impossible for Madeline to ignore.
“The other candidates will be there. You have to go,” Sarah insisted.
“The mayor wants to check us all out personally to see who he can gain the most from.” Madeline spoke without looking up or losing a beat on the keyboard. Sarah drummed her fingers and sat at the table across from her.
“Be right with you.” Madeline finished typing her sentence and looked up from her laptop. “There are too many invitations. I have at least four places to be every day of the week.”
Jonathan walked into the room.
“And to think we were worried that you’d disappear into oblivion. Instead you’re getting press like a rock star—or should I say supermodel?” He waved some newspaper clippings at her. “Here are the latest photos. At least the captions have some substance.”
“Goody. Just what we need—more photos.” She waved him off to hang them on the board on the wall in a giant collage. Pictures of her could be found in all the state’s major papers every day this week. Sarah kindly had them clipped for her. It was Valerie’s idea to pin them up on the board in a line to show her steady progress toward a large picture of the state house—as if she were on her way. Maybe.
“I’m starting to feel like a supermodel—which wouldn’t be so bad except that I’m actually a candidate for governor. The polls have me tied with PJD for the women’s vote, but I’m way down with the men.”
“Tonight’s your chance to get taken more seriously. Courting the mayor of Boston is serious business.” Sarah rose. She didn’t smile, but Madeline could see the excitement in the gleam of her eyes.
“He’s not going to support me, and I doubt he’ll refrain from throwing stones at me.”
“No, but he’ll like PJD even less.” Sarah folded her arms across her chest with confidence.
Jonathan finished pinning up the photos with a flourish. “Even if the mayor only thinks you’re destined to be lieutenant governor, he’ll want to win your favor to influence the administration under PJD,” he pointed out, and Sarah frowned.
“That’s the hook I’m counting on.” Madeline got up from the table that was her makeshift desk and glanced at the muted TV in the corner of the room that was always tuned in to the local news. “The fireworks at the Esplanade are winding down. Time to go.”
The crew dispersed as if she waved a magic wand. She felt a butterfly of trepidation, but it wasn’t the mayor she was worried about. Peter would be there. She pushed the thought aside and concentrated on dressing for the occasion.
“You
’re wearing that?” Sarah frowned after one look at Madeline when she emerged from her room.
“You don’t like my Grace Kelly look?” Madeline’s hair was swept up in a French twist and she wore a choker of pearls. She turned in a smooth motion, showing off the evening gown that was a straight column of black fluid microfiber. There was no twirling of frills or fluff.
“You have bare shoulders. Don’t you think that’s too daring?” Sarah looked at her in a pointed way. Madeline looked at Sarah’s long-sleeved, street-length dress and thought it was more suitable for someone’s cousin’s wedding.
“I’m not going to the junior prom and you’re not my mother,” Madeline said. Then she sighed and softened her tone. “My gown is the height of fashion, you know that.” They’d already had this discussion, long ago when they’d purchased her campaign wardrobe. Valerie popped into the living room-inner office.
“Perfect. You look elegant. Classy and gorgeous.”
Jonathan walked through the open door as he knocked on it. He let out a whistle. They all turned and gaped at him. That gave Madeline a moment’s hesitation about her outfit. Her Jonathan Lake was not prone to whistling at women.
“See there. You need to be taken more seriously than that. I say you change the dress.” Sarah looked smug.
“Don’t overreact, Sarah. No one’s labeled me a beauty queen yet. The people can see past the pretty face. They’re smart enough to know better.” Madeline was about to pick up her useless tiny evening purse when she realized they were all staring at her as if she had lost her mind. With her hand hovering over the glittery envelope-sized bag, she stared back. This was one of those moments she hated. Either she was insanely wrong or they all were. This time she passed the test of her confidence.
“I’m going dressed like this. This is who I am. Let the chips fall.” It wasn’t really bravado, she told herself. She needed to maintain her own identity as much as possible. Whatever that was. And she was not wearing this dress for PJD. They paraded to the door behind her, but Sarah was the only one going with her.
“You want to be taken seriously?” Sarah continued to pout in the taxi on the way over.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I should hide under a paper sack, either. Dressing in professional business suits for professional appearances is appropriate. But I can’t very well show up for this occasion in a business suit. Besides, you said our sources at the mayor’s office told you this is an insider party, not a big media show. We won’t have a lot of photographers tonight.”
“My source made a particular point of mentioning that. Made it sound almost like an audition being run by the mayor for the distinction of having his endorsement—or for a chance to avoid being subjected to his criticism.”
“Then don’t worry. We’ll be there early. I can melt into the crowd and hide from any cameras that show up. I’ll talk to who I need to talk to.” Madeline thought Sarah was finally placated, but no.
“This is ridiculous—a political candidate hiding from media attention…” Sarah was more agitated than ever. Madeline sighed.
“Only a certain kind of media attention. We have to work it carefully.” Madeline knew they’d hardly begun. The primary races would be starting in earnest now and she would have to fight to maintain any media coverage. Her appearance on the public TV talk show had given her a small boost, but she knew that wouldn’t last—not long, anyway.
The ride to the Ritz was a short one, but they were hardly dressed for even a short walk. The minute they pulled within sight of the entrance, Sarah gasped. Madeline snapped her head around to look through the front window. Geez.
