Twitter Girl

by Nic Tatano

  “Interesting visual,” says Sam.

  “So, what are you boys talking about?”

  “You,” they answer in unison.

  “Oh, really? What about me?”

  Tyler leans forward and looks at Sam. “Looks like we’ll have to go to the men’s room to continue our discussion.”

  “Fine, talk about me behind my back.”

  “Trust me, it’s all good,” says Sam. “So, everyone wants to meet my sister.”

  I shake my head. “No, everyone wants to meet Senator Becker’s girlfriend. Big difference.”

  Tyler grabs the last nacho from his plate, then turns to me. “Aren’t you having any of the goodies? Or did I miss your afternoon feeding?”

  “Very funny. No, I haven’t had a chance, so load me up a plate, big boy. You know what I like.”

  Tyler gets up and heads for the spread of food that fills a long table at the end of the room.

  “You got him well trained,” says Sam.

  “No, he’s just polite that way. Old fashioned guy. Tyler’s a lot like you.”

  “Well, we do both have something in common.”

  “I didn’t mean your challenges. I meant your personality. He’s sweet. Protective. A gentleman. Total package.”

  ***

  Sam pulls the car out of the parking lot and we head home, once again fat and happy after the Giants win.

  I always ride in the back seat of his van so I can stretch out my legs. I cannot wait a minute longer. “Well?”

  “Great game,” says Sam, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Oh, shit. This isn’t gonna be good.

  “C’mon, spill,” says Ripley, sitting next to him. “We want the full review.”

  Sam bites his lower lip and locks eyes with me in the rear view mirror.

  “Uh-oh. I know that look. You didn’t like him.”

  “I didn’t say that,” says Sam. “I didn’t dislike him.”

  “But?” we say in stereo.

  Sam shakes his head. “He’s, I don’t know, different. I guess cause he’s a politician. I mean, he’s friendly and all that but I get the feeling that the whole thing is an act. That’s he’s been packaged like a product. There’s something about the guy… I can’t really put my finger on it. But something’s not right.”

  “Is that something bad enough that I shouldn’t date him?”

  “I don’t know. But be careful, dear sister. And if I were you, I’d keep investigating that mystery you’ve kinda forgotten about the last two weeks. Get the stars out of your eyes and get back to being a reporter. If you don’t find anything, fine. But you need to know if anything is there. Because I think something is.”

  “I’ve got stars in my eyes?”

  Sam looks to his right. “Ripley?”

  She turns around to face me. “Honey, you’ve got a whole constellation. Look, Sam and I both have the same weird feeling about the guy. Please do yourself a favor and check it out.”

  “But he’s been a perfect gentleman so far.”

  “Just be careful, my friend. Listen to your brother. He’s always right.”

  Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.

  ***

  I can’t sleep.

  Sam’s assessment of Will Becker has my mind in overdrive, weaving a slalom around possible red flags that have no meaning.

  So far.

  Be he’s right. And if he sees the same thing Ripley does, I have to put the infatuation aside. I can’t go into this with blinders on. I know too many girls who did that and ended up in divorce court.

  And the last thing I want to be known as is the President’s ex-wife.

  It’s one in the morning as I head downstairs, passing Sam’s bedroom on the way. I hear him snoring as usual as I quietly walk into my office, turn on a light, close the door and open my laptop.

  I grab a yellow legal pad, adjust my reporting hat and start writing down the information and questions I already have. Which isn’t much.

  2005.

  Missing time?

  Missing money?

  A twelve digit number.

  A dead wife who took something to the grave.

  “You have resources I do not.”

  Not much to go on, but in my reporting career I’ve started with less. However, at this hour, the only thing I can start to work on is missing time.

  I do a search for Will Becker and click on “news” then use the drop down menu to put items in chronological order.

  The search turns up thousands of articles on Becker, dating back to when he held a local office in New York. I set the search to filter out all the stories in the year 2005 when he served as a Congressman.

  More than three hundred items.

  I don’t want to read them all, just find the “missing time” David Gold talked about. I start scrolling through the results. Plenty of items in January and February. A smaller amount in March. Five in the first week of April.

  Then nothing for the rest of the month. Nothing in May or June.

  The stories pick up slowly in mid-July, then go back to their normal rate in August when he announced his candidacy for the Senate seat which would be open in 2006.

  I note the dates the stories disappeared and resumed on the pad, then log onto the Congressional Record website, navigate my way through a typical confusing government website, then arrive at my destination.

  Congressional voting records for 2005.

  A quick search for Becker shows he didn’t miss a single vote during the “missing time” period. He had a perfect attendance record.

  So he wasn’t physically missing, but for whatever reason he wasn’t making any news. No print articles, no video clips from television interviews. Was he simply preparing for the Senate run and keeping everything close to the vest before an announcement? That doesn’t make sense. If you’re going to run for a higher office, especially one that was as wide open as this one was, you want a higher profile and as much face time as possible on the networks. And he’d gotten plenty of that before he went off the media grid.

  Or was he involved in something that had him flying under the radar for a few months?

