Hello everybody!

This is the 6th chapter of "My Treasure". Like the last chapter, it will mainly focus on Jeanette. Her Backstory will continue to develop here. A decision she will make next chapter will only make sense if you read this one.

Disclaimer: a character will be introduced in this chapter that uses bad language. I'm not above making the chipmunks cuss when the situation may call for it, but this character will be a little more excessive. If you are not thirteen or above, please do not read this chapter.

I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 6: Time for Some Campaigning (Part 2)

Simon spun the laptop around so that the screen was facing her. "These are the latest polls and projections." He allowed Jeanette some time to look them over before continuing, "Politico has you down on average by thirty-one point two points… New York Times has Martin over you sixty-five to thirty one. Monmouth has him at sixty-six with you at thirty-three. You have one good outlier from YouGov that has you at fourty with him at fifty-eight."

Jeanette sighed and sat back at her chair. What would I advise myself to do if I were my own manager? she thought to herself.

"I've reached out to the Martin campaign about setting up a debate between the two of you," Simon murmured to her. "And… no response."

She shook her head. "There wouldn't be. There's no reason for him to debate right now, being up by so much. He has everything to lose and nothing to gain by debating. If I were his manager I would forbid him from getting on that stage… or honestly any stage at all."

"Well his strategy thus far seems to confirm that," Simon said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and turning the laptop back towards him. He typed into the keyboard, scrolled, clicked, and rotated back towards the middle chipette so she could see. "This is one of the attack ads that they have produced… against you."

Simon played the video.

The video faded from black into a greyscale clip of Gary Martin walking confidently down a sidewalk in a nice suit. "I'm Gary Martin and I approve this message," came the Senator's voice in the background. His voice was quickly replaced with that of a concerned-sounding woman as stock videos and images of Jeanette took over the screen. "Immoral wealth," they were flashed a picture of Jeanette's house. "Lack of commitment," a picture, of all people, of Ian Hawke. "Irresponsibility," a newspaper article about their entire family falling overboard during their infamous cruise years ago. "Promiscuity," several pictures and videos flashing, first of her Simon, followed by her and Alvin, followed by her and Theodore, then her and several of the politicians she had worked for as campaign manager. "Victim blamer," a screen shot of her reply to Gary Martin's post, with news casters' and Podcasters' faded voices criticizing her in the background. "Are these the qualities California wants in their Senator?" the woman's voice continued. what followed was a Mashup of political pundits doubting her ability to vote on policy, to communicate her message, and to win. Finally, Gary Martin came onto the screen in a different suit than before with a stone-cold but suave look in his eye. "California doesn't need a pop star representing it in Washington," he said. "Vote Gary Martin for Senate this November." The screen faded to black.

Jeanette gritted her teeth. "That was pretty standard. But effective."

"It's been absolutely flooded onto every single website and app that you could think of," Simon said, nodding. "Look at this. I go to Youtube… click on a clip from my kids' show… and… boom!"

The ad that came up after selecting the "Science 'Munk" clip was indeed that same ad. And it was unskippable.

"I get it," Jeanette said in frustration.

"That's the other thing," her husband let out hesitantly. "It's the funding. Martin's campaign right now is out-spending us almost four to one. Our ads just aren't reaching nearly as many people as his are. What we are doing right now just simply isn't going to be enough if you want to win."

Jeanette nodded, rubbing her temple in deep thought. "OK, we can combine our pursuit for more money for the campaign with more excitement. I need you to call up every PAC in existence that may be interested in donating, and also call your brothers to try to get a public endorsement from either of them. I'll do the same with my sisters, and I will also get in contact with as many wealthy investors and donors that I can. Hopefully my connections I got from being a manager pay off here. And both of us need to look through our old contact cards and find every single person, even mildly famous person, that we've maybe bumped into at a party or… whatever, and we need endorsements from them too."

Simon gulped down, knowing he had a lot of work to do. But he agreed.

