Carolyn tried to conceal the frustration she felt.
“Besides, we’re talking about my money, money given specifically to put Warner in the White House. We aren’t using it for any other purpose, it’s still going to the appropriate cause. Hiring investigators is a necessary expense. Don’t kid yourself – the other candidates are doing exactly the same thing.”
Mark paused. “I guess.”
“Are we talking about the money? I get the feeling something else is troubling you.”
“Of course, we are.” he answered abruptly. “What else would I be talking about?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me.”
Carolyn heard Mark sigh. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far.
“You need some totals, don’t you?” His voice sounded flat. “I’ll crunch the numbers, then courier the paperwork over to you. You can decide if you want to keep the funds in checking accounts or put them into short-term investments.”
“Thank you.” Not wanting to end on a bad note, she softened her voice. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you’ve been?”
“Carolyn, don’t do this… I’m sorry… Thank you for the compliment.”
Perplexed, Carolyn reluctantly re-cradled the receiver. His distorted sense of concern confused her. He’d talked in circles, as if the topic they were discussing wasn’t what worried him. Did he have another agenda? Did he have a guilty conscience? She dismissed the thought as ridiculous.
Associated Press
January 22, 2000 Young Withdraws from Primaries
WASHINGTON- Senator Richard Young announced today that he would not be running in the presidential primaries in order to devote full attention to his son’s recovery. Although the primaries have not officially begun, Young was considered the front-runner for the party nomination. The driver of the hit-and-run vehicle that injured his son has not been located. She is still wanted by the police for questioning.
THIRTY-FIVE
Ernie Weiland met Warner as he walked out of his dressing room and handed him the newspaper. “We have a meeting in fifteen minutes with Carolyn and the rest of the inner circle. So you’d better hurry.”
Warner said nothing. He felt like a trained seal. He kept waiting for the moment when Carolyn would demand that he spin a ball on his nose.
At one point, it seemed as if their relationship had moved to a place of truce that included trust and respect. He lived his life, she lived hers. Their mutual dream of the White House their bond. Now, instead of a bond between them, he felt bound to her.
No matter how hard he tried, she demanded more of him. She reminded him of Edmund. No, he silently amended, recently she’d become far more controlling than Edmund.
With the presidential campaign in full swing, she surrounded him by people to manage his image. Or was it to monitor his behavior?
He grudgingly admitted that Carolyn had put together a brilliant election team. Due to her competence, the Council found no need to influence her choices.
Matt Carson was terrific at manipulating a story with the press in order to slant it in their favor. Like Warner, he was a master of semantics. Warner liked him as a person. He was a superior point man, who could easily assimilate himself into any situation. As the primaries drew closer. Matt set up the infrastructure of the campaign machines in each state. Warner felt certain that he could trust Matt, and with trust came the prospect of a little rest and relaxation.
He glanced at Ernie, who was also quick on his feet. With his facile mind and command of the verbal style necessary to be persuasive no matter the venue, he often articulated winning arguments for the Lane position.
When they were on the road, he and Ernie shared a suite. Back at home. Carolyn had given Ernie a room in their residence. Was that to keep him informed? Warner wondered as he browsed through the headlines of the paper, or to keep him on a short leash? Warner mentally shrugged. He was comfortable with Ernie, and that made dealing with Carolyn easier to manage.
But Nick, he realized, was turning out to be the star of the campaign staff. Nick dissected situations, located the targets, and implemented action. Ambitious by nature, he was a sponge for every shred of information that came his way, and every detail that would put them ahead in the polls.
As an aide on the Hill, Nick had learned to locate the centers of power. He was like a baseball player who knew all of the pitchers: their strategies, their best pitches, and what they were likely to throw at you when you stepped to the plate. He memorized the specialty of every reporter. He anticipated their questions and grasped their prejudices.
“Objective reporting only exists in fantasyland.” Nick once told Warner. “Most reporters don’t do their own research and investigation. They’re a complacent bunch, staying at the same lush hotels, falling prey to the trap of group think, and more than willing to let someone interpret information for them. We just have to be out there to do the interpreting I’ll let you know when we run across a real reporter”- Nick had paused, his gaze locking with Warner’s-“like your hometown buddy, Rudly. Then you can’t be blindsided. Fortunately, though, the Rudlys of the world are few and far between.” Nick knew his stuff, and Warner felt well guarded by his guidance. He intended to take Nick to the White House.
Warner glanced over at Ernie, who sat in a chair next to the window, reading a newspaper and drinking orange juice. Warner felt he never had a minute alone any longer. He was supposed to please Edmund. Please Carolyn. Please the people – well, fuck them all.
Granted, he could play the role, but he refused to buy into the bullshit. Everyone was out for himself. Their greedy agendas rested on his success and sucked the life out of him. Carolyn was the worst of them all. She thought she ran his campaign. Well, he had a surprise for her. A big, fat, juicy payback of a surprise.
Warner poured himself a glass of orange juice. Damn, he needed to snap out of this funk. Pump himself up. This was his year. The victory and the glory were going to be his, and he needed to keep that in focus.
What he needed was a drink, something to take the edge off the stress. He drank half of the juice, then headed into the bathroom, glass in hand.
Ernie remained submerged in the morning paper.
Warner opened the cabinet door and pulled out his flask. He poured a jigger of Jack Daniels into his orange juice and drank it down. He eyed the empty cup, then refilled it with the whiskey. He tossed it back with a grimace, rinsed out the glass, and rejoined Ernie in the sitting room.
“Let’s go,” Warner said as he shrugged into his suit jacket, popping two mints into his mouth.
The meeting had already started when Warner and Ernie walked in. Matt, Nick, and Carolyn were all sitting around the conference table in the basement of their home.
“Nick, where are you with the new economic plan?” Carolyn asked as Warner and Ernie took their seats.
“Almost finished. My staffs working on it even as we speak.”
“How about the press? I know they’ve been quizzing us on the details.”
“Handled. I released a statement this morning saying we’d have the entire document to them in two weeks.” Nick shuffled some papers. “And here’s your speech on the war on drugs you asked me to review. I edited it last night. Go over it one more time, fine-tune it for your style. You don’t need it until the Women in Politics caucus tomorrow, right?” He handed the loose pages to Carolyn.