Georgia on my Mind {Part X}
The Republican Party stood strong behind the united ticket of Grant-Langston and the general election was well underway. Reston was relentless in his attacks and condescending attitude toward the pretty, spoiled, rich boy and the religious fanatic at his side. The news coverage of the day's campaigning played out over the multiple flat screens televisions mounted on the walls. "I never thought I would say this but I may have to shoot a Democrat," Abby lamented to Harrison late night in the campaign headquarters.
He nodded, "Who you telling…he about to get these hands; although the rhetoric about Sally is true," he quipped back before returning his attention to the policy paper in front of him.
"Do you think he can pull it off…go the distance. We are changing the game with the outreach, fundraising and strategy. It's noble…idealistic; but is it realistic or even practical?" she stops reviewing the itinerary for the upcoming campaign event.
He exhales, "I don't know and I am not sure it matters…to me anyways. My life almost ended before it really began and this is my second chance. I am better now than I ever was and when this over…win or lose not just me but you, Huck, Liv…hell even Grant will be better."
Abby studies him. Hmm, there is more to him than the avant garde fashion, charm and smoother than panty silk talk. "If you say so," she offers sarcastically rolling her eyes.
Harrison laughs, "You know you can't hide from me. Behind all that cynical, acerbic charm is a true believer; but I will keep that our secret," he winks before picking up where he left off with the documents before him.
She blushes, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
Governor Grant and his top advisors occupied the main table of the campaign plane listening soberly to the pollster's objective projections. No one was moving and most were barely breathing. "Let me get this straight…I am going to lose by less than 5,000 votes no matter what I do from now until Election Day. I am going to lose as a result of one county in Ohio…Defiance," he repeated her words back to the group staring in disbelief.
"I cannot make a prediction or a guarantee…I can only tell you the numbers," she repeated pushing her glasses back to their rightful place balanced on the bride of her nose.
Fitz stood, "Good to know," he moved around the table and stalked toward the back of the plane.
Stunned silent Cyrus, Verna, Hollis and Olivia waited for some unseen force to propel them forward or cause any reaction at all. "Well I don't know about the rest of y'all but this is not how I do business. I get returns and the evidence of my investment is all around us. Looks like the good 'ole boy is going to have to take the reins of this here operation," he declares.
"What are you talking about?" Verna asks.
"Hear me out…Fitz is the real deal…once in a generation…cleaner than fresh snow-right," he looks to Cyrus.
Cyrus nods, "He is…the Republican Kennedy…he can re-make the party and build a legacy that will last generations."
"The way I see it…what he doesn't know won't taint him. I got a guy…tech geek. Says he can fix the voting machines…no fuss-no muss. We just got to be all in…so Grant can serve the people."
Olivia snaps out of her stupor, "Are you insane? We don't do that…that is not who we are; it is definitely not who he is. Governor Grant made it clear…this campaign is above board. You want to learn the same lesson his ex-wife learned," she snaps fiercely.
Verna and Cyrus glance back and forth between the two combatants on opposite ends of the political abyss. "Look here little lady…what do you think your resume is going to look like if this thing goes south? You got a plan B?"
"Do you? Because last I checked you don't bounce back from treason and based on what I have seen of you in action I don't think you will do well in federal prison," she retorts.
Hollis' eyes never leave her face, "Why don't we see what the others think? Verna…Cyrus?"
Verna doesn't respond but Cyrus manages to find his voice, "Hollis…this is a one-time only conversation. Do not bring this up again. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he snaps. Olivia stands quickly pushing her chair out of her way before retreating to the back of the plane.
Fitz holds the phone to his ear. This is real. He was right…I cannot win. He was strong and I am weak. "Governor…Are you there? I am sorry to deliver this news over the phone but with the campaign," the officer trails off.
"No, uhm…do not apologize. Thank you for informing me so quickly. May I request a 48 hour gag order? I want to speak to my children in person and I am on the other side of the country," he explains.
"I will do my very best. You have my phone number. Please call with your estimated time of arrival and our department can coordinate with your staff. Again, I am sorry for your loss. The Grant family has served the state of California with distinction for decades."
"Thank you. I know he was tremendously proud to serve as the Senator of our home state. I need to begin arrangements but I will be in touch soon," he spins effortlessly. He stands to inform his team and is stopped by Olivia's rapid approach. Her face is contorted and her body language tense. She knows. He grabs her hand, "I know this throws our campaign schedule to hell but at this point it doesn't matter."