Jeanette immediately retired to her office and began punching numbers into her cellphone. She figured she would go in order of most likely to donate to least likely, attempting to start a domino effect. Therefore, the first number she called was that of Richard Morrow, or Dick, as he liked to be called. He was one of the founders and pioneers of many of California's data centers and he was only increasing his wealth in recent years with the explosion of AI. He had donated to literally every single campaign that Jeanette had ever managed, regardless of party. Jeanette suspected it was because he had a thing for her, which was revolting for her to think about being that he was twice her age. But she was perfectly willing to exploit it for a donation of his normal amount.

The phone rang three times, followed by a click. "Jeannie!" came his old, sly, raspy voice. "How are you?"

"Dick!" She forced a smile as if he could see her. "Things are good! Definitely looking up from a couple of weeks ago."

"So… what can I do ya for?"

Jeanette bit her lip. She cringed at that saying coming from anyone, but especially an old man speaking to her. "Well I'm glad you asked," she said, managing to shake off her disgust, "because I am on the precipice of a break through with the voters, with twenty effective ads ready to be released and an event tour schedule written up, and-"

"Woah, I'm going to have to stop ya right there Jeannie," Morrow interrupted her. "I appreciate the sales pitch and all… you know, for old time's sake, but I'm really not in a position to contribute to your campaign right now."

Jeanette was taken aback by this. She giggled as if attempting to shrug this off as a bad joke. "Oh come on, Dick, 'I'm not in a position right now,'" she grumbled in a poorly mimicking voice, "I doubt that. Looks like AI has you doing better for yourself than ever."

"Well… it's not really about the money, Jeannie. It's just that… well… you don't seem to be having much of a coalition building around you right now and I just can't see my investment being worthwhile."

"Worthwhile?" Jeanette repeated, still in shock.

"Yeah. I just don't see a path to victory for you at all. I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you were hoping to hear."

Jeanette sat there in stunned silence, pondering how she could convince this old man to reconsider giving her his hard-earned money.

"Listen," he broke the silence, "I'm guessing I'm the first one you called, because you know I like you. And I really do like you. So please, even though I can't help you out financially, please take my advice. I'm not the only one that feels this way about your campaign. A lot of the other guys and I talked about it and we all agreed. You might want to think about pulling out. Ok? I'm trying to help you here."

Jeanette had had enough of him. After a brief pause she said, "thank you Richard," then promptly hung up. She bit her lip with her canine tooth, discouraged, tapping her foot on the floor. "Well," she muttered to herself after a moment, "next man up."

And so she continued this act of calling up old acquaintances and brief contacts, giving them the same persistent pitch. "The time is now to act to save this state," she would say. Only to inevitably be shot down in heartbreaking fashion by "I just don't see how you could win," or, at best, something along the lines of "I'm not saying no, I just don't think now is the right time for your campaign to spend a lot of money." This went on for a painful four and a half hours, with not a single donor for Jeanette to show for it. She buried her head into her palms, completely exhausted and drained of motivation.

Suddenly, she remembered her fail safe. She could call her sisters. If nothing else, she desperately needed someone to give her emotional support in that moment.

Suddenly rejuvenated, she picked up her phone and dialed Eleanor's number. It rang only twice before the youngest chipette answered, "Hello?"

"Ellie! It's me! Jean!"

"Hey Jean! How are you? I haven't seen you in… God in ages."

Just hearing her sister's voice was such a boost of morale, it put a giant smile on Jeanette's face. "I'm awesome!" she lied. "Super good! Me and Simon are still fantastic, and the campaign is really picking up steam!"

"That's great to hear, Jean," Eleanor said, sounding reserved but genuinely happy for her big sister.

"I'm sorry I haven't come to visit you in so long," Jeanette apologized, "it's just that we've been so busy here with Simon's show and my work, and now with me running for office."

"No! Don't be sorry! Our schedule's been insane too the last couple years. The WFA literally never let's me rest and the camera crews are always around for Theo's show."

