“So you’re telling me,” DeeDee said, “that Jace could actually lose this election?” The room went still, with all eyes on Stephen, even Jason’s. “Yes,” Stephen said.
Silence entered the room and remained for a good long time. Jason had already figured as much. He knew what magnetism, what charisma a man like Hamp Morgan could display.
The race would be close if not a landslide on the other side. But he also knew Liz could be devastated by the fact that she would have to choose between her father and her man. They were official now, they were an item, but they were still an item in its infancy where nurturing, not drama and melodrama, was needed. And although the conversation continued, with no more discussions of Hamp Morgan for the moment, Jason’s mind couldn’t leave Hamp Morgan, not because of Hamp, but because of Liz.
Then he heard her voice. “Jason?” she said in that soft preen he loved. He looked across the room and saw her standing there, in her shorts and blue, crisscross blouse, looking radiant.
“Hope we weren’t disturbing you,” he said, standing.
“Me? No. And I hate to interrupt your meeting, but I need to get going.”
“Could we,” Carl said, rising too, “I mean, excuse me, Miss Morgan, but I was wondering if we can pick your brain for a quick second?’
Jason looked at Carl. Carl held his ground. “Not about that, Jace, but I think she could help us.”
“Sure,” Liz said and entered the living room. She never cared for politics, but she knew she had better get used to it if she expected to romance a mayor. Jason held out his hand for her and sat her down on the sofa beside him, effectively placing himself between her and DeeDee Ramstead.
“Let me introduce everybody. I know you know Stephen, but I don’t think you’ve met anyone else in my inner circle, as the press loves to call it.”
“I’ve met Miss Ramstead,” Liz said, meeting DeeDee’s eyes.
“Yes,” DeeDee said, all smiles. “And how are you?”
“I’m lovely, and you?”
“Marvelous.”
“Good.”
“Well good,” Liz said, playing along. That witch wanted to pull her eyeballs out of her sockets, and Liz knew it, but she also knew politics was always a game of going along to get along to get where you needed to be. It was always a game, not of admiration, but of toleration.
“And this is Carl Browning, my communications-slash-campaign director. And Dex McGhee, former Jaguars quarterback. He’s my legislative director. He’s my pipeline to the city council.”
“Nice to meet you,” Liz said. “So, how can I help?”
“We were wondering,” Carl began, “since you work at the Meyers Center, what you thought was the mayor’s problem in that community.”
“Sorry?” Liz asked, genuinely confused by the question.
“What he’s asking, Liz,” Jason said, “is why is it that I can only generate a few percentage points of African-American support each election cycle?”
“Oh!” Then she looked at Carl. “And you think I can answer such a question?”
“Yes,” DeeDee answered for him. “You’re black, aren’t you?” Jason looked at DeeDee. She’d always been a handful, but she usually wasn’t blatantly rude.
“If I’m not mistaken, Mr. McGhee is also an African-American, so apparently that’s not enough.”
“No, it’s not,” Carl said, visibly upset with DeeDee. “It’s your unique position in the black community that interests me. I mean, the mayor does outreach to that community every election cycle, but with no success.”
“Maybe it’s because he waits until the election cycle to reach out,” Liz said and Dexter smiled.
“My point forever,” Dexter said.
“We do have a base we have to appease, Dex,” Stephen reminded him, “and you know it.”
“Then don’t ask ridiculous questions,” Dexter agreed. “Of course that’s the answer. Do more outreach and do it earlier, but nobody has time for that.”
“Blacks hate Republicans,” DeeDee said. “Why should we waste our time?”
“Because this year,” Dexter started, but then stopped himself. “Because we need more support in the minority communities. Remember, the mayor gets even less support from Hispanics.”
“Don’t remind me,” Jason said with a smile, causing Liz to smile too. She admired the way he seemed to take obstacles in stride. Unless, of course, those obstacles were in her way.
