Chapter Nine

Colleen sat at the desk in her congressional office going through her e-mail when a deep voice called from the doorway.

“Hey, Colleen. Do you have a minute?”

She looked up to see House Majority Whip Luke Sherman grinning at her. He was known by the entire District of Columbia as a smooth talker and a tough negotiator—two attributes that made him very good at his job.

“Sure,” Colleen replied. “Come on in.”

He shut the door behind him and took a seat across from her, his posture exuding comfort and cockiness. “How’s everything been going for you?” he asked. “Good?”

Colleen scoffed. “You know I like you, Luke. But you never just drop by for chit-chat.”

He flashed another insincere-looking smile and simply shrugged.

“You want to talk about the Patient Access Reform Act, I assume.” Colleen pushed her chair back so she could see him better.

“I do admire your bluntness.”

“Hmm, I don’t think you really do, but why quibble? I can’t vote for the bill as it currently reads, Luke.”

He rubbed his chin. “Because of Congressman Saturday’s amendment, I’m guessing.”

“Absolutely. It restricts women’s accessibility to abortion and sex education. How could I possibly vote for that?”

“Maybe indirectly,” he said slowly. “But in the end, that will only affect a small population of women.”

“The poor—the ones who need it most.”

“This bill does a lot of good things that will impact everyone,” he said, without addressing her point.

Colleen adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “So you’re telling me that the right to a legal medical procedure for some poverty-stricken Americans is just collateral damage? That’s a price you’re willing to pay for the rest of that reform bill?”

He shifted in his chair. “Look, you know that this reform, both comprehensively and in small pieces, has been on our agenda for a long time.”

She nodded.

“And you know that politics is nothing but compromise.”

Again she nodded.

“Now I agree that this bill isn’t perfect, but what bill ever is? It’s important to the Democratic Party to move this into the win column, especially with Election Day weeks away. Am I right?”

“Actually, no. You’re not right.”

Luke looked incredulous. “What? Where did I lose you?”

“You left out a few critical facts.”

His eyebrow arched. “Such as?”

She grabbed a three-ring binder sitting on her desk and flipped to a page near the back. “Such as the minor oversight that the formal platform of our party says we ‘strongly and unequivocally support a woman’s right to choose a safe and legal abortion, regardless of ability to pay, and we oppose any and all efforts to weaken or undermine that right.’ Remember that? It’s a pledge to the American people.”

“Come on, you’re making a mountain out of molehill.”

Colleen was officially becoming irritated. “You think so? Well, I suppose you could try to rely on the charisma and appeal of the amendment’s sponsor. Oh, wait. I guess that might be a challenge since Congressman Saturday is an eighty-three-year-old former segregationist.”

“Ancient history, O’Bannon.” Luke’s calm façade seemed to be faltering.

“Perhaps it is to you. Maybe not to me, or to a lot of African Americans. Between the two of us, Saturday doesn’t have a lick of compassion in his whole body. Is he really who you want portrayed as the face of the Democratic Party?”

“This isn’t about Saturday.”

“You’re right, Luke. It’s about the fact that this amendment would restrict non-abstinence-only sex-education programs that would actually reduce unwanted pregnancies. And it would limit abortion access for the women who are poorest. To totally abandon them like that is unconscionable.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his schmoozy demeanor now gone. “So forget the large majority of people who’ll benefit from the other reforms in the bill? Are you saying you care less about them and more about the minority? Don’t the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?”

“That depends, Mr. Spock. Are you selling the few down the river to claim a token victory for the many?”

“Look—”

“And one more thing you may have overlooked,” Colleen said, “is the teensy little detail that our party ran on the principle of progressive reform, and we won. So when the voters realize that not only did we not advance any significant progressive reform while we were in the majority, but we actually diluted some rights that they started with, do you really expect to be reelected? I mean, what’s your campaign strategy there? Next time we’ll screw you over less?”

Luke stood and started to pace. “So you think it’s better not to pass anything and have nothing to show come Election Day? Your strategy is ‘Sorry we didn’t accomplish a goddamn thing. We were trying to get it perfect, but we couldn’t stop screaming at each other long enough to make that happen’?”

“I think it’s better to keep your word. What does it say if we can’t accomplish all the reform we promised because so many of us are afraid to upset our corporate donors and actually vote the way we said we would? What part of ‘No, we didn’t do anything useful for you like we pledged to, but here’s something watered-down and moderately regressive that we’d like to take credit for’ sounds truly inspired to you?”

A muscle in Luke’s cheek twitched. “Funny you should mention reelection, O’Bannon. How’s your campaign coming along?”

Colleen eyed him suspiciously. He was like a completely different person now. “Fine.”

“That’s good. It must be hard running as a far-left liberal in a red district. I’d imagine you need a lot of support from the party—political endorsements, financial contributions.”

“Are you threatening me, Luke?” She rose, letting the edge of her desk support her, surprised at the turn in conversation.

“Goodness, no!” he replied disingenuously. “How could I? I’m certainly not involved in the decisions of the DCCC.” He crossed his arms and stared at her confrontationally.

