But it’s also why you have got to support the Norris Amendment.” Jason slung his heavy briefcase on top of his desk, stood behind his desk, and gave his aides his full attention for the first time. Carl Browning was a good communications director, Jason thought, but a little too robotic to impress him. Dexter McGhee, the mayor’s legislative aide, was more impressive, simply because he used to be a backup quarterback for the Jaguars, but he, too, showed little range beyond his own concerns. Stephen Armitage was Jason’s closest advisor, but even he wasn’t a friend. Not because Jason didn’t try to learn to enjoy Stephen’s company, but because he was just a little too ruthless, a little too what’s in it for me for Jason.
And then there was DeeDee.
DeeDee Ramstead, his public affairs director. She was great at her job, and a beautiful woman, but she, too, had never touched the kind of emotion in Jason that made him want her to be anything more to him than his employee. She tried at every turn to make their relationship more, she tried every chance she could, but Jason purposely kept her at arm’s length.
“Good morning, Mr. Browning,” he said to his communications director, to see if that would slow him down.
“Good morning, Mayor Rascone. I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but I’m just trying to keep you informed of what we need to do because nothing is guaranteed anymore.”
“Nothing,” Stephen echoed.
“Does it look as if I’ll have a Republican opponent this time?”
“No, thank God,” Stephen said. “Our party is united and on board for your reelection.”
“What about the Democrats? Are they going to run Amherst?” Stephen nodded. “We don’t know. All we know is that he’ll probably be black since the blacks have been insisting it’s their time now. Which is great for us. Far be it from us to complain if the Dems want to put up this inexperienced black as if---”
“What does his race have to do with it?” Dexter McGhee, the only black in the room, asked.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “What I mean is that the Democrats have decided to play to their base and keep it all united, like the Republicans, that’s what I meant.”
“Good morning, Mr. McGhee,” Jason said.
“Good morning,” Dexter McGhee replied, his smile warming Jason. “Sorry about that. Just don’t want any of Stephen’s nonsense.”
“What nonsense?” Stephen asked.
“DeeDee, good morning to you, too,” Jason said.
DeeDee smiled. “Good morning, Jace.”
“Carl’s right you know,” Stephen said, ready to pounce as usual. “You’ve got to support the Norris Amendment, there’s no two ways about this.”
“And why is it that I have to support it?” Jason asked, opening his briefcase. “Because a poll says so?”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Carl asked. “It’s popular, sir. It’s what the people want.
The Norris Amendment has problems, granted, but at least it’ll give some relief to the small business community who can’t afford to pay those sky high insurance premiums for their workers.”
Dexter, however, shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s too pro-business at the expense of the workers.”
“What kind of Marxist nonsense is that?” Stephen chimed in.
“It’s not Marxist,” Dexter held his ground, “it’s a fact. The business owners will get relief, but what kind of relief will the workers get?”
“They’ll get the shaft,” Jason said before he realized he was saying it, and his entire staff looked at him. Ever since he left Liz in her bed sleeping like an angel, he’d been thinking about odd things: like the inner city, and the poor, and youth center directors with silky hair and flawless brown skin and huge golden eyes that sparkled.
“This is not the time to make any waves, sir,” Carl said. “Not at the start of your campaign.”
“I’m just saying that Dex makes a fair point,” Jason pointed out. “I’ve studied that amendment, too, and I have some serious concerns here.”
Carl frowned. “Since when?” he asked, dumbstruck. He’d been discussing the Norris Amendment with his boss for over a month now, and not once did he voice any real concerns.
“I mean, with respect, sir, since when have you suddenly become so interested in the plight of waitresses and janitors and all these other poor people who’ll never vote for you anyway, at the expense of small business owners, who are, by the way, your strongest supporters?”
“Since yesterday,” Stephen said and everybody looked at him. “Since his little detour into the ‘hood.”
