Chapter Four

Bijal stepped off the Yellow Line train at the Metro transfer station and scanned the crowd for Fran. She glanced guiltily at her watch; she was over twenty minutes late. “Shit.” She searched the station again, slightly less hopeful now, and was instantly relieved to see her roommate glaring at her from about twenty yards away.

She hurried over to her. “Fran, I’m so sorry!”

“Yeah, I was giving you five more minutes before I hopped on the Red Line and left your ass behind.”

“Our staff meeting ran late—and this whole Park and Ride thing is becoming a tremendous pain in the ass.”

Fran’s left eyebrow rose critically. “So is my stomach, which has begun to eat itself while I’ve been stuck here, watching the local crazies talk to themselves. I think some homeless guy took a shit in the corner over there.”

“Um—”

“Anyway, we need to decide where we’re getting dinner. You can bitch to me about your day once we’re on the train.”

Bijal’s remorse returned. “Fair enough. I made you wait, so you pick.”

“Okay, let’s hit Hector’s Hacienda, then. I’m dying for their pork enchiladas.”

“Ooh,” Bijal said excitedly. “And a pitcher of margaritas. Let’s go.”

They boarded the Red Line train on their way to Dupont Circle. As they took their seats, the doors shut and Bijal sighed tiredly as she set down her messenger bag and rubbed her eyes.

“Okay, you can start dishing,” Fran said.

“First, I need your word that you won’t turn my venting into an opportunity to lecture me on the perils of conservatism.”

Fran pouted. “Oh, come on. That’s not fair. You know what joy that brings me.”

“I’ll buy dinner,” Bijal offered.

“Deal. I’ll be as nonpartisan as I can manage.”

“Good, because I could really use some political advice.”

“So what’s the problem?” Fran asked.

“I’m starting to suspect that drunken monkeys are running our campaign.”

Fran scoffed. “Well, when I volunteered last year for Councilman Jeffries, brain-damaged cockroaches ran our campaign. Drunken monkeys would have been a step up. Congratulations. At least your incompetents have opposable thumbs.”

“Yeah, but I’m concerned we won’t be able to pull off a win. We don’t seem to be making smart moves.”

“Hmm, and who’s your campaign manager?”

Bijal sneered slightly. “Donna Shoemaker.”

“I don’t know the name.”

“You know her. She played the Nazi dentist in that movie Marathon Man. ”

Fran laughed loudly. “Wow, as cuddly as all that, huh?”

“She’s threatened to fire me at least once a day since I started. At first I thought she didn’t like me, but now, after only a week, I know she does that to everyone in the office.”

“Is this before she drills your teeth without anesthetic and asks you if it’s safe?”

“After—directly after. But seriously, I’m really worried about how things are going.”

Fran appeared to ponder this. “Okay, let’s review the facts and we’ll see what we can do.”

Bijal began digging through her bag and pulled out a ragged-looking legal pad. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said with a smile.

“I am so getting dessert for this.”

“As much flan as you can keep down,” Bijal said.

“So start with your opponent. Give me her highlights.”

Bijal began flipping through her notes. “Congresswoman Colleen O’Bannon––thirty-four years old, incumbent representative of the twelfth district of Virginia. Her family owns and operates the Arc of Orion distillery in Fulton County, and has since 1934.”

“Ooh, really?”

“Could you try to be a little less enthused, please?”

“Come on, she’s young, queer, liberal, powerful, and likes the sauce. She and I are made for each other.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmm, I can imagine her licking fancy booze off my cinnamon nipples all night long. And in the morning, we’d talk about universal health care and repealing the death penalty.”

“Jesus, Fran. Try and keep it in your pants at least until we get to the restaurant, okay?”

She looked contrite. “Sorry. Go on.”

Bijal looked back at the legal pad and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “When O’Bannon was elected, she passed her management position at Arc of Orion on to her younger brother.”

“Okay, so she didn’t have any political experience before being elected?”

“No,” Bijal replied.

“And Mayor Denton has been in office for nearly four years. So with only a single two-year term under her belt, you guys can run on having more experience—an unusual strategy against an incumbent.”

“Well, get this. After O’Bannon’s girlfriend of three years was killed in the East Bay Abortion Clinic bombing and it yielded no prosecutions, she decided to run for Congress.”

“Damn,” Fran rasped. “That’s heartbreaking and inspiring at the same time.”

