Georgia on my Mind {Part XIV}
Olivia opens her front door dressed in black leggings and a tank covered by a grey hug-me cardigan and bare feet. Her toes sparkle in Bordeaux red. Harrison and Fitz coincidentally dressed in dark jeans, Henley shirts and pea coats enter holding folders soothing their minor hangovers with caffeine magic insulated in paper cups. They take their seats as Abby shuffles into the room. Her Georgetown t-shirt paired with oversized sweats; her feet covered in blue socks and her eyes hidden behind dark glasses. "Why is the room so bright and why is everyone breathing so loud?" she grumbles.
"Abby, fresh coffee in the kitchen…drink it all," Liv directs.
Fitz and Harrison eyes inventory the room: empty bottles, knocked over wine glasses and half a bowl of popcorn. The party didn't end once they left the venue. Once the group settled Harrison kicks of the strategy session. "So I have the Finance Chair's report. We are only five million short of our previous total since we turned over the Doyle donation to the Federal Election Commission through the California FBI headquarters. The check from the Grand Dame of Virginia was a shock to say the least."
"Consider her donation ransom to make sure she never has to spend another moment with Malevolent Mellie," Fitz quips. They all laugh. "I will have the remainder of funds transferred today," he offers casually.
"No…you cannot be Grant for the People if you keep reminding them you are part of the one percent," Olivia argues. Why is he so damn stubborn?
"I disagree…I think it demonstrates that I am invested in this country," he volleys back. Why is she so damn stubborn?
Abby returns to the room gulping coffee from a mug so large she uses both hands. She grabs the seat on the couch next to Harrison. "Have they forgotten we are in the room?"
"Oh yeah, this is pay-per-view, heavy weight championship battle royale," he replies shaking his head. Ten minutes into their battle he stands moving in front of the fire place spinning his phone. He raises his voice, "I have another option," he waits for recognition. Their heads snap toward him with raised brows. "The GOP is the party of Lincoln…he fought a Civil War to hold the union together, signed the Emancipation Proclamation and built the trans-continental railroad-correct?"
"You think I don't know the history of my party…Why are you giving a U.S. history lecture?" they mock simultaneously.
"How do the people," he uses air quotes, "Travel in this country?" He waits to allow their brilliant minds to catch up. "Planes, trains and buses…why don't we do the same; we cut costs and automatically create campaign events, local coverage," he doesn't get to finish.
"The campaign presence brings the spotlight to airports, bridges, and the possibility of high speed rail. You can discuss jobs which every local, state and national elected official has to support regardless of party," Abby joins the argument.
Harrison uses his phone to point at her, "Exactly."
"The logistics would be a nightmare…Security…I have Secret Service now," Olivia and Fitz remain reluctant.
Harrison decides to take the money shot, "Ask me how many jobs would be created in Defiance, Ohio, how many shuttered factories would re-open in the state; the projected boost to their economy?" he dazzles the room with a smile. The realization takes the room by storm. Each occupant grabs their phone making calls and setting things in motion. His chest fills with pride. No more insider tricks.
Billy slides out of bed determined not to disrupt Amanda's sleep. He looks down on her after pulling on his black boxer briefs. At least I don't have to work for sex. He makes his way to retrieve the USA Today in front of the hotel door. He sits in the first open chair. The headline above the fold 'Money Ball' is accompanied by a standard candidate photo of Grant and Langston from the dais. He skims the fluff piece article flipping to the interior page which included candid shots from the event: smiling staffers, RNC big shots, members of the Congress and Senate. His eyes linger on the photo of the former Mrs. Grant and the deep pocket Virginia Matriarch Margaret Shelby. What is the truth behind that odd couple? His musing is broken by her voice, "Why didn't you wake me?"
He smiles, "You needed your sleep. We had a busy night."
Amanda attempts to join him but to her disappointment he gestures toward the available seating in the room. "I thought we had a good time," she suggests optimistically.
"The evening was fine…after all these years the chicken tastes the same and the conversations are just as bland. The bottom line is did we get the cash," he replies without looking up from behind the news print.
Her lips squeeze together in a tight line, "I meant our time together," her voice reflects her disappointment with his lack of connection.
Suck it up Chambers…this is for the White House. He lowers the paper folding the pages before placing it in his lap. "Why don't we get out of here and enjoy the day?" he offers with a killer smile.
Her smile brightens, "What did you have in mind?"
"Let's do all the tourist traps we will not be able to enjoy after we win the election. How does that sound?"
"Perfect…I am going to get ready. Breakfast out?" she moves toward her luggage.
"Sure, sounds like fun," he replies rolling his eyes.