Then he was the proverbial bull in a china shop, destroying any and everything in his wake, all in the name of clearing the way for her. She loved and feared that particular quality about him.
“And what about political etiquette,” DeeDee said and Liz and everybody else’s eyes looked at her upper arm. “A mayor’s girlfriend has to know the do’s and don’ts.” Liz looked at Jason. He’d already moved her out of her apartment for appearances sake.
Would he try to move her out of her own style, too? If he did, she knew it would be over.
Enough was quickly becoming too much.
“She’ll be herself, DeeDee, ” Jason quick said, “and that’s all the etiquette she’ll need.” Liz smiled. “And since I’m the only one, other than Liz, who has a vote in the matter, I consider the matter closed.”
“Amen,” Dexter said, looking angrily at DeeDee. That woman would go anywhere to hurt another female, he noticed.
Carl Browning decided to reenter the fray, to refocus the conversation. “I was hoping, Miss Morgan, that you, in your unique position, would have some sage advice for us,” Carl said with a smile. He was probably the friendliest of the group Jason chose to have around him, although, to Liz, that wasn’t saying much. “How, do you think, the mayor can appeal more to minority voters? Other than more outreach before the election cycle, since it’s too late for that now.”
“Well,” Liz said, crossing her shapely legs, causing the eyes of every man in the room to immediately shift in that direction. Every man except Jason, especially when he remembered how they were wrapped around him last night as he lifted her and penetrated her so deeply that her scream seemed like such a mixture of agony and ecstasy that it turned him on even more.
He knew her legs now like he knew the back of his hand. He didn’t need to take sneak peeps.
He was amused, however, that his entire male staff found it necessary. “The mayor can start,” she went on, “by cutting ties with an overtly racist organization like the Conservative Heritage Society. Every minority knows what they’re about.” Stephen frowned. “You must be joking! They’re one of our largest donors, not to mention one of Jason’s staunchest supporters. We can’t give that up!”
“Then you have your answer.”
“You don’t understand,” Stephen said.
“I understand perfectly. I understand that politics make strange bedfellows. But CHS is too strange for minorities. You want to show signs, get rid of CHS.” Stephen rolled his eyes, as did DeeDee, but Jason looked conflicted. If he lose his conservative base, his political future was doomed. But if he lose Liz and her respect, his life was doomed. He exhaled. “Send out a press release, Dee,” he said, “announcing my decision to decline Grady Hayward’s endorsement. And send it out today,” he added.
Liz looked at him, astounded. After the way he didn’t want to discuss it the other day, she didn’t expect him to move at all. He was beginning to amaze her, which, in a budding but still tumultuous relationship, was the best either one of them could hope for.
***
Later that same day was another political meeting, this one involving Hamp Morgan at his massive office above the Big D nightclub. In addition to Hamp, his son Malcolm and Clay Davis were in attendance. After the mayor came out publicly that Liz was his girlfriend, Clay had become angry. It was his opinion that an asshole Republican like Jason Rascone did not deserve a woman like Liz Morgan, not that beautiful black sister who could have any black man she wanted. When Mal told her that he and his father believed the mayor was usin
g her, he knew he had to get involved. He asked for and received an audience with Hamp Morgan.
“So he just barged his way into your dinner with Liz?” Hamp asked.
“Yes, sir,” Clay said, sitting, with Mal, in front of Hamp’s massive desk. Hamp was seated behind his desk. “As if he owned her.”
“I’m not surprised. He always had a, shall I say, romantic interest in Liz. He claimed he’s the one who took her virginity.”
Clay was stunned. “Really? Was he the one?”
“Don’t be idiotic,” Hamp said. “He didn’t have access to my daughter but one night, the night before she left for Harvard, and she was eighteen by then. No way was that unhinged bitch still a virgin.”