“I know, and I don’t think we can make the experience argument, because all Mayor Denton’s currently known for in Ravensdale is promising to cut property taxes and then actually having to raise them after she took office. She has a bit of a credibility problem to overcome.”

“Well, that is a problem. But O’Bannon can’t have accomplished too much in one term.”

“Actually, she co-sponsored the O’Bannon-Croft Hate Crimes bill that the president recently signed.”

“Oh,” Fran said. “She’s that O’Bannon.”

“Now you’re starting to see my dilemma.”

“I think so.”

Bijal consulted her notes again. “She’s also co-sponsoring that bill on nondiscrimination in the workplace that’s supposed to be introduced early next year. She’s a co-chair of the Congressional LGBT Equality Caucus, and a member of the House Armed Services Committee, the Committee on Foreign Affairs, and the House Select Committee on Energy Independence and Global Warming.”

“And Mayor Denton?”

“Is struggling to get cameras installed at the major intersection in her jerkwater, pissant town that would take pictures of drivers who run red lights.”

“Wow. Well, let me ask you, Bij, what’s your personal impression of the mayor? Do you think she’s qualified for Congress?”

Bijal thought about that as the train pulled up to their stop and she tucked her notes back into her bag. “I like her. She’s very personable.”

“Okay,” Fran said slowly as the doors opened and they strolled with the flow of the crowd into the station. “Is she smart?”

“She’s not stupid.”

“Hmm, not what I asked. Let me put it this way. Is O’Bannon smart?”

“Absolutely.”

“See that? There’s your problem right there. You need to go with the whole ‘my candidate may not be very bright, but she’s likeable’ strategy.” They rapidly filed out into the street.

“Well, it’s not like that hasn’t worked before,” Bijal replied.

“Please, don’t remind me. Now, tell me about the mayor.”

“She’s fifty-two and nearing the end of her first term. Before she was elected, she was a member of the city council. Her husband is a minister, and she has three kids that range in age from thirteen to twenty-two.”

Fran frowned.

“Yeah, not very exciting, is it?”

“And she doesn’t sound like the kind of person who people might find earthy or easy to relate to. She married a minister?”

“Well, someone has to.”

“Tell that to Catholic priests,” Fran said as they headed toward the flashing lights of Hector’s Hacienda.

“It should help secure her the right-wing vote,” Bijal said hopefully.

“Girl, you’re running against a liquor-peddling lesbian. The mayor could be married to a seven-foot rubber dildo with a Hitler mustache and she’d have the right-wing vote.”

“Yeah, but unfortunately, to appeal to moderates, she may have to walk that fine line where she risks losing the support of conservatives. I’m really banging my head against the wall here. I mean, how far to the left is too far?”

“You certainly have your work cut out for you.”

“The thing is,” Bijal said wistfully, “I’m worried that Donna is a loose cannon who isn’t exactly on the ball. Whatever chances we have become even more remote because she doesn’t ever seem to know what she’s talking about, never reads her e-mail, isn’t up on current events or issues, and spends most of her time blaming staff members for things she missed.”

“So, don’t worry so much about winning this election. Just chalk it up as experience for the résumé.”

“You know I don’t work that way, Fran. I can’t do things halfheartedly. I really want Janet Denton to win.”

“Even after everything you just told me?”

“I think she just needs to take control of her campaign—”

“And shitcan her campaign manager?”

“And get back on the right track. O’Bannon may be very involved for a first-term representative, but she’s part of the big-government, high-spending movement that most upper- and middle-class folks are tired of. I can help Janet become the right kind of candidate. She can be the socially moderate, fiscally responsible Republican people are looking for.”

They stood in the doorway of the noisy restaurant and Fran held up two fingers to the hostess, who waved them through to be seated.

“Well, if that’s what you think, then that’s what you run on.”

“Yeah, I just need Mayor Denton to agree.”

Fran looked up at the server who arrived promptly at their table. “We need a pitcher of frozen margaritas, my friend. And two glasses with salt.”

Bijal thumbed through the article she’d printed out. She’d been trying to read it for nearly fifteen minutes, but her mind kept drifting to the upcoming debate scheduled between Mayor Denton and Congresswoman O’Bannon.

After only two weeks on the job, she was starting to feel that Janet’s campaign was like a runaway freight train that she’d never be able to get back on track. So far, she’d had no success talking to the mayor without Donna there, and Donna was still spending a fair amount of time glaring at Bijal and threatening her job.

