Romancing the Bulldog

by Mallory Monroe

  “Why haven’t you returned my calls, Liz?” Malcolm barked out on the other end.

  Liz put her briefcase and shoulder bag on her desk. “I’m at work, Mal. What is it?”

  “As if you don’t know. Where’s lover boy? Is he there with you now?”

  “What do you want, Mal?”

  “Father is pissed.”

  Liz would have smiled if it wasn’t so pathetic. “And what else is new?”

  “You’re skating down a black hole, girl. How can you let that man use you like this?” Liz frowned. “Use me?”

  “Yeah, use you. To get more black votes. ‘Look at me,’ is what he’s saying. ‘I got me a bonafide black girlfriend. Y’all ignorant negras vote for me now, you hear?’ Then he’s going to dump you like a bad habit.”

  Liz put her face in her hand. Leave it to her family to find it unthinkable that a man could actually love her. “Is that all you wanted, Malcolm?”

  “You need to check yourself.”

  “No, you need to check your self. What I do in my private life is my business. If I wanted Jason and anybody else to use me, that’s my business, too. And you can run and tell that to Father while you’re at it, because I don’t care anymore.” Liz said this and hung up the phone. Then she exhaled.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Shameika asked. Liz didn’t even realize she had entered her office.

  “Do you ever knock?” she asked her.

  “Not really, no.”

  Liz smiled. Shameika was the most honest person she knew. “Whatever, girl. What can I do you for?”

  “I didn’t know you were moving.”

  Liz looked at her. “Moving?”

  “Yeah. They got the big truck out there and everything.”

  Liz frowned. “Out where?”

  “Outside your apartment. Out there.”

  Liz knew this had to be some mistake. She hurried from her desk and looked out of the window. A mid-sized moving truck was parked in front of her apartment, with men walking out of her apartment with her furniture.

  “What in the world,” she said but didn’t wait for an answer. She hurried past Shameika, ran out of the Center, and was hurrying up the stairs that led to her apartment. “Who’s in charge?” she asked one of the movers, and he motioned toward her living room. Liz ran in that direction.

  The boss was a short, stout man who was, with another man, wrapping her sofa in plastic.

  “Excuse me, but who are you and what are you doing?”

  “Tighten it, Poke,” the man said to his assistant. Then he stood erect and looked at Liz.

  “Are you Miss Morgan?”

  “I am.”

  “I have orders to pack you up and move you out, and that’s what I’m doing. If you have any questions you’re to contact,” the man had to pull out a flip pad and flip it open.

  “Bulldog,” he said.

  Liz could hardly believe it. She was going to contact Bulldog, all right. “And this Bulldog gave you a key to my home?” she asked as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Jason’s number.

  “He gave somebody the key. They gave it to me.”

  Liz shook her head. The voice mail to Jason’s cell phone clicked on. She therefore dialed his office number. His secretary picked up. He’s in a meeting, she said.

  “Well I need him out of that meeting, and I mean now.”

  “May I ask who’s calling?”

  Liz exhaled. “Liz Morgan,” she said.

  “Oh, Miss Morgan,” the secretary said. “One moment, please.” Liz wanted to smile. Maybe being Jason’s announced girlfriend had its’ privileges. But instead of Jason coming on the line, Stephen Armitage did. “Yes, may I help you?” he said as obnoxiously as the first time she had spoken to him.

  “I need to speak with Jason.”

  “He’s in a meeting.”

  “Yes, I know that. But I need to speak with him.”

  “I’ll let him know that you phoned.”

  “You don’t understand. I need to speak with him now.”

  “No, you don’t understand!” Stephen said with bite. “He’s in a very important meeting and you’ll just have to wait until it’s over.” Then he added. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, at least not this world.”

  Liz flipped shut her cell. The nerve of him. Then she looked at the movers. “You have the key?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Will you please step out of my apartment, and stay out, until I’ve had a chance to clear this up?”

  “The truck is already half loaded.”