Clay was astounded by Hamp’s description of his own daughter, but not entirely surprised. Hamp always seemed to treat Liz with little respect, as if Mal was his real child and she was somehow a pretender. Some of his friends thought it had to do with the fact that Hamp was so in love with Liz’s mother that when she died, he took it out on Liz. Clay couldn’t say.
“Yeah, she was out there all right,” Clay said, remembering Liz and remembering that her antics was one of the reasons why they stopped hanging, but she never gave it up to him. It wouldn’t be out of the question for Liz to have remained a virgin until she was eighteen.
Unless Mr. Morgan knew something Clay didn’t know.
“You know he went to Harvard looking for her after she left town,” Hamp said.
“Who?” Clay asked, shocked if he had it right. “Rascone?”
“Yup,” Mal said. “That’s how we found out who she’d taken up with. Jason told us.”
“But why would he go all the way to Harvard?” Clay wanted to know.
“Why do you think?” Hamp said. “To hook up with her again. My daughter is as quirky as all get out, but she’s also gorgeous in case you missed it. He slept with her, loved the sex undoubtedly, and had to have it again. And believe you me, sex was the only thing that would get an immoral prick like Bulldog Rascone on a plane for Massachusetts to hook up with some girl.”
“But they never hooked up?”
“Not as far as we know, they didn’t,” Mal said. “Until here recently, which we knew nothing about. Now you say he came at you during your dinner date with her.”
“Well, not at me. He was actually very nice. But man was he possessive of Liz. It was like he wanted me to know in no uncertain terms that she was his.” Hamp glanced at Mal. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Mal said.
“About right for what?” Clay asked.
“For what Rascone is up to,” Hamp said. “He’s using her, don’t you dare think he’s not.
He’s trying to position himself to neutralize the black vote. If he can peel off just ten percent of that vote, he’ll win reelection. The fact that he’s dating a black woman could be romantic to some folks, I don’t know, it’s ridiculous to me. But never underestimate the voting public.
Half of the Republicans think President Obama wasn’t born in the US of A. What does that tell you?”
“That stupidity comes in every race?” Clay said and Hamp and Mal laughed.
“Exactly,” Hamp said.
“But I still don’t get it. Even without black support, Rascone has always won his elections. Why would he need more black support this cycle?” Mal and his father exchanged glances again. “Because the Democratic party,” Mal said,
“is thinking seriously about running a credible black candidate. That’s why.” Clay immediately understood.
“So what should be done about it, gentleman?” Hamp asked. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I am not about to cede my daughter to that asshole, especially if using her could mean victory for him.”
“I say we get vocal,” Mal said. “We’ve got to go for the jugular.”
“The race card?” Clay asked.
“Deal the race card,” Mal said, ‘and deal it from the bottom of the deck.” Hamp looked at Clay. It was already their strategy. He just wanted to see if Clay could be an ally. When Clay slowly began to smile and push those glasses up on his flat face, he knew that he could. Good, he thought. It’s on.
THIRTEEN
“Manny is here to see you,” Shameika said as she entered Liz’s office. Liz was in the middle of going over her equipment inventory sheets and looked up only after noting that the computers had created a cost overrun.
“Who?”
“Manny. He says he’s from some garage that’s repairing your car.”
“Oh, yes! Send him through, please.”
Shameika opened the door wider, and Manny, the car repairman, came through.
“Hi,” Liz said, standing up. “Have a seat.”
“I can’t stay,” Manny said, walking up and handing her her keys. “These are yours.” Liz looked at the keys and then looked at him. “I don’t understand. I know the storage fees are racking up, but I told you as soon as I can get up the cash, I’ll take care of it.”
“Lady, your car was paid for a couple weeks ago. We just had to finish repairing it.”
“Paid for? By whom?”
“Some guy named Carl Browning. He took care of it.”
Liz wanted to smile. Jason.
“It’s outside,” Manny said as he was leaving. “It’s good to go.” Liz hurried to the window, saw her beloved Mustang parked behind Jason’s Aston Martin, and she smiled. And got Jason on his cell phone.