Colleen was speechless. Was he trying to extort her vote on this bill by withholding assistance from the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee? “Oh?” She was disappointed that she couldn’t manage a more pithy response.

“Well, I can’t help that my peers consult my opinion from time to time. I suppose you could consider that a form of influence. And if you were to ask me what I thought you should do right now, I’d suggest that you slide a little closer to the center. Stop thumping your chest so hard and let the party help you. Don’t fight us. After all, if you don’t work toward the party’s goals, how can the party work toward yours?”

She looked at the floor. “So my vote on this bill will directly affect the party’s involvement in my campaign.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I don’t have that kind of power,” he lied. “I’m just…encouraging you to consider the potential ramifications of voting against this bill. It might look bad for you. You might seem obstructionist, which, I have to admit, is particularly off-putting in a woman—you know, to voters.”

“Just as veiled threats can be off-putting in men—you know, to everyone.”

Luke laughed and straightened his tie. “Well, on that note, I’ll leave you to chew on what we’ve discussed.”

“Thanks. Just so you know, it tastes a little bit like shit.”

She could hear him cackle as he headed toward his next destination.

Bijal walked into campaign headquarters and saw Kristin sitting at her desk, working furiously on her computer. Bijal loudly pulled up a chair across from her and got comfortable.

“Well, hey, stranger,” Kristin said with a smile. “How’s the night shift been?”

“Lots of junk food, somewhat demoralizing, chilly. It’s like I’m dating again.”

“Trust me, I’m married and it doesn’t sound much different.”

Bijal couldn’t deal with the thought of any more small talk. “I got your message, Kristin. Lay it on me.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe you haven’t heard.”

“I was on my way to an O’Bannon rally in Bankshire, but when I saw that your text included the word ‘catastrophic,’ I decided to stop by so you could explain exactly what happened.”

Kristin began queuing something up on her PC. “Slide over here and I’ll show you. I don’t think I’d be able to fully do this story justice anyway.”

Bijal moved her chair so she could see Kristin’s monitor. “Was the whole rally bad? Did the crowd turn on her or something?”

“No, and to be honest, it was going really well until the very end. I thought Janet related well to the audience, and she got a good amount of applause throughout.” Kristin continued to fiddle with the video player.

“Did angry liberals disrupt it? Protesters?”

Kristin grimaced and shook her head. “It was more of a…wardrobe malfunction.”

“Like her fly was down or something?”

“Here it is. Check this out.”

Kristin pressed Play and Bijal watched as Janet stood before a podium at the local fund-raising event just a few hours earlier. The crowd was clapping enthusiastically, and Janet was obviously beginning to announce her departure. “Thanks so much for taking the time to come, everyone,” she said. “I appreciate your time and your questions. But most of all, I want to thank you all for your interest in government and in your representatives. Have a great day, and God bless!”

Janet waved wildly to the attendees as she walked off the stage and into the wings, out of view of the camera and audience. “Thanks, thanks,” she said, her voice just as clear as it had been moments earlier when she had been addressing the crowd.

Bijal’s hand flew to her mouth as she realized that Janet must have still been wearing the remote microphone clipped to the lapel of her jacket. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, I know,” she was heard to say to someone. The people at the fund-raiser appeared puzzled by precisely what they were hearing booming over the PA system. “Yeah, that guy in red is a real asshole. No argument. Hey, can we stop at the ladies’ room? That Thai food from lunch is galloping through me like a freakin’ thoroughbred. Huh? Oh, sh—”

A shrill surge of feedback interrupted the final expletive, and the murmurs of the attendees grew louder before Kristin finally pressed Pause.

“Oh…my…God,” Bijal gasped.

Kristin nodded. “You see how ‘catastrophic’ might be the first word to come to mind?”

“Has it gone viral?”

“And then some. It’s already played on CNN. I expect it to be in heavy rotation by late tonight.”

“Holy shit,” Bijal said, stunned.

Kristin started loading another clip. “It gets better. The local affiliate who filmed this little gem decided to find the referenced ‘guy in red’ and get a comment from him. The news is running that video too.”

Bijal cringed as she watched the footage of a fidgety fat fellow in a red sweater beginning to speak. “I guess she had a problem with me asking her for specifics on what she’d do about unemployment,” he told the newscaster. “I thought it was a perfectly reasonable question, but I don’t see anyone else here in red. So I guess that makes me…well, the—”

The network bleeped the man’s final word.

“Why?” was all Bijal could say. “God, why?”

“Because apparently no one thought to remind Janet that her mic was both live and still attached to her.”

“It’s not because we’re cursed?”

Kristin chuckled. “Sometimes it feels that way.”

“Where’s Janet now?”

“Actually, she’s here. I think she’s hiding in her office while Donna gives interviews to the press trying to minimize the impact.”

Bijal blinked repeatedly as she let that sink in. “Because Donna is a master of reason and public relations.”

“Right,” Kristin said sarcastically. “And because Yosemite Sam was busy.”

“Maybe this is my opportunity to talk to Janet one-on-one.”