Dexter, Carl, and DeeDee looked at Stephen, confused, until Carl understood. “You can’t be serious,” he said. And then he looked at the mayor. “Look, sir, now I know you always wanted to be a man of the people and all of that, but this is not the time. Stephen did a good job of damage control yesterday, let’s not push our good fortune. We were really lucky that he kept it out of the news.”
DeeDee frowned. “Kept what out of the news?” she asked.
“The fact that the bachelor mayor of our great city,” Carl explained, “had picked up some who knows what kind of ‘hood-rat female, and took her home.” DeeDee looked at Jason. “What?” she asked unbelievingly.
“But Stephen took care of it and that’s all well and good, but we can’t afford any more days like that.”
“Jason,” DeeDee tried again, “what in the world is Carl talking about? What ‘hood rat female?”
“She lived in the hood, but she was hardly a hood rat,” Stephen corrected, more than happy to stoke DeeDee’s sudden concern. “She is, in fact, Hamilton Morgan’s very beautiful daughter.”
Stephen looked at DeeDee for her reaction and he smiled at the way she silently fumed.
Everybody at city hall knew how much she was smitten with the mayor and was trying every trick she could try to gain his approval. The fact that Stephen couldn’t stand her didn’t help, either, and the fact that Jason always took her side over his only added fuel to his fire. “She’s tall,” Stephen continued, relishing DeeDee’s distress, “slender, flawless dark brown skin, oh, you should have seen that smooth skin. And just as ghetto as all get-out.”
“A ‘hood rat just like I said,” Carl said.
DeeDee looked at Jason. “But why would you have any dealings with some ghetto black?” she asked. When she remembered that Dexter was in the room, she rephrased. “Why would you have dealings with such a person?” she asked Jason instead.
“I didn’t have dealings with her,” he said with a hint of irritation.
“But you took her home?” DeeDee asked accusatorily.
Jason looked at her. “Yes, I took her home. To her home,” he added. “And?”
“And that almost blew up in our faces,” Carl said, fast tiring of the rivalry for Jason’s attention that existed between DeeDee and Stephen, a rivalry that was played out, at varying degrees, every single day. “We want our campaign to be flawless this time. We want a cakewalk back into office, with no surprises, especially since the Democrats will probably be united.”
“Whomever they put up against Jace will lose by a landslide,” Dexter said.
“I agree,” Carl said. “He should lose and we should win by that same landslide, which is what we have got to win by if we have any hopes of getting the attention of those big wigs in Tallahassee who’ll finally see our boss for what he is: the future governor of this fine state.
Now is that clear enough, Jace? No more picking up ‘hood rats, and especially not Hamp Morgan’s daughter, no more talking down the Norris Amendment, no more taking this upcoming election for granted.”
Jason sat down and leaned back in his chair. There was an interminable wait as his staff stared at him. Finally he spoke. “She’s not a ‘hood rat,” he said, and DeeDee fumed.
FIVE
The door to Liz’s office flew open and Shameika entered with a stunned look on her face.
&nb
sp; Liz, who was at the file cabinet rummaging through a stack of thick files, standing bare feet, didn’t look back at her assistant.
“Boss,” Shameika said as soon as she entered, but Liz, without looking back, interrupted her.
“I can’t find the Hemming file,” Liz said, her reading glasses perched on her nose. “Milo wants a spreadsheet on all of our counseling clients, but Hemming’s is missing. I’ve searched all of our outlay---”
“Boss,” Shameika said again, and she said it so heartfelt that Liz was forced to turn away from the file cabinet and look at her.
What she saw caused her to immediately show concern. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked her secretary.
“You have a visitor.”
Liz frowned. “So I have a visitor. So what?”
“Your visitor,” Shameika said and then had to pause before continuing, “is the mayor.” A pause came over Liz too, but for very different reasons. “The mayor?” she finally said.
“The mayor!” Shameika shouted out. “Why in this wide world would Jason Rascone want to see you?”