Jeanette giggled, wholeheartedly enjoying this catching-up that she was taking part in. Then, she remembered the main reason that she called. "Say, Ellie, if it's not too much to ask, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind making a public statement. You know, supporting me… and… my campaign?"

There was a long pause with Eleanor clearly trying to come up with the right words. "Jeanette, you know I love and support you…"

"But?" Jeanette asked in a poignant manner.

"But, I am the owner and CEO of a major sports league. And our stock has already dropped a ridiculous amount ever since this whole drama between you and that Senator went down. I can't afford to take sides in politics. It'd be bad for my image and the league's image. And think of the players! The vast majority of them disagree with you Jeannie, plain and simple. I can't risk the avalanche that coming out publically for you could cause."

"You're my sister!" Jeanette argued, her heart sinking farther and farther by the second. "Surely everyone would understand if you came out in support of your own sister. If you won't even say a few words to defend me… who will?"

"I'm sorry. I just can't risk it. I have to remain neutral."

Jeanette took a deep breath and responded, "okay. That's okay. I understand. I still love you, and we should definitely meet up sometime for lunch."

"I'd love that. I really would. I hate the fact that we haven't been face to face for almost two years."

"Me too," Jeanette said to her little sister, holding back tears as best she could. "Okay I have to get going now. I love you."

The only response was a half-hearted, apologetic "bye."

The middle chipette hung up the phone, bursting into a hysterical crying fit as soon as she had. She felt so hopelessly alone. Why was nobody, not a single person who had previously jumped through hoops to support the people she worked for, willing to give her the time of day? Was she really that bad at this? At getting people to believe in her? If her own sister couldn't even stand up for her then who would?

Perhaps by chance or perhaps because he overheard his wife having a meltdown, Simon entered her office without knocking. She instinctively began wiping away her tears without looking at him. He frowned down at her, trudged hesitantly until he was directly behind her chair, wrapped her from behind in a warm hug.

"Please tell me you've had luck," the disparaged chipette whimpered.

"No," he said, "even Theo said no. Didn't want to risk his show."

This almost made Jeanette laugh through her crying.

"Alvin gave me a maybe but he didn't seem to like the idea at all."

She nodded, damn near out of hope. "I still have to call Brittany."

XXXXX

Laney sat in her living room, remaining blissfully unaware of the conversation that was transpiring not even ten feet away from her, forcing her toy truck to run over a miniature "Elsa" doll from frozen.

"We have to do it," Brittany forcefully argued with her husband.

Alvin gritted his teeth, regretting even bringing up the issue with the eldest chipette. "I don't think it's a good idea. I could get in real trouble at work."

She slapped her forehead. "I don't even know you anymore. 'I could get in trouble at work,'" she said, mimicking him in a feminine tone. "That's not the 'munk I married. Since when have you given a damn about getting in trouble."

"You have to listen to me! I haven't been producing at work as much as I should. I'm two months in and I'm already on thin ice."

"Jeanette's family, Alvin. We are doing whatever she needs us to."

Suddenly, Brittany's phone began reading. "It's her, Jeanette," she said, causing Alvin to fold his arms across his chest in frustration.

Brittany accepted the call and put it on speaker phone. "Hey Jeanette."

"Brittany! Hi! I hope this isn't a bad time."

"No, not at all."

"You're sure I'm not bothering you?"

"I'm sure," the eldest chipette insisted, "we really don't have anything going on here."

"That's good. We'll, not GOOD but… you know what I mean. Anyways… how's Laney?"

"Oh, she's great! She's beginning to learn how to read!" Brittany turned the phone towards her daughter and said, "say hi to Auntie Jeanette, Laney."

Laney looked up from her toy truck, looked at the phone, looked at her mother, back to the phone and said, "meow."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "She likes to pretend she's a cat. When other people are around."

"Aw, that's so cute! And what about Alvin? How's his new job?"