  “I know that. And I want it unloaded. But not until after I’ve had a chance to clear this up. Take a break, you and your men. Bulldog will pay for it.” The man didn’t like it, not one bit, but he understood he had no choice. He left. And Liz nearly screamed.

  ***

  DeeDee Ramstead had never seen Liz Morgan, and she was thrown by the view. Here she was expecting some ghetto fabulous trollop with weave and freakishly long fingernails who looked every bit the welfare queen Stephen said she was, but instead she gets some black beauty queen with bouncy short hair, silky smooth dark skin, big, bright eyes, and the kind of body a man like Jason probably craved. Seeing the competition, then, made DeeDee immediately defensive.

  “He’s in a meeting,” she said to Liz as Liz stood beside the reception desk outside the mayor’s office at City Hall. DeeDee had been summoned when Liz told the receptionist her name.

  “Could you please tell him it’s very important that I speak with him?”

  “I said he was in a meeting,” DeeDee reminded her, “and he can’t be disturbed.” Liz could see that the woman was unrepentant and no manner of urgency was going to get her to so much as ask Jason to step out of his meeting for even a quick minute. But Liz also knew she had to see him.

  “I’ll wait,” she said and took a seat. DeeDee didn’t like that either, but she had no choice in the matter. She turned and walked away, her long, blonde hair bouncing against her back.

  Liz’s wait turned out to be nearly an hour long. And even then it was by chance that she saw Jason. He appeared in the hall outside of the reception area, walking and talking with a big, husky man with a thick, almost comically long mustache.

  “Jason!” Liz yelled as he was about to walk past. He backed back on hearing his name and she jumped up and hurried toward him. The receptionist looked at her and shook her head.

  “Liz?” he said cheerfully. “What are you doing here?” He kissed her on the mouth before she could say anything at all.

  “Can we talk?” she asked him in a lowered tone.

  “Of course, sweetheart,” Jason said. Then he turned her toward his companion. “Liz, say hello to one of my strongest supporters, Grady Hayward. Grady, this is Elizabeth Morgan, my lady.”

  Liz was about to enthusiastically shake the man’s hand, until she heard his name. “Grady Hayward?” she asked, shaking his hand as reluctantly as he was shaking hers.

  “That’s right,” Jason said. “He’s among my most reliable supporters.”

  “Aren’t you the head of CHS?” The only reason Liz knew of the group at all was because of their staunch opposition to the Meyers Center receiving a dime of the city’s block grant funding. The Meyers Center, according to CHS, is a haven for gang members to hang out and plot their crimes, which, Liz said when she heard about it, was ridiculous.

  “I’m the president of the Conservative Heritage Society, yes, that’s correct,” Grady said as if he was admonishing her.

  “You know Grady, Liz?” Jason asked her.

  “I know of him. I know his organization has done everything in its power to pull every public funding source from under us.”

  Grady frowned. “From under you? Who are you, other than the daughter of a gangster, excuse me, nightclub owner?”

  “I’m the youth director over at the Meyers Center and I just think it’s a shame what your organization is doing to our yout
h in this city, especially our inner city youth.”

  “We aren’t doing a thing to them,” Grady shot back. “I think you need to get your facts straight--”

  “Listen, Grady,” Jason said, extending his hand, “I’ll talk with you later.” Grady looked at Liz as if he wasn’t anywhere near ready to end the conversation, but Jason had effectively left him no option. He shook Jason’s hand. “Remember what we discussed,” he reminded him, looked once more at Liz, and then left. Jason exhaled.

  “That was close,” he said as he placed his hand on the small of Liz’s back and motioned her toward his office.

  “What was close?”

  “He’s one of my biggest contributors, Elizabeth.”

  “So?”

  Jason walked her into his office and closed the door. “So,” he said, “you don’t upset your donors.”

  “But he’s nothing but a racist,” Liz said with disdain in her voice. “How could you accept a penny from him?”

  “What brings you all the way to our city hall?” Jason asked her, changing the subject.