Why indeed, Liz thought to say. “I won’t find out if you don’t send him in,” she said instead, as calmly as she could.
“But the mayor, Boss? And he said your name like he knows you like that. ‘I’m here to see Elizabeth,’ he said. Elizabeth. Not Miss Morgan. Not the lady who runs this joint. But Elizabeth.”
Liz looked at Shameika. “And?”
“I can’t stand him, don’t get me wrong, he’s Mr. Conservative, after all. And a Republican! But the man is good looking, girl. That man is fine!”
“Meika,” Liz said.”
Shameika began leaving. “I know, I know. Go get him. All right already.” After Shameika left, Liz just stood there feeling a little shaken. She didn’t know if she could face him again. Not after yesterday. Not after the way she allowed him to be so intimate with her. What was wrong with her anyway, letting him touch all on her and feel her up the same way she let him ten years ago? It didn’t go as far as it went a decade ago, but that was only because she was so sore. But twice they were together and twice she allowed him to see every inch of her body. And she still didn’t understand why. What was it about him that made her so . . . so . . . comfortable?
But instead of letting it be, instead of going his way and forgetting that he’d ever laid eyes on her again, he decided to come to her office. Was it because some reporter had found out that he’d been in a house in the hood, as his aide called it, and he wanted to make sure she wasn’t the one who spilled the beans? He was wasting his time if he would even think that.
Yet, a part of Liz had fond memories of yesterday. She couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful it felt to lean against him, to relax in the warmth of his arms. It had been so long for her, so agonizingly long, that she had almost forgotten what that unbridled human contact felt like.
But even that feeling wasn’t enough for her to let her guard down, she thought as she walked toward her desk. Jason had been kind to her, and she appreciated it. But every man she’d ever fell for had been kind. They all were nice and kind in the beginning. Scotty, her ex, was super-nice and super-kind. But they always broke her heart in the end. She was grateful to Jason Rascone, he provided a shoulder to cry on yesterday when she needed one badly, but that was as far as it was going to go. Her days of broken hearts, of blind love and trails of tears, were over.
She had just taken a seat behind her desk and was slipping on her shoes when Shameika escorted Jason into her office. She looked up over her half-moon reading glasses, and was about to stand, but his look caught her short. He walked in, not as that concerned, overly-helpful man of yesterday, but as the person she suddenly realized he was: the very stern, very conservatively dressed, very powerful mayor of an American city. A man undoubtedly accustomed to every human being in his path jumping at his every command. She decided to remain seated.
“I present to you, Mayor Rascone, ” Shameika said, attempting to sound formal and professional. Liz almost laughed.
“Thank-you, Shameika, that’ll be all,” Liz said instead.
Shameika, obviously disappointed that her boss weren’t willing to let her hang around for the show, nonetheless took her leave.
After the door closed, Jason seemed to relax somewhat. He placed his hands into the pant pockets of his expensive suit. He remembered yesterday, and how it felt to touch her again, to hold her. When he left her, sleeping like an angel, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. That was why he had to come. He had tons of work to do, tons of problems on his desk, but he had to see her again.
“Hello, Elizabeth,” he said, his blue eyes staring deep into her brown ones.
“Mayor Rascone, hi,” Liz replied.
“Oh, come now. It’s Jason. Jace. Whatever. But not Mayor Rascone,” he said this as if he were marking her, causing her to smile. “You look very studious this bright day.” Liz suddenly became self-conscious when he said that, but she didn’t remove her glasses.
“I had some files to review, but how may I help you?”
“You can start by offering me a seat.”
Liz blushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, of course. Have a seat. Please.” Liz had one shoe on and one shoe off, but she wasn’t about to bend down to complete the task, not with this man staring at her so profusely.
When he sat down, he crossed his legs and began to peruse the office itself. “This is a small space,” he said, looking around at the paneled walls and the tiny window. He wondered how she could breathe, let alone work, in such a cramped room. Liz, however, took offense, as if he could somehow sense, by the size of her office alone, that she was a failure.
