ALL IN: Race for the White House (27 page)

Through high gloss lips that were a perfect match for a hot pink scarf she wore, she asked, “What can we do for you today?”
 

I hadn’t heard a tone that condescending in years. I wasn’t used to being treated like that. The problem was she had an attitude like we couldn’t believe. I thought, how can something all wrong, be so perfect.

Lisa seemed a little uncomfortable too. Then, I remembered, with my Boston Cap and Ray-Bans, I’m as invisible as any other middle-aged guy would be to a girl her age.
 

As I was removing my sunglasses and cap, Lisa said sheepishly, “Do you have anything available now for a walk in?”

“
Right
now?” Over a look like you can’t be serious.

“Well, we’re on our lunch hour,” Lisa managed.

During the verbal exchange, I was scanning the salon for eye contact with
anyone
in charge.
 

A man came quickly over, “To what do we owe the pleasure today?”

The pink lips said, “I was telling them we have nothing avail…”

“Nonsense,” he said. Bumping her aside with his hip, he moved directly to the middle of the counter.
 

“I’m Jean-Claude; I’ll take it from here Daphne!” Shooting her an if looks could kill glance, he turned to us.

“Daphne does not realize she may have told the next President of the United States we can’t help him. That will never do!”
 

He clapped his hands in the air quickly saying to Daphne, “Get my station ready! I will take you myself, follow me.”

Jean-Claude was unfazed by the beauty and dismissed her out of hand. While an assistant was shampooing Lisa, Jean-Claude stood by telling me he was a big fan of the campaign and he wanted to volunteer.
 

Following Daphne’s movement around the salon as if I was on surveillance, I told him why we came to the mall and hinted he could help by shopping with Lisa if he was serious.
 

To my surprise, he said, “Sure, but first we must take care of this hair!”

Once the shampoo was finished, he walked Lisa over to an antique brass and white leather Barber Chair and sat her down in front of a large Victorian mirror. Turning to face only me, he mouthed the words, “Call 9-1-1.”
 

Jean-Claude gingerly told Lisa her grown out Bob Hairstyle was lifeless and the color drab. He emphasized the word
boring
making it into two distinct syllables. Lisa was engaged in what he was saying. He was
 
attentive and took his time exploring the structure of her face, giving her a lot of TLC. I stayed as long as I could to give moral support while they were deciding what to do. After about twenty minutes of expressively showing her pictures, waving his hands, and even threatening not to go shopping did he end up convincing her. The plan sounded a little drastic so I was careful to stay out of it in case of a less than desirable result.
 

While Jean-Claude was busy with Lisa, Daphne made her way over to me, “I’m Daphne Cole, Senator. I’m so embarrassed that I didn’t know who you were. Some of the girls filled me in.”

I told her, “You’re better off not to worry about politics,” and changed the subject. Motioning back toward Lisa, speaking under my breath, “Daphne, he’s getting a taste of how conservative she is. I was surprised she agreed to something so dramatic.”

I turned to Lisa and Jean-Claude, “You know the smell of perm solution and nail polish remover is beginning to gag me. I thought I could stay for the whole process, but I think it would be better if we set a time and place to meet. How about I head over to Barnes and Noble and meet you there whenever you’re done.”

“Are you sure, Jack?” Lisa asked.
 

“Absolutely this will be great,” I said.
 

Then I turned to Daphne, who was patiently waiting, “If you get a chance come down and join me for coffee.”

“I’ll try,” she said, “I get my break in about a half hour.”

“Okay then everybody’s all set.”
 

I looked into Daphne’s eyes, “Maybe I’ll see you in a few,” with that, I put on my sunglasses and Boston Cap and headed off.
 