“You can forget about your so-called insider information at the mayor’s office from now on.” Madeline put on her mental suit of armor and hoped it was enough. It was either that or track shoes. Thinking about running away—she had to cut that out.
The canopied entrance had been cordoned off with velvet ropes and laid with a red carpet, in the best Hollywood extravaganza tradition. When she noticed the spotlight flashing its beam in an arc, she groaned, but only on the inside.
But what she found most troublesome were the dozens of photographers surrounding the entrance, along with what appeared to be several TV camera crews. Was the mayor crazy? There were the usual logos identifying the various TV stations on the video equipment. This certainly changed things. They would all have to behave as if they were being watched every second, because they would be. The mayor must be counting on a misstep by someone. Or maybe he was caught up in the glamour of his own self-importance. He’d gone way out of his way to duplicate the aura of a Hollywood opening—and to blindside at least this candidate.
They were not the only ones to arrive early, and they had to wait in line to pull up to the red carpet to disembark. There were the usual liveried doormen and more. When the woman getting out of the car in front of them turned out to be a dressed-to-kill model, wife of a local businessman, Madeline sighed a breath of relief. As long as there was no dearth of glamorous people to soak up the attention of the media, they would find it easier to let her play a more serious role.
Their cab pulled up to the carpet and Sarah paid the fare. Madeline was about to open her door when it was flung wide by the young uniformed man on the other side. The steamy night air hit her, and she glanced back over her shoulder at her friend. It was good to have a friend at a time like this. Sarah pushed her through the door.
“Let’s get on with it,” Sarah said.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Madeline shot back. Then she stepped outside as the uniformed man took her hand. She stood alone on the carpet and looked around, waiting for Sarah to struggle out of the cab unassisted. Not too bad so far. Some cameras had followed the other couple through the doors.
“If we race we can make it through the doors without notice,” she said to Sarah under her breath. Then a split second later the cameras spotted her. She hadn’t taken one step before her path was blocked by three photographers and two swarming reporters. To her right she saw a TV cameraman wheeling around in her direction.
“Ms. Grace, who do you think the mayor will back?”
“Ms. Grace, who designed your gown?”
“Are you going to run for lieutenant governor with PJD?”
Before she spoke, the cameras started flashing, the red light on the TV camera went on and three microphones were shoved in front of her face. She noticed Sarah’s face cloud and knew she would say something possibly inappropriate in the next second if Madeline let her. And Madeline wasn’t about to let her. Their new press secretary was arriving fresh from DC in the morning and not a minute too soon. Hopefully not too late.
“The mayor will back someone other than me or Peter John Douglas. This is not a designer gown; I got it off the rack. And no. I am most emphatically not going to run for lieutenant governor. The people deserve a viable third choice and I’m going to give it to them.” She smiled and they walked forward with the cameras following and flashing, an older doorman with a nametag identifying him as a manager leading the way. She smiled as they got to the door.
“Thank you very much, Garcia, for the escort.” She went through the doors with Sarah and looked back to see the next group assailed.
“This is ridiculous. Last time I looked this was Boston, not LA.” Mad shook her head.
“Let’s get on with it.” Sarah trudged toward the party room.
“You already said that,” Mad said. Then she followed Sarah inside.
“So, Peter, why haven’t you brought along that woman—what was her name? Or is that affair ended too? Don’t tell me you’re in between women? What luck.”
Peter looked over the local news reporter dressed in a long slinky silver number. Trish wasn’t about to be denied his attention and didn’t bother to wait for his answers, as usual. She had her story all thought up without his input. He looked around the room. Not a lot of people had arrived yet. He was early and he owed that to his expert driver. There was a lot to be sa
id for having a chauffeur, and this was one crowd that wasn’t about to hold that against him.
“Nice to see you again, Trish. Is this on or off the record? Are you speaking as a woman, as a professional journalist, or is it the role of town gossip you’ve taken on tonight?” He smiled at her in the most inscrutable way he knew how, which was impeccable.
“Since when did you start hitting below the belt?” She smiled back, undaunted. Peter knew she liked to play rough—both in and out of bed.
“Just following your lead. I wouldn’t want you to think I was easy prey.” He reduced his smile to half-hearted while she laughed. He looked around the crowding room for Madeline. Trish took her leave to play journalist, after warning him she’d be back. Peter was flanked by two of his campaign assistants, who nodded their approval of his handling of Trish. They had nicknamed her the B-journalist. Bill and Bob were on leave from the Middlesex County DA’s office. He recruited them to join his campaign staff when he started running for governor in earnest. They jumped.
“Geez, have you dated every woman between twenty-five and fifty in the greater Boston area, boss, or what?” Bob’s comment was delivered with a shake of his head and more admiration than sarcasm.
“No, but it is one of my many ambitions,” Peter quipped, careful that no one else would hear. Bob laughed at that and slapped his boss’s back. Rick approached them.
“The mayor is peeved that you brought your entourage. He said this is a party, not a campaign event—and he said it with a straight face.” Rick turned to Bob and Bill. “You two will have to leave early. But hang out in the lobby with your two-ways in case I need you.”
“Yeah, you might need us to handle the chick overflow,” Bill commented over his shoulder as he moved on.
The Scotland Yard Exchange Series Page 6