“It may not be up to city hall standards,” she said, “or your standards. But it suits me.”
“I didn’t mean,” Jason started, stunned that she would be offended by his innocent comment, but she cut him off.
“I’m sure you didn’t take time out of your busy schedule to come here to talk about the size of my office.”
Jason eyed her with a mixture of sympathy and suspicion. When he decided to drop by, mainly because he couldn’t stay away, he never dreamed she’d still be carrying that chip on her shoulder. He had assumed she was just having a very bad day. He apparently had assumed wrong.
“I came by to see how you were doing,” he said truthfully.
This truth, however, surprised Liz. “What do you mean?” she asked him. The idea that some man would be concerned enough about her to inquire as to her well being was so far in her past, so foreign to her now, that she couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. Or how to respond to it.
“I meant what I said,” Jason said. Then he stared at her with a look of concern in his eyes.
“How are you, Liz?”
“I’m . . . fine. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why wouldn’t you be? Well, let’s see: you were covered in mud when last we met, thanks to that driver of mine. You looked as if you’d lost your best friend, your dog, and everything else of meaning in your life. You were almost mugged and dragged nearly to your death. And all of this after only one month in town. I’m no expert, Elizabeth, but I would say yup, you have plenty reasons to not necessarily be on top of your game.” Liz realized she was being unfairly insensitive and attempted to smile. Her string of bad luck, a string she had been growing too familiar with, was turning her into the kind of bitter, defensive female she hated. “I guess you have a point,” she said airily. “But no, I’m good.
Everything’s okay. And thanks again for all your help. Really.”
“How’s that side of yours? Better?”
“Yes, much better. In fact all. Sorry about falling asleep on you.”
“No need whatsoever to apologize. I’m just glad I could help. I’m not your enemy, Liz.
You’ll realize that one of these days.”
Liz didn’t know how to respond to that. She never saw him as an enemy. Nor as a frien
d, either, come to that. Yet she’d been so intimate with him the two times they had been together that he had to be more to her than a mere acquaintance.
“Well,” he said when time passed without her responding at all, and he stood up. “I have a meeting across town, so I’d better get going. I just thought I’d drop in and say hello.” Liz started to stand to, but, realizing that she had one shoe on and one shoe off, opted to stay put.
Jason stood there, his hands in his pockets, jingling his change and staring at her. Liz wondered why he didn’t just leave, but then wondered if he was waiting for her to at least stand in a show of common courtesy. She stood.
“Thanks for coming by,” she said, meaning it. She knew he probably had to sneak away from his handlers and aides to come in this neighborhood again, and she appreciated the gesture.
“No reason to thank me,” Jason said. “I needed to make sure you were okay.” He needed to make sure, Liz thought. Why would he need to make sure?
“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” she said and then leaned over her desk and extended her hand. Jason quickly moved up to the desk and shook her hand, his entire body suddenly warmed by her touch. Their eyes met, his blue ones staring into her brown ones, and it was then and there that he knew why he had come. He wasn’t sure about it when he’d first saw her again yesterday, but looking up close into those sad, heartfelt eyes of hers, renewed his faith. There was something about that look in her eyes, that almost doleful look, that drew him to her.
Liz felt something too. Something strong and something sensual when he shook her hand.
It was the same odd feeling she’d felt yesterday in her tub. She dismissed it at the time as an accumulation of bare emotions after a day filled with too many emotions, but what was her excuse today? She was still disappointed and still having an unbelievably rough go of it (nothing about her life yesterday had changed for the better today), but those odd feelings for this man, still overtook her.
They continued to stare at the other as they both began to realize that they were no longer shaking hands but, given the lack of movement, were actually holding hands. As soon as Liz realized this blunder she eased her hand out of his grip.
Romancing the Bulldog Page 6