She tossed the pages haphazardly on her desk, intending to read them later when she was less distracted. She reclaimed her computer mouse and, out of habit, did a search on “Colleen O’Bannon.”

A news entry she hadn’t seen earlier was now at the top of the search results. She clicked it and scanned the story with great interest.

Once done, she rose, approached the mayor’s office, and knocked on Janet’s door, knowing she was ensconced in there with Donna. Swallowing loudly, she listened for a response from within.

Instead, the door flew open and she was face-to-face with a very aggravated-looking campaign manager. “What is it?” Donna barked.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bijal replied softly, staring past her antagonist and speaking directly to Mayor Denton. “But I thought you’d want to know that O’Bannon has responded publicly to the gay-bashing in DC yesterday.”

Donna blinked absently. “Gay-bashing?”

“Uh, you know,” Bijal explained awkwardly, “the two men who were beaten downtown last night?” Neither Janet nor Donna showed a glimmer of recognition, so Bijal continued. “One was killed? The other’s in critical condition?”

Janet finally mustered an expression, and it was apparently confusion. “I must have missed that story.”

Bijal was now officially livid. “Um…okay.” Did the two of them just sit in the office telling ghost stories and making s’mores all day while everyone else in the office actually worked? How did they both miss such a major local news story? The national press had even run it that morning.

“Did O’Bannon decide to have a big gay press conference?” Donna asked sarcastically. “That can only help us.”

“No,” Bijal replied curtly. “But the media approached her for a statement since she’s both openly gay and a co-sponsor of the hate-crimes bill. I sent you both a link to the story with her full response.”

“Great,” Janet said brightly. “Thanks.” Neither made a move to look at Janet’s computer.

A very awkward silence ensued as Bijal became more incredulous that she was apparently the only person in the room who cared about this development. “Because the press may want to get your response as well,” she suggested, trying to help them understand. More silence. “Since you’re her opponent…and this has become a very visible issue.”

“Maybe we could get some free airtime out of this,” Janet suggested to Donna.

Donna shook her head rapidly. “We don’t want to touch this with a ten-foot pole, Janet. Let’s let this pitch go by and we’ll swing at the next one. Roo, if anyone calls for a statement on this, we have no comment. Let everyone know.”

“You don’t think we should prepare anything?” Bijal asked, no longer caring that her annoyance was patently audible in her voice.

Janet cocked her head slightly. “What are you thinking, Bijal? Do you have an idea?”

“It’s important as a mayor of a small town for you to shift more inside the Beltway.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Donna asked, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“It means that it’s more important for Janet to be seen as out front on issues that are national, and even more so on issues within DC—which, incidentally, isn’t that far from District 12.”

Janet scowled. “Hmm.”

“But there’s no way to win on this issue, Roo. If we come out as even remotely pro-gay or pro-hate-crime legislation, we risk losing the right.”

Bijal suddenly pictured the large Hitler dildo Fran had described. “I don’t believe that.”

Donna looked stunned. “You what?”

“We need to be appealing to the moderates, not the social conservatives. O’Bannon’s already put herself out there as extremely progressive. No matter where you stand on most issues, you’ll be to the right of her. We can make real ground by focusing on those in the middle.”

“Good point,” Janet said absently.

“So if you believe polls and statistics regarding hate crimes, most voters agree with O’Bannon. It’s a win/win situation for us to make a public statement. We need to start siphoning voters away from her.”

“Right,” Janet replied with a nod, sounding only slightly more certain than she had the second before.

Donna glowered. “Okay, Roo. You’ve given your two cents. Thank you.”

“Sure, and it’s Rao. ” Bijal refused to break eye contact with her until the door was shut between them.

Bijal seethed for nearly two hours about what a horrendous, incompetent bitch Donna was. Only when the phone on the desk to her right rang did she allow herself to stop visualizing Donna’s evisceration.

“No, the mayor has no comment on that,” her officemate Kristin was saying to whoever had called. Her face suddenly registered shock, then twisted up. “What? Could you please repeat that? No, she has no comment on that either. No, sorry.” Kristin hung up, but her mouth hung open.

“What is it?” Bijal asked.

“That was the Herald,” Kristin replied, her eyes wide with panic. “They wanted the mayor’s response to her husband’s comments on hate crimes.”