  If David Gold was onto something, this was only a small piece of the puzzle. But I could no longer dismiss the man. He said there was missing time and there was to some extent. The bigger piece of the puzzle would have to come later, as I would take advice from my favorite movie, All the President’s Men.

  Follow the money.

  Which means I’ll need to let one of my closest friends in on my search.

  ***

  @TwitterGirl

  Happy Valentines Day! Give Senator Becker some love with your votes today…

  They say timing is everything. But in this case, it’s anything but.

  The most romantic day of the year falls on Tuesday, which means that I will not be out on a date with Will Becker but spending the evening with Frank as the returns come in from a couple of primaries. The Senator is doing puddle jumps all day in the private jet and won’t be back till later this evening.

  Of course that hasn’t stopped the tabloids from speculating about what should happen between us since Cupid’s arrow is trained on us like a heat seeking missile.

  Some of the graphics have gone over the top. Since the media now has a batch of photos from our few dinners in public, they’ve gone wild. There are dozens of shots with me holding a dozen roses and a box of candy, stuff like that. My favorite digital creation has Becker with a pair of wings shooting an arrow at me, while I’m looking up and clutching my chest as little cartoon hearts float around my head.

  Which, if you must know, isn’t too far from the truth.

  Meanwhile, a tabloid that absolutely hates the President features a cartoon of him, fat as a tick, dressed as Cupid wearing Depends, frowning as an arrow sticks out of his ass. The caption reads, “Americans are falling out of love with President Turner.”

  And though Becker is going a mile a minute today, he to
ld me to be at the ballroom tonight when he returns to talk to his supporters. I know he’s got something planned and Frank won’t tell me a damn thing, so I’m acting like a lovesick schoolgirl as we watch the returns. I’m looking at the clock every five minutes because I know the Senator will be back at eight.

  Of course I haven’t forgotten my own Valentine’s obligation. Even though the girl is supposed to get the flowers and candy, I’ve always gotten something for any guy I happened to be dating. So I picked up some cool cuff links made out of New York subway tokens, since Becker often rides the rails to get around Manhattan instead of tying up traffic with an entourage like so many politicians do.

  I’m sure everything that happens will be scrutinized and some people might think my gift is strange, but I don’t care.

  It’s Valentines Day, and love is in the air.

  A huge cheer goes up as Will Becker emerges from behind a curtain and makes his way to the front of the ballroom wearing a big smile. With two major wins tonight in his back pocket, it really is beginning to look like he’s a slam dunk for the nomination. But as Frank says, there’s a long way to go and there could be land mines which could explode.

  Becker moves to a podium that has been set up on stage as the cheers continue. I’m off to the side with Frank and the rest of the staff. The Senator makes a gesture with his hands for the crowd to sit down as he says, “Thank you” several times. They finally take their seats and I steal a look at the monitors that have been set up backstage which tells me we’re live on every network.

  Becker spends a few minutes thanking the voters and his staff, makes a few political remarks, and then I see a sly smile grow. “Well, this has been a busy day but I haven’t forgotten it’s a special day that has nothing to do with politics.” He puts up one finger. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

  Murmurs from the crowd float through the room as Becker goes backstage for a moment, then emerges with a huge bouquet of roses. The crowd cheers as he heads back to the podium and motions for me to join him. I head toward him wearing a big smile, taking the roses from him as we meet at the podium. “Thank you,” I say, though I’m not sure he can hear me over the cheers from the crowd. I reach into my pocket, pull out a small jewelry box and hand it to him. He looks puzzled for a moment, obviously not expecting anything, then turns to the crowd. “Ooooh, I got something too.” He opens the box and smiles, then holds it up so the camera can pick it up and send it to the giant screen behind him. “I don’t know if you can see these, but they’re seriously cool. Cuff links made from antique New York City subway tokens.”

  The crowd applauds and he asks them to quiet down. “Hang on, I’m not done. Since I met Cassidy Shea I’ve noticed she has a real sweet tooth. So, this being Valentine’s Day… she’ll need something to go along with those flowers.” He turns to the side of the stage. “Guys…”

  I look over as two men wheel out what has to be a six foot box of chocolates in the shape of a red heart. “The people at Cadbury tell me this is the biggest box of Valentine chocolate they’ve ever made.” He turns to me with a soulful look. “A big heart for a girl with a big heart.”

  The crowd gives us a collective “Awwwww” as Becker opens his arms, waiting for a hug. But I walk right past him, pull the ribbon wrapped around the box, lift the lid and start tearing into the candy. The crowd laughs hysterically. I give them a thumbs up while I’m eating.

  “She likes chocolate more than me,” says Becker.

  The crowd laughs as I move back toward him.

  They start clinking their glasses with spoons like people do at weddings when they want the bride and groom to kiss. We lock eyes for a moment and know what we have to do. He leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I shake one finger at him like a parent saying no and point to my lips. The crowd cheers.

  He takes my shoulders and gives me a kiss.

  Hundreds of flashes go off, and as I look into his eyes we become the only two people in the room.

  ***

  While most women who’d received a six foot box of chocolates, several dozen roses and an incredible kiss from an unbelievably attractive man on national television would be in the sack with said man, this is, as you’ve no doubt learned by now, not a typical relationship.