When we met later, Lisa looked amazing. Jean-Claude had dressed her in a wild form-fitting animal print dress and matching spike heels. The print looked like Giraffe to me. The large dark and light shapes really showed off her figure. She had a cute shape under all those clothes - anyway, it was better than I thought. He had reshaped her hair, cutting it short in back with steep angles sloping down toward the front. He lightened the color and added chunky blonde highlights. Jean-Claude was also a talented makeup artist and did her eyes sort of like Daphne’s. The only difference, he told her was to use cocoas, copper, and violets instead of the charcoals to bring out her big brown eyes. When Lisa saw me, she dropped her bags, ran over, and hugged me like I’d saved her from drowning. We all picked up the bags. Lisa interlocked one arm in mine and one with Jean-Claude. We were all happy and I was smiling at her thinking I’d have our deal closed in no time. I was really glad for Lisa. Just then, Emma showed up.

CHAPTER THIRTY

In the morning drive to campaign headquarters, I was ignoring the phone buzzing, enjoying the solitude the scenery and the speed. The cherry blossoms were out and even the Jonquils in our garden were in bloom. An unusually mild February, it felt more like springtime in Washington. The day before, I had seen people out with shorts and T-shirts, reading on blankets, playing soccer and laying out in the sun.

The win in Florida had amplified a decisive nineteen-point victory in South Carolina. The talking heads and television pundits were now mostly in agreement; the writing was on the wall. The race would be Canon vs. Barker in the fall. Our team had a great time in Florida traveling around the state in two buses we’d leased from a friend of the campaign. The deal we worked out would have raised some eyebrows, so everything was packaged as a short-term arrangement on paper. The truth was—with us so far ahead—the buses had, for all intents and purposes, been given to us on loan. The press bus was basically a 48-seat tour bus with
Canon for President
wrapped over the body of it. The bus for senior staff was a $1.5 million traveling palace with coffered ceilings, marble floors, and granite counters. It had a big, semicircular couch and center low table that raised electrically from the floor. Walking through a small galley area to the rear of the coach was a private area where I could relax. The only problem we had in Florida was the mid-level staffers took up half of the seats on the press bus.
 

Regardless of how many times it rang, I made a pact with myself not to answer the phone while driving. There were two reasons: First, my spirits were buoyed from the wins and I figured a decent stress-free ride into work was my reward. Second, at the speed I was driving, it was only a matter of time before I caused an accident from looking away to text. So now my time in the car would be like when I was a kid ripping down the farm roads of Kentucky, only without the dirt trail cloud behind me. I pulled up to the parking garage and stopped briefly to say hi to the kid in the booth. His name was Johnny, and a couple of times a week when we weren’t on the road campaigning I’d stop and talk for a minute. He always had some question or comments, like ‘dude those women who work in your office are gorgeous, man. How do you get anything done?’ Another day he asked, ‘Hey, I was looking online, that’s not an ordinary car, is it some kind of aftermarket ride?’ I never knew what he would say or ask and today was no different.
 

“How yah doing, Johnny?”
 

“Good, man. Hey, that blonde woman drove in a few minutes ago. Is she seeing anyone?”

“I quipped back, “Why didn’t you ask
her
, Johnny?”
 

“I don’t think I could bring myself to talk to her,” he said.
 

“Come on, she’s a person like you. You can talk to her. When you find out, let me know. We don’t talk about things like that.”

“Oh, I understand. Sexual harassment and shit.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Hey, I wanted to ask you?”

“One more, John, then I gotta go.”

“How much does a senator make?”

I laughed back, “Not enough kid, see ya.”

The kid loves watching me burning rubber up the entry, and I didn’t disappoint him, pressing the throttle to the floor. I thought if the kid only knew what was really going on in Washington his young community college mind would be completely blown. Not to mention he could’ve easily found the information on the web. The real question he should have asked is why the governor of Florida spent two hundred million of his own money to get elected to a job that would pay him less than one percent of that for the
whole four years
. Turn over that rock, and he’ll have the story.
 

I pulled the car into my usual spot on the third level of the parking garage and reached over for my cell. Three texts, all from Lexi:
 

Jack when you get this please call me, Lexi.
 