  Liz was at first taken aback by his decision not to engage her regarding Grady Hayward. It made her look at him oddly, and wonder if she knew him at all.

  “He’s a racist, Jason,” she continued, refusing to leave it alone.

  “Why is he a racist? Because he doesn’t like the Meyers Center?”

  “How can you accept money from an organization like CHS?”

  Jason exhaled. “What’s up?” he asked, refusing to engage her.

  He disappointed her, but she moved on, anyway. She had her own problems. “Did you hire people to move my furniture out of my apartment?”

  “Oh, that,” Jason said as if the fact that movers were at her home was no big deal. “Yes, I handled it.”

  “But you didn’t tell me anything about it.”

  “Didn’t I? You’re right. I had gotten so busy, I guess I forgot.”

  “You forgot? How could you forget? I just gave you a key to my apartment last night.

  That means you contacted those movers this morning.”

  “Yesterday, actually. That’s why I asked for the key. Honestly, I thought I had mentioned it. Are you sure I didn’t?”

  “Of course I’m sure, Jason! Somebody tells me they want to move all of my furniture out of my house, it’s not something I’d forget. Especially since I would have told them no way.”

  “Well that is a problem because you’ve got to move.”

  Liz frowned. “And why do I have to move?”

  “Because no woman of mine is living in an apartment surrounded by office buildings that’s practically deserted at night. That’s why.”

  “So you just decide to move me out? Without discussing this with me?”

  “Yes, that was my mistake. I should have mentioned it.”

  “Not just mention it, Jason. You should have discussed it with me. It’s not for you to decide.”

  “Okay, I should have discussed it with you. I just thought that you’d understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  Jason didn’t want to go there. “I have another meeting in less than ten minutes, Liz. Why don’t we discuss this tonight?”

  “We will discuss it right now. What is it you expect me to understand?”

  “That I’m a politician. That’s what.”

  “And?”

  “And no woman of mine can live in a place like your apartment. My political enemies would have a field day with that.”

  “Oh, I see. So where I live is an embarrassment to you. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “It’s not an embarrassment, Liz. I just don’t want my opponent to make an issue out of it.”

  Liz frowned. “What kind of issue? It’s my home. My life. Where I live has nothing to do with you.”

  “It does now.”

  This caused Liz to shutter, because he was right. She had decided to hitch her wagon to a politician of all people, to a man who made his living being everything people wanted him to be. What was she thinking?

  She began to leave.

  “Liz, wait,” Jason insisted and hurried over to her. He grabbed her by both arms.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I just wanted to get it done, that’s all. But will you do this for me? Will you move into a. . . a nicer place for me?”

  “I live where I can afford, Jace. And I refuse to allow you or anybody else to pay my way.”

  “But what if it’s already paid for? Will that work?”

  “Already paid for? You mean your house? You expect me to move in with you?”

  “Not move in with me, no, I wouldn’t disrespect you like that. I’m talking about my penthouse apartment over at the Birmingham.”

  Liz looked at him. “You still have that place?”

  “Of course I do. And it’s paid for and won’t cost you a dime to live there. At least stay there for now, Liz.”

  “During the campaign you mean?”

  Jason hated to admit it. “Yes. During the campaign.”

  “But don’t the public already know that you own the apartment at the Birmingham, too?”

  “They may know that I own it, but they also know that I’ve never lived there since becoming mayor. It’s been virtually uninhabited for years now.”

  “But why take my furniture there?”

  “Because I wanted you to feel at home. They were supposed to place mine in storage first.”

  Liz shook her head. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

  “When it comes to you and me,” Jason said, pulling her into his arms, “yes.” Liz couldn’t help but smile. And although she allowed him to kiss her, and even to lift her blouse and suck her breasts while they stood in the middle of his office, she still felt that she was relinquishing too much; that she was doing exactly what she said she’d never do again: bend to another person’s will.