  Becker is making the rounds of the cable shows and I’m back in my hotel room, alone, though on a sugar high I’ve never experienced.

  Or maybe it’s a different kind of high.

  And I wanna share it with the people I care about. But my brother is surely asleep and Ripley’s on a red-eye flight back from the west coast.

  Tyler.

  I send him a quick text, asking if he’s in the mood to chat.

  My iPad chimes a few seconds later and I lean back in bed, connect and see Tyler’s face.

  “What, you ate all the chocolates already?”

  “Smart ass. I’ve saved you plenty. But you’d better claim them tomorrow because they’ll be gone by the weekend.”

  “Well, I wanted you to have a good supply when I ordered the thing.”

  “Excuse me?

  “Oops. Sorry, it was supposed to be a secret.”

  I furrow my brow. “The whole thing was your idea?”

  “Guilty as charged. I come up with a good one every once in awhile. Viper was real busy and asked me to arrange something special for you. And, you know, there is this love affair you have with food.”

  “Wait a minute… Frank asked you to buy me a Valentine present?”

  “Well, Top Dog delegated it to him and Frank is about as romantic as Dick Cheney, so he gave it to me. I didn’t mind and it makes me happy that I came up with something you enjoyed so much.”

  “Oh. Well, you know the way to my heart.”

  “Glad you appreciated it, because it took a ton of phone calls to make it happen.”

  “Did you also come up with the big heart for a girl with a big heart line?”

  “I plead no contest. Anyway, you looked really happy tonight, T.G.”

  “It was a unique experience.”

  “You also look like you’re enjoying the attention.”

  “Well, I gotta admit, the whole thing is exciting. And having everyone in the country root for you is something no girl has ever experienced.”

  “They’re not all rooting for you. You’ve only got an eighty-seven percent approval rating, so thirteen percent want you guys to crash and burn like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. Don’t get cocky and let your poll numbers go to your head.”

  “Ha, very funny.”

  “But seriously, I can imagine having someone like Will Becker interested in you is every girl’s dream.”

  We talk for another twenty minutes, mostly about a science fiction series we’re both following and the upcoming baseball season, then I hit the wall and realize I’m about to crash. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Tyler.”

  “Sure thing, T.G. Look forward to it.”

  “And thanks again for your great idea about the chocolates and whatever you did to make it happen.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He looks away for a moment. “I’m, uh, happy for ya.” He looks back and offers a slight smile. His eyes are a little droopy and I can tell he’s tired. We end the call and I tuck myself in.

  So the giant box of chocolates was Tyler’s doing. And so was the line that went with it. But hey, Will Becker’s a real busy guy and he doesn’t have time for things like coming up with an idea for a Valentine gift while running for President.

  Yeah, let’s go with that.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  @TwitterGirl

  #ChicagoDebate

  Just said hello to some of President Turner’s more loyal supporters. And then I left the cemetery.

  While that dead voter thing has reared its ugly head again in the Windy City (the mother ship of political tricks) I’ve got something on my calendar that has absolutely nothing to do with the election and everything to do with me.

&nb
sp; I’m having lunch with my old mentor Dale Carlin in one of Chicago’s most famous pizza joints. Partly because I love their deep dish pies, partly because I’ve missed the guy.

  And partly because I need his help solving the puzzle hanging over my head.

  Dale smiles as he walks toward our table at the back of the loud, crowded restaurant and I give him a strong hug. “Damn, I miss working with you,” I say.

  “The network’s not the same without you,” he says as he slides onto a chair opposite me. “And I’ve heard rumblings from management that they think they made a mistake letting you go.”

  “Nice to hear.”

  “I know you miss the people, but do you miss the job?”

  “You know, I thought I would. But the campaign has been soooo exciting.”

  “The campaign has been exciting or your love life has been exciting?”

  “Fine. A little of both. Okay, a lot of one and a little of the other.”

  He reaches over and pats my hand. “You’re actually glowing, Cassidy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy and relaxed. It’s a good look for you.”

  “I love what I’m doing and, well…”

  “Not ready to say the L-word yet?”

  “You know me too well. Though I can use the term smitten. Honestly, I don’t ever think I’ve been so attracted to a guy. And the feeling seems to be mutual.”

  “Well, what guy wouldn’t be interested in you? I hope it all works out. You deserve someone good and you two look good together.”

  “Thank you. I get that a lot.”

  A half hour’s worth of catching up later, our lunch arrives. I eagerly dig out a slice and take a bite of the hot, steaming pizza, savoring the combination of cheese, thick sauce, pepperoni and sausage. “Oh my God, that’s better than sex.”

  Dale laughs as he dishes out a slice. “Well, I can see nothing’s changed as far as your eating habits go.”

  “I’ll always be obsessed with food.” I look around, see that for once no one is paying attention to me, then turn back to him. “Dale, I need a huge favor.”

  “Sure, anything for you. What is it?”

  “It’s something that will raise a red flag if I go looking for it, but since you’re covering the President no one will notice.”