Kristin shrugged. “Just don’t take it personally if she’s not in a very good mood.”

Bijal stood up and looked at her watch. She had a little time before she needed to head over to Colleen’s rally. She started toward Janet’s office. “Nah. I’ll just assume the Thai food caused her surly disposition, not me.”

Bijal was surprised that not only was the mayor in her office alone, but that the door was open, revealing her going through her e-mail.

“Janet?”

“Hey, Bijal.” Janet smiled warmly. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Well, I’ve been busy doing the surveillance work Donna assigned me to.”

“Surveillance?”

Bijal had a sinking feeling in her gut. “Yeah, you know. I’ve been following Congresswoman O’Bannon around in the evenings. In fact, I’m headed off shortly to her event at the Sheraton.”

“Come on in and shut the door.”

Bijal did as she was asked and took a seat. This was starting to feel increasingly weird. “Didn’t Donna tell you about my assignment?”

Janet shook her head. “What is it you’re hoping to see?”

“Donna heard from someone’s brother’s cousin’s college room-mate that O’Bannon was dating someone.”

“So you’re following her around hoping to catch her in a late-night clinch with some UPS driver?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Hmm.” Janet seemed bothered.

“May I speak freely?”

“Please do, Bijal.”

She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “I want you to know that I really do support you as a candidate. I agree with your ideals, and I’d love to see you win.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t assume that all my paid employees feel that way.”

“But I have some concerns about Donna and some of the decisions she’s made regarding the campaign.”

Janet entwined her fingers and reclined in her chair. “For example?”

“Not releasing a proactive statement to the press regarding the gay-bashing. Attempting to court the right wing when the vast majority of our undecided voters are moderates. Making me waste my time focusing on O’Bannon’s personal life, instead of allowing me to research demographics, issues, and polling. Sending you to an NRA rally that you’d already declined to attend.”

“I think I’m starting to get the idea.”

Bijal worried if she’d already crossed a line. “Perhaps if you get a consensus before acting,” she proposed tactfully.

“Things aren’t going too smoothly, Bijal. I’m well aware of that. Did you see what happened this afternoon at my fund-raiser?”

“I may have heard a murmur or two.”

“And exactly how would you have me respond to this current embarrassment, if it were up to you?”

Bijal thought for a moment. “The public does appreciate accountability—it’s something they rarely see in politics or corporations. So, first, I’d have you contact the guy in red directly and apologize to him.”

“Make it a photo op, you mean?”

“No, because inviting the press immediately cheapens it and makes it seem contrived and insincere. I mean just you and him. Let him know that you’re genuinely sorry for your remark and that you don’t think he’s an asshole. If he continues to do interviews, he’ll likely share that you not only took responsibility for your comment, but that you were gracious and earnest about it.”

“That’s good.”

“And then I’d have you out talking to the media, not Donna. There’s nothing appealing about an employee publicly taking the heat for something her boss said or did.”

Janet was looking at Bijal through squinted eyes. “And what else would you have me do? How might we shift momentum?”

“Well…I think we’d stop ignoring the fact that you’re a moderate and talk about social issues, and we’d start painting O’Bannon as someone who is very far left of center. This is still a red state, and the people here are more conservative than not. We could easily build support among people who may not be comfortable with O’Bannon’s extreme liberal stances. Instead, we’re spending all our time doing damage control. You can’t score any points if you only play defense.”

Janet stared at Bijal intently, all the while her only visible moving body part seeming to be her thumbs.

“Have I said too much?” Bijal asked, suddenly aware of her pulse throbbing in her forehead. “Because I thought we were just sort of informally—”

“Impressive,” Janet interjected, stopping Bijal mentally in her tracks. “You clearly have a strong grasp of the issues and the way politics works in general.”

“Um, thanks.”

“And I do appreciate those things, Bijal, regardless of how things may sometimes seem.”

“I certainly don’t mean to question that.”

“I know. All your points have merit. Everything you’ve said makes sense. I’ll talk to Donna in the morning and we’ll discuss some of them. I’ll let you know what she says.”

“Okay.” Bijal wasn’t sure what Janet was telling her. Was she saying she intended to run her ideas by Donna? Who was really in charge here?

“And I’ll let her know that I think you’re far more valuable to this campaign working in the office than creeping around outside O’Bannon’s house.”

Bijal coughed nervously.

“So go on to the rally,” Janet said. “But I’ll expect you back in the office starting tomorrow.”

“I’m officially off spy detail?”

Janet scowled. “Well, not yet. Not until I can get Donna to agree. But it’s important that you’re here in the morning, especially since the head of the National Republican Congressional Committee is stopping by to see us for a strategy meeting. I’d like you to attend.”

“Charles Hammond is coming here?”

“Mmm-hmm, so make sure you have your game face on. I expect he’ll have some critical things to say, based on some of the setbacks we’ve encountered.”

“I’m honored, Janet. Thanks so much for this chance to prove myself.”

“You’re welcome. Just be ready to work your ass off.”

Bijal inwardly winced. If she had to work days and nights, she had no doubt that would be exactly the end result—no pun intended.

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