"What? Governor, what are you talking about," she squints in confusion.
"My father…he died…heart attack. Isn't that what you were coming to tell me?" he suggests.
Her hand covers her mouth and her eyes fill with sorrow, "No…I am so sorry. Tell me what you need?" she implores.
He squeezes her hand, "Right now I need Olivia Pope…my campaign Fixer. We need to inform the team and not let this derail what is left. I want to go out strong."
"It's handled," she strokes her thumb across his knuckles.
The funeral launched like a Republican cotillion; limo after limo arrived dropping off one political heavyweight after another. Prominent seating played like prized real estate and clearly established the pecking order for who was in the line of succession to the throne. Mellie spent the days leading up to this moment to develop a game plan that secured her political capital. She was the mother of two children grieving the loss of their grandfather. Fortunately for her neither the reporters nor the campaign could attack her; she could exploit the moment with her children at her side serving as get out jail free cards. When the dust settled she would be a permanent part of the Grant political legacy.
Fitz had given her strict instructions and she knew his team would enforce them away from the spotlight but the stakes were too high for them to respond with force in front of the cameras. She exited the car and was immediately greeted by a staffer. She fixed her features to reflect great grief and despair, "Please take me to my children. Our family needs to be together at a time like this," she raises a neatly pressed handkerchief to the corner of her right eye. Her conservative black suit and southern belle hat struck the perfect balance of strength in the face of adversity.
"This way Ms. Vaughn," the young man gestures toward the back of the church leading her down the open corridor. She bristles at the use of her maiden name. Patience.
They reach the office and he opens the door. Everyone in attendance turns at the intrusion. Time to perform. "Gerry and Karen," she rushes toward them with outstretched arms, "I am here for you as long as you need. We are a family and we will get through this together…leaning on each other," she sniffles.
Karen takes a step back and Gerry keeps his arms at his sides. The adults in the room either roll their eyes or shake their heads. She moves towards Fitz seated at a desk reviewing the eulogy before it is loaded into the teleprompter. He looks over and then up when she places her hand on his arm, "Fitz, I know how difficult this is ordeal is for you. Let me know what you need. I can review the eulogy or greet guests. Let me provide the support you need."
"I need you to follow the guidelines and instructions for today's event," he removes her hand. The agreement she received was clear. She would not be part of the procession, her seat was on the second row outside the main camera angle and her statements to the press were limited to: I am here to support my children and Senator Grant served the state of California with distinction. "Gerry, Karen what support do you need from me? I am sure you would appreciate my comfort during the service," she attempts to leverage her advantage.
"I'm good," Gerry shrugs pulling at his shirt collar.
"Me too," Karen responds moving closer to her father.
Olivia anticipated her play, "Prentiss, please escort Ms. Vaughn into the sanctuary and her assigned seat." She steps away from the corner behind the desk were Fitz was seated, "Mellie would you like a bottle of water while you wait?" she offers with a 'don't try me' smile.
"You are too kind…please, fetch me a water," she banters back.
Olivia doesn't blink…her eyes never leave Mellie's face, "Prentiss," she responds sharply.
He hands Mellie a bottle of water, "This way Ms. Vaughn," he gestures to a side door.
Olivia finds him in the backyard chopping wood still in his suit. He had removed the jacket and loosened his collar. He is barely holding it together. She steps up and onto the stump…reaching for him. Fitz's shoulders slump and he comes apart safe in her arms…his face buried within her chest. He releases ever broken piece because she sees him…she knows who is and she loves him. In spite of his faults and weaknesses or maybe because of them she loves him on purpose.
Once his mournful cries wane to limited hiccups she leads him into the house, up the back stairs and into his room. He falls onto the bed resting his forearms on his thighs, "I want this…I want this more than ever. He was wrong…I can win this the right way," his keeps his eyes downcast as he continues to think aloud. Liv kneels before him removing his tie and his shoes. She gestures for him to recline. He looks up and her once he is flat on his back, "You believe in me right? You are all I need. Have I earned your vote?" his voice is desperate and his eyes are pleading.
She sits next to him on the bed. Her rights hand rakes through his curls before she leans down and places a healing, tender kiss to his forehead, "I repeat…I will eat, sleep and breathe Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III; but yes…you have earned my vote. Now get some rest…we have a lot of work to do." He offers a soft smile as his red watery eyes close. He will be the next president even if it takes my last breath.