  TWELVE

  The meeting was held at Jason’s home. Stephen, DeeDee, Dexter McGhee, the mayor’s legislative aide, and Carl Browning, his communications/campaign director, were all present.

  Liz was also present, not because she was invited, but because she had spent the night with Jason and was in the shower when the meeting commenced.

  Jason still had not officially announced that he would seek re-election. It was a foregone conclusion in every circle, but the formal announcement would not come until after his Democratic opponent announced. Jason was certain to run unopposed, but now with the news that Hamp Morgan would be the Dems choice, their plans had to be revamped. Their hope had been that the Democratic primaries would be long and bloody, with the Dems beating up on each other to such an extent that nobody gets out of it unscathed, especially not the ultimate victor, but Hamp Morgan was sure to clear the field and run unopposed too. Which worried Carl Browning the most.

  “Our messaging out of the mayor’s office itself has got to change,” he said. He was seated on the sofa in the living room, sandwiched between Dexter and Stephen. Jason was seated in sofa across from them, with DeeDee seated beside him. “Our ‘the right mayor for the right time,’ would have worked if the Dems would have selected a weak field of candidates the way they usually do, but now everything’s changed.”

  “And what about his daughter?” Dexter wanted to know. “What is going to be her public position on her father’s candidacy?”

  Jason attempted to shield his distress. That was an issue he had swept under the rug. He was still unsure how he would handle it. “She doesn’t have a public position,” he said.

  Stephen looked at their boss. “Does she even know about his candidacy?”

  “No, as it happens,” Jason admitted, “and I don’t want her to know. Not yet.” It was a matter of degrees for Jason. Liz was warming more and more to their relationship. He wasn’t about to let Hamp Morgan or anybody else pull them backwards. He would discuss it with her soon. Hamp isn’t set to announce for another couple weeks.

  “She needs to know bef
ore Hamp announces.”

  “I know that, Stephen. And she will.”

  “We need to control that situation, too.”

  “Yes, Stephen, I know. Now let’s move on.”

  All of Jason’s staff looked concerned. They’d never known the boss to be so seemingly nervous about some girlfriend of his.

  “It’s serious then?” Carl asked him.

  Jason attempted to smile it off. “What, Carl, inquiring minds want to know?”

  “Political minds. Especially those of us who have to deal with political minefields. And this, my friend, may be a political minefield.”

  Jason ran his hand across his face. “I know. I’ll handle it.”

  “And the daughter of this minefield,” DeeDee said. “Can you handle her?” Jason didn’t respond.

  “We know it’s personal, Jace,” Dexter said, “but it’s vital that you are able to handle her.

  I have to deal with the city council on a daily basis. We need as many of them enthusiastic supporters of ours, not tepid ones. If they feel you don’t have all of this under control and can be beat by Hamp Morgan, they may withhold that support.”

  “Can be beat by Hamp Morgan?” DeeDee said incredulously. “Dex please! Hamp Morgan, a Democrat, a black, okay, isn’t going to beat Jason.”

  “That’s what you say. That’s not what I say. Your negative views of Democrats and of people of the African race, of which I’m a member,” Dexter reminded her, “is not the majority view in this town. A plurality of the people hate Dems and blacks, a plurality of the people love Dems and blacks. It’s that independent middle that we need to convince, and they don’t love Dems, blacks, Republicans, whites, they don’t love anybody. They want to throw all the bums out and keep the other bums from getting in. That middle can be fertile ground for a well-known businessman like Hamp Morgan, especially since many of those independent voters probably have frequented his club a time or two and actually enjoyed themselves. They may have even met him during those visits, Hamp is good at working the crowd, and they may have liked his style. Don’t you dare underestimate Hamp Morgan.”

  “I agree with Dex,” Stephen said, to DeeDee’s anger. “With a man like Morgan in the race, all he’ll need is a third of the white vote. He gets a majority of the blacks and Hispanics, and he will, he’ll be home free. Minorities tend to stay at home during general elections here in Jacksonville. They won’t when one of theirs is in the race, and has a great chance at winning.”