“Thank-you,” she said.
“You’re welcome, my princess,” Jason responded. He was walking toward the city council chambers to discuss the latest amendments scheduled for votes later today. “May I ask what it is I’m being thanked for?”
“My Mustang is here. You had it repaired, in the name of Carl Browning, of course.” Jason smiled. “Of course. You’re pleased?”
“Very. Thank-you so much, Jace. I couldn’t be more pleased.”
“Then come over here and prove it.”
Liz laughed. “You are a sex fiend, you know that?”
“Only with you, my darling.” And Jason meant it.
“I’ve got work to do.”
“So do I. Tonight then?”
“No, not tonight. It’ll seem as if I’m paying you back with sex.”
“No, would it? Then not tonight. This afternoon.”
Liz laughed. “Bye, boy!” she said playfully and hung up the phone.
Her jovially mood was rocked less than an hour later, however, when she and Shameika were in the rec room talking to a group of teenagers who thought it would be cool to start up a rap group, the Meyers Center Rappers. Liz thought it showed creativity and ingenuity. She also saw that it would require discipline, their biggest weakness. The TV was on at the time, but nobody was paying it any attention until breaking news was announced. Liz and Shameika looked up and were shocked when Liz’s father, flanked by two political operatives they didn’t know, came on and announced his intention to run for mayor. Shameika looked at Liz.
“Your daddy running too?” she asked Liz, but Liz was too stunned to speak. Especially as her father’s press conference continued: “I have to run,” he said, “to save this city. Nobody will say it, but I will. Ever since Jason Rascone took over as mayor we have run budget deficits and lost all credibility with the markets. We need leadership from a businessman, somebody who will restore our greatness, and we need it now. Jason Rascone is nothing but a weak, ineffective leader who I personally know to be a racist on top of it.” Liz’s heart dropped.
“A racist?” one reporter asked. “How can you call the mayor a racist when he’s dating a black woman, a woman, by the way, who happens to be your daughter?”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” Hamp said. “Have you folks in the media once asked yourselves why? Why all of a sudden Mayor Rascone bust out with the big news about his relationship with a black woman, one that, as you said, Ed, happens to be my daughter? Isn’t that the most ironic thing? That of all the black women he could have chos
en, he chooses to date the one that happens to be the daughter of his opponent. That’s not ironic, folks, that plain cynical politics. Rascone will do anything to win. That’s why we used to call him Bulldog, because he’ll knock over you, me, and his sick grandmamma to win. Now he sees a black man in the race and figures he’s got to go black himself. Date a black woman, pick up a black vote here and there. Not that blacks are so simple as to vote for a man just because he dates one of their own, but Jason Rascone is betting that their just that simple-minded. That’s the racist creed. Pee on them and call it rain.” The press corps laughed.
“But your theory doesn’t hold up, Hamp,” Ed, the reporter, continued his questioning.
“You’re just this very moment announcing your surprise candidacy. How could the mayor have known about it if even we in the media didn’t?”
“Oh, he knew,” Hamp said, “because I told him myself.”
Liz could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“You told him?” Ed asked, stunned too.
“I told him a week before he announced that my daughter was his supposed girlfriend.
One solid week. He’s using her to neutralize the black vote and thereby beat me. Pure and simple.”
Shameika looked at Liz, who didn’t look well at all. “Mayor Rascone is using you?” she asked her. But Liz was in no position to answer. She walked out of the Center, got into her Mustang, and left.
***
Jason arrived back at his office after hearing the news, and after trying to reach Liz on her cell phone. “Call me, Liz,” he said when her voice mail picked up again. “Liz, it’s not true. Call me.”
His staff was already waiting for him in his office when he arrived. And every one of them was in damage control mode.
“I knew Hamp Morgan was ruthless,” Carl Browning said as Jason made his way to his desk. “But I never dreamed in a million years he could be this ruthless. That man is certifiable.”
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