A couple of questions for you, Lexi.
 

Have a big favor to ask, Lexi.
 

Sometimes I liked to sit in the car and answer texts or emails before heading up the elevator to the office. Lexi and I had become good friends, and I knew I could trust her. The relationship was symbiotic; we both gained from it. Her intense loyalty, partly came from her belief personally in what we were about and partly because I gave her first dibs on everything. She was our plant in the media and it had made her a big star with the network. Her bosses were enjoying her exclusives and the access, and while they didn’t verbalize it, were probably secretly hoping it would continue into the White House.
 

I texted Lexi:
I’ve got a minute if you can talk
.
 

I figured either she would call right back, or at least I get points for answering her text.
 

Almost as soon as I pressed send and the phone rang. It was Lexi.
 

“Hi Lexi, I got your texts, but I was driving.”
 

Hi, Jack, thanks for answering. I knew you’d get back to me when you got to the office.”

“Oh, I had a great ride in this morning; the weather feels like I should be sitting on my grandmother’s front porch drinking orangeade, not heading into work. What’s going on with you? What do you need?”

“Jack, everyone’s buzzing down here about Griffin. How did you get her to lie down like that in Florida?”

“Lexi, I could tell you, but it would have to be off the record.”

“That would be the story of the year. Everyone’s going to be digging.”

“Well, they are not going to get anything from her, and I’ll give you the exclusive on the condition that you wait to reveal until after Maine.”

“Why wait? She’s practically a cheerleader. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had a schoolgirl crush on you.”

“That would be funny, the Wicked Witch of the West. You can print that she definitely doesn’t have a crush. But anything else, you wait until you get the okay from me.”

“Jack, why would you make me wait, you could capitalize on a story like this while you’re in Maine.”
 

“Lexi, Maine is like my backyard. We have a home up there. I want to win the state so big. When you do report what I’ll give you, this race will be all over.”

“You know I want it, Jack, let me know the minute I can use it.”

“I’ll tell you now; it will be the day after we win Maine. Our buses are on their way right now, and will be joined by a third when they get there.”

“Why are you adding another bus?”

“One will be for staffers and the most favorable press, and the rear bus will be for other press. Bud and the gang will be up front with me.”

“Speaking of buses, Jack, I got quite the ribbing from the press core about the two hours I spent interviewing with you up front.”

“Why it was all innocent enough?”

“Jack, it was because of that Daphne chick you have working with the press. She stood right at the door to your bus after I went in and told everyone, ‘The senator is not to be disturbed.’”

I belly laughed and Lexi joined in, “You’ll have to get used to that, Miss Exclusive. I’ve heard the rumors. They’re pissed at you because Daphne’s job is to keep the interviews to fifteen minutes.”

In fact,
Daphne and I had a code worked out. She comes back and says the next appointment is ready. If I object, she
insists
we keep things moving so we can get to everyone, she knows to get rid of whomever I’m with.

Honestly, we could give a crap about getting to anyone; we only feed the good press. If I say nothing, then she waits another five minutes and it goes like that until I object.
 

“Lexi, her standing orders are - when you’re on the bus – no other press - everyone clears out.”

“That’s why everyone’s pissed off at me. Who is Daphne anyway? She is
so
intimidating. All the women hate her and the guys are going gaga and can’t stop talking about her. It’s like we’re all in Junior High again. She has a knack for making people feel like crap walking up to her.”

“Not you, Lexi.”

“Really, Jack? Do you want to know what it feels like for me approaching her?”

“I can’t believe you would even care Lexi.”

“Jack, it freaking feels like everyone has a copy of the latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition and is comparing me to it. Seeing her gets everyone off their game. The men—even some of the big time guys are tongue-tied talking to her—it’s sort of funny. On the bus, behind her back, it’s like a locker room, the testosterone, and male bravado, but when they get face to face with her, they melt.”

“How would you know what it’s like in a locker room?” I teased.