Two weeks later
"I cannot vote yet so I need your help. My name is Karen Grant," the crowd cheers wildly. "My dad wants to be the next President of the United States. I do not know a lot about politicians but I am learning. I do know what makes a great dad and he is an amazing dad. He doesn't always get it right the first time but he never stops trying. He loves unconditionally, he believes in you even if you don't completely believe in yourself and he will never leave anyone behind. He will move heaven and earth to give you everything you need and almost everything you want. If you give him a chance…if you knock on doors; make phone calls; and pull the lever next to his name he will create jobs and fix all the things that are broken in our country or die trying. So please, help me…help him…vote for Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III," she projects into the microphone. The crowd chants at ear piercing levels. She steps down off the short stool and from behind the podium. Her delicate lace tank is covered by a crisp, cropped red modern styled blazer paired with dark denim skinny jeans and red, stretchy pointed toe two-inch ankle boots.
Fitz watches from the wings with misty eyes. His little girl wows the crowd and gives him a shot of confidence that cannot be duplicated. Cyrus nods along with her speech. "She is political gold…I do not know what we didn't use her sooner. We need to capitalize on her innocence. She is untouchable…she could easily sell the opposition research on Reston," he whispers in Fitz's ear.
His head snaps to his soon to be former campaign manager with ice daggers replacing his kind eyes, "If you go anywhere near my little girl with your vile political tricks…I…will… end…your…life," he spews.
Cyrus' heart almost stops, "I apologize…I got carried away…the power goes to my head. Forgive me, I know the boundaries," he stammers.
"Clearly you do not," he is interrupted by his Princess.
"Hey, old man…you're up…try and top that" she challenges with a bright smile.
Fitz removes his scowl turning to face her, "We all know I can't but I will do my best to keep up," he embraces her and kisses her forehead.
"True," she laughs. "I'm off to help register new voters with the young Republicans," she informs.
Once she is out of earshot he pivots back to his temporary campaign manager, "Cyrus, make time to see me at the end of the week," he directs before taking the stage to the crowd chanting: Grant! Grant! Grant!
The enthusiasm from the Virginia campaign event lingers in the breeze. Grant-Langston staff busied themselves breaking down structures, loading buses, checking out of hotels and preparing for the next stop. Abby enters Fitz's temporary office, "Governor, Olivia is tied up but I here to staff you for the candidate meetings," she explains entering the office.
"Thanks Abby," he responds, "I do not know any of these candidates," he hands her a list.
She reads down the list of names and brief biographies before freezing. Her heart races, stress sweat runs down her back; and her mind misfires. Her voice wavers, "Trust your gut sir…you need to rely on their vote for the infrastructure bill in the first one hundred days and immigration legislation before the midterms," she advises.
He nods, "Smart…I will keep my questions focused on my agenda. You are staying for the interviews-right?"
Abby moves on auto-pilot to a chair in the farthest corner of the room, "I am on the job." You can do this…you are a professional. I will not let Charles taint my new life.
"Mellie, thank you for taking my call…I wanted to speak with you during the fundraiser but things were hectic. How are you?" Billy attempts to charm.
"Save the crap Chambers…you left me hanging and I never forget and I always hold a grudge," she spits.
"Fair enough…but you know politics is a game of leverage. I pushed as far as I could with Sally but at the end of the day I do what I need to keep my seat at the table. Similar to you getting a seat at the fundraiser; what's your play…maybe I can help," he suggests. I want to know what she knows.
"Sure…get me on the short list for Congressional candidates for Virginia," she requests. He's a weasel…might as well work it to my advantage.
"I can suggest your candidacy during a staff meeting or work the idea into my briefing with Sally," he dangles low risk cooperation.
She laughs bitterly, "I know you are on the junior varsity team but I am varsity…public list…discussed among the beltway pundits and traveling press pool. Secure tactic acceptance or neutrality from the campaign. You make that happen and I can make you part of the real big kids table," she disconnects quickly.
Billy stares at the phone. What is the real big kids table?
Olivia enters Fitz's office as he packs up for the evening, "How did the candidate meet and greets go?"
He shrugs, "They were all lackluster at best. We can get votes we need from anyone on the list. Cyrus has the pollsters calculating favorable/unfavorable data for each to help with the decision," he hands her a folder with the list attached by a paper clip.
She scans the list only marginally invested in the information. She reaches the third name and her heart stutters and her breathing stops. "Where is Abby?" she asks with alarm.
Fitz's head looks up from his desk, "I am not sure…she left after the sessions were over."
"Abby was in the room?" she exclaims.
"What's wrong?" he asks with concern.
Olivia runs from the room in search of her best friend. No…no…no…hang on…over a cliff.