“What?” Bijal shouted the question so loudly that the other half dozen staffers hustled over to her desk in time to see her do an Internet news search on “Reverend Denton.” To her horror, an article appeared, as though to taunt her—“Congressional Candidate’s Husband Denounces Victims of Gay Bashing.” “Oh, shit. Someone go get the mayor.”

After some coaxing, both Janet and Donna emerged from the mayor’s office, eating Chinese food from the cartons.

“What is it?” Donna asked, her mouth full of lo mein.

Bijal read directly from the Web article.
Reverend Albert Denton, minister and husband of congressional hopeful Mayor Janet Denton, stated today that the two victims of an assault outside a District of Columbia gay bar last night that left one of the two dead were “inviting that kind of aggressive response” by “defiantly embracing sin.”

Rev. Denton, who went on to say that neither he nor his wife “support the gay lifestyle” or any legislation that would “give special rights to people who brazenly engage in immoral behavior,” was asked to respond to public statements made by his wife’s opponent Rep. Colleen O’Bannon.

O’Bannon is one of only a handful of openly gay members of Congress and is a co-sponsor of a recently passed anti-hate-crime law. Earlier today, O’Bannon told the press that a government that “allows hate crimes to continue without penalty is complicit every time an act of violent discrimination occurs. In a country that boasts ‘liberty and justice for all,’ we now send a clear message we won’t tolerate persecution of anyone. I hope the perpetrators of such a reprehensible act are quickly found and prosecuted fully.”

O’Bannon’s opponent, Janet Denton, currently mayor of Ravensdale, VA, was not available for comment via her campaign spokesperson. However, her husband readily responded to press inquiries regarding both the recent crime, as well as the related O’Bannon-Croft hate crimes legislation.

Rep. O’Bannon, contacted with Rev. Denton’s statements, said, “While I have no interest in starting a feud with either Mayor Denton or her husband, I’m horrified that anyone would imply that two people walking down a sidewalk somehow ‘invited’ a brutal beating and murder. That kind of bigoted and incendiary rhetoric is precisely the problem, and frankly, it’s an outrage.”
Bijal spun around in her chair and scowled at Donna.

Janet shook her head. “God damn it, Albert.” She looked at Donna apologetically. “I had no idea they’d try to talk to him.”

“Bastards,” Donna spat.

“So now what?” Janet asked. “Do we release a statement?”

Donna grumbled loudly. “We’ll have to. Roo, pull Albert’s comments in their entirety and print me a copy. We’ll have to parse his words so it looks like what he said was just taken out of context. Kristin, brew a new pot of coffee. Janet, call your husband right now and tell him that if he utters another syllable to anyone, I’ll personally cut his nuts off.”

“Hello?”

“Hey, Fran. It’s me.” Bijal sighed into her cell phone as she got into her car and shut the door. “I got your voice mail.”

“Holy shit, girl! What’s going on over there? I thought I’d turned on the movie Footloose, but instead of John Lithgow preaching about the evils of dancing to bad eighties music in a barn, it turned out it was just your boss’s husband on MSNBC. And in case you don’t know yet, that jackass is all over the blogs.”

Bijal rested her forehead on her steering wheel and closed her eyes. “I know, believe me. If they’d just responded to O’Bannon’s comments proactively, like I fucking suggested, the press probably wouldn’t even have contacted that idiot.”

“Wait a second,” Fran said, the indignation evident in her voice. “You suggested they respond earlier and they didn’t?”

“Yup. Remember when I mentioned how useless our campaign manager is?”

“That does sound familiar. Well, I hope your foresight got you something.”

“Oh, it did—a series of very nasty looks and an extra”—she paused to peer at her watch in the darkness—“two and a half hours at the office trying to do damage control.”

“Damn, that sucks. Are you on your way home?”

“Actually, I need you to do me a favor, Fran.”

“What?”

“Can you go online and find me a lesbian bar, anything within a forty-mile radius? I’ve spent a large portion of my day listening to people talk shit about gays, and I need to cleanse myself.”

Fran laughed softly. “I hear you. It just so happens that I’m online right now…and you’re in luck, sister.”

“Thank God! I knew I couldn’t be languishing in this fucking Stepford town all alone. What’s it called?”

“You’re gonna like this—The Klit N’ Kaboodle.”

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