Despite not being face to face with her younger sister, Brittany locked eyes with Alvin, who grimaced in return. She widened her eyes and forced a great big smile. "Sounds like it's going great so far. His boss said he's got a bright future as a talent scout."

"That makes me so happy to hear." There was a brief, but awkward pause. Brittany could tell her sister was considering how to smoothly change the subject. "Listen, Brit, I'd understand if you can't do it, but I would really appreciate it if-"

"Woah, woah, Jeanette," Brittany interrupted, "you don't have to give me the whole sales pitch. Save that for somebody else. I've already talked it out with Alvin." This caused the oldest chipmunk to roll his eyes. "Of course we'll do it. I'd do anything to support you."

"You will?" Jeanette could not contain her elation in the slightest. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Brittany could hear Jeanette squeal from excitement through the phone. "Thank you so much Brit! You have no idea how much this means to me, especially right now."

"Of course," Brittany insisted. "We're sisters. I would die for you."

"I love you Brittany! Look, I gotta get going, but I won't forget this! I'll have Simon email you guys the details. Ok? Ok! Love you again! Bye!"

And with that, the phone disconnected. Brittany let a smile creep across her face, which was soon wiped off when she noticed Alvin standing nearby, arms still crossed, looking disgruntled and brushed aside.

"I guess my opinion just doesn't mean a thing around here anymore, huh?" he said, glaring at his wife.

"Alvin, please," she protested in response. "Let's not talk about this in front of Laney."

Their daughter peeked her head up from her game, curious about why her name had just been mentioned. "Meow?"

XXXXX

Simon and Jeanette exchanged excited glances. Finally, something had gone right. As if one cue, Jeanette's phone buzzed from a notification. It was a Twitter alert that read "BREAKING: GARY MARTIN ACCUSED OF SEXUAL ASSAULT".

Jeanette's eyes widened. She tapped the notification faster than she had ever tapped on any notification in her life. Her phone took her to an article by the LA Times of the same name. Jeanette read aloud: "California Senator Gary Martin has suddenly been thrust into the heat of controversy amidst his campaign for re-election, as not one but two former staffers have spoken out against the Senator in the last twelve hours. Sources claim they have accused the Senator of getting drunk at multiple staff parties and inappropriately touching them against their will. Their names are Jennifer Alstott and Maia Shapiro, and they have so far declined requests for comment."

"God," Simon said in disbelief.

"Does it really surprise you?" Jeanette asked him. "That man is a pig." She trailed off in deep thought. "We have to get ahead of this."

"I'll start drafting a press statement," Simon told her, nodding as he walked away.

Jeanette sat there after Simon had left her office, rocking back and forth in her chair that was not designed to rock. She had a very calculating grin on her face. This is how we get him, she thought to herself. I am going to hammer that disgusting, cow-faced man into the god damned dirt.

XXXXX

Three days later, Jeanette sat across the table from Ray McGovern, the head of the California Republican Party, in his office. Simon was standing behind her left shoulder. His desk/table was made of cheap wood that had thin legs that looked as though they could barely supported the desktop computer, the LAN phone, the pad of lined paper, and the two ball point pens that sat on top of it. Out the window was a view of a construction site where they were building section 8 apartments.

"I am sorry," he insisted to them, "but we have already exhausted every dime of donor money that we can to other campaigns. Yours just isn't feasibly competitive."

Jeanette shook her head in disbelief. "Our poll numbers may not have come up as much as we would have liked after Martin's sexual assault charges," she said, "but his have dropped significantly."

"Politico has him polling all the way down in the lower forties," Simon chimed in.

"He's vulnerable!" Jeanette continued. "You have to see that! This could be a chance for you to flip a Senate seat! Think about what that could do for your career."

McGovern, a stout, plump, balding man with thin grey hairs around the side of his head, sighed at the chipmunk and chipette across from him. He was contemplating how to politely get rid of the two of them.

Suddenly, his desktop phone rang. He answered it by pressing a button, then leaned towards it. "Not now, Julia," he scolded the woman on the other end. "I'm in a meeting."

"Sir, Mitch Ryan is on his way to see you."

McGoverns eyes widened, looking like he had just seen a ghost. "Mitch Ryan? When's he due?"

As if one cue, the door to the office behind the chipmunks flung open with a startling thud. "Now," exclaimed, in a thick louisiana accent, a tall, thin, pale, curly haired man in his middle ages. "And don't say you weren't prepared, because I rang ahead."

"Hi, Mitch," McGovern said to him nervously. "Jeanette, Simon, this is Mitch Ryan. I am going to go ahead and apologize in advance."

"Don't apologize for me, apologize for yourself," Mitch said to him indignantly. "Now give us the room, will you please Ray?"

McGovern obediently stood up from his chair in a rushed manner and began shuffling towards the door.

Mitch turned his attention towards the two chipmunks, who were staring at him with unsure looks on their faces. "Let me tell you, if there's one thing I love more than anything in this world, it's a campaign that is so fucking incompetent that it gets gifted two disgruntled whores complaining to the press about their opponent and yet it still finds itself behind by twelve fucking points."

"I'm sorry," Jeanette raised an eyebrow up at him inquisitively, "who are you exactly?"

"Right," he said, mockingly slapping his chest as if he had forgotten his manners. "How rude of me. Well let me tell you a little about myself. I am both your wildest wet dreams and your worst nightmare. I am the man they send in when a winnable campaign starts to look unwinnable. You understand? I am the fucking grim reaper. Now that I am here you will both do exactly as I say, when I say it. I own you."

Simon and Jeanette were both dumbfounded. Simon managed to squeak out, "who… sends… you?"

Mitch looked at him as though he had just heard the dumbest question of his life. "Who sends me? The party! The fucking Republican Party! Not this hinky dinky local California farmer's market that calls itself the Republican Party, the real deal."

"You're from the RNC?" Jeanette asked him.

"Sweetheart," he said to her in a condescending tone, "I am the RNC. They just don't put me in front of the camera as much some other guys because I'm too nice."

At this moment, Ray McGovern interrupted by re-entering his own office and saying, "you know, guys, I was thinking-"

"Not the time, Ray!" Mitch screamed at him. "I'm busy chatting with my new friends here! Fuck off!"

Whether from shock and fear or a desire to be insubordinate, McGovern froze and simply did not move.

Jeanette spoke up, "things are already turning around. We're closing the gap with Gary Martin."

"Not good enough!" Mitch refuted. "Your sorry excuse for a campaign is twelve points behind a man whose favorite pastime is slipping interns extra vodka and groping them! You need more national attention, so you'll be a guest on the following podcasts-" the angry southerner suddenly realized McGovern had not moved an inch and turned back towards him with pure fury in his eyes. "Did I not just tell you to fuck off, and yet you're still here?"

McGovern let his eyes sink to the ground nervously. "Yes… I am still here."

"Hey, Chip N' Dale!" Mitch shouted at Simon. "Lesson one of politics, I tell you to fuck off… what do you do?"

Simon hesitated, unsure of how to respond, "eff… off?"

Mitch opened his mouth to verbally reprimand him, but stopped himself, seemingly surprised that Simon had answered his question correctly. Finally, he spat out, "you'll go far. Now both of you fuck off."

Simon and Jeanette exchanged worried glances and shrugged at each other before the middle chipmunk began escorting McGovern towards the door.

"And another thing," Mitch said to Jeanette, "until your first podcast appearance, all of your currently scheduled events have been unscheduled."

Simon and Jeanette both exclaimed, "What?"

"They've been cancelled until we can trust you to toe the party line, which you'll begin practicing immediately."

"So you're telling me that I am not longer allowed to make any media appearances?" Jeanette asked him with dread and confusion dripping from each word.

"Correct," he snapped.

"Why wasn't I told about this?" Simon protested.

"Why would I tell you about it?" Mitch growled back, "I've told you two to fuck off twice now and yet you're still here!"

Simon persisted in arguing, "you should tell me about it because they were scheduled campaign events! Therefore, as campaign manager, they fall well within my purview!"

"Within your purview?" Mitch's face was an equal mixture of shock and annoyance.

"Yes!" Simon exclaimed.

"Where do you think you are, on an episode of Parks and Rec? This is a campaign for United States Senate! Not a John fucking Grisham novel!" Mitch then pointed a finger at Jeanette. "You! You are going to sit in a chair and repeat the line, 'abortion is a States rights issue' until I get tired of hearing you say it, or until your lips start bleeding, whichever comes last." He then shifted his finger towards Simon. "And you! Since you want to keep pretending you're some big shot campaign manager so bad, make yourself useful. Call up that hack Ted Chen over at MSNBC and tell him that if he ambushes Mrs. Seville with another question about her social media slap fight with Gary Martin, I'll drop a bomb on him."

"I… can't say that to him," said Simon, very clearly flabbergasted.

"Oh, does that not fit within your purview, Wannabe Bill Nye? Well in that case why don't you go back to your cushy home and play with your little toy chemistry flasks, and your magnets, and your… yacht owned by P-Diddy? Hey, you," he was now addressing Mcgovern, "Danny Devito! You do it!"

XXXXX

"I'm not doing it," Eleanor said defiantly. "I'm not sure why I even agreed to this meeting."

Gary Martin sat across from her, his confident, charismatic grin never wavering. "Mrs. Seville, the stock in your league has steadily dropped ever since she announced her candidacy. I know you care about your sister, but how much longer can you hold out? Think about your players."

"I can hold out long enough. Well past November if that's what you're wondering."

"You're only delaying the inevitable. The longer your sister holds out, the more danger you put your company in, not to mention the job security of thousands of players and staff. Why would you jeopardize all that… everything you've worked hard for? Just for a campaign that you and I both know is doomed for failure?"

Eleanor glared daggers at the Senator. "I already told you, your answer is no. I will not be the one who sabotages my sister. Now if that is all you are here for, you can kindly leave my office."

Martin sighed. "I hoped it wouldn't come to this," he said, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked him.

The phone began ringing up somebody who was in the Senator's speed dial. After a few moments, both of them could hear a faint, "this is Johnny," as the phone was on speaker.

Eleanor's eyes widened. "Johnny Rankin?"

"The same. Is this Mrs. Seville?"

She hesitated. Rankin was the CEO of ABC, the only network willing to air the WFA's games on national television. It was also the network that Theo's cooking shows aired on. She had spoken directly to him only once before.

"Yes, this is her," she said softly.

"I'm sorry this conversation can't happen under better circumstances. I wanted to personally let you know that the network has voted to cancel any and all further agreements to broadcast WFA games, for reasons including your family's violation of our code of conduct."

Her jaws dropped. "You can't do that! The playoffs start in just over a week!"

"Your own sister's actions and words have clearly had a detrimental effect on your league. And therefore, on the network. If you like, you can file a suit and claim breach of contract. But I have a feeling your league won't last long enough to sustain that."

"This is wrong," Eleanor groaned, shaking her head. "You are killing this league! And everyone who works for it, their dreams!"

"I am sorry, but my hands are tied on this issue. I'll be giving your husband a call shortly to inform him of the cancelation of his show as well."

"No!" she exclaimed, finally looking back up at Gary Martin, who raised his eyebrows at her, grinning wide as ever. She sighed and slunk down deep into her chair. "What do I have to do?"

XXXXX

Two days later, Jeanette was studying the latest likely voter trends and internal polling in her office at home, with Simon by her side aiding her and providing amplifying information whenever she asked for it.

A third, independent candidate had entered the race. He did so on the guise of being the progressive alternative to Gary Martin, and he ran as a man of principle. He was Justin McDaniels, and he was among the most famous and among the wealthiest businessmen in the entire state of California. He had historically been praised even by the most liberal, both in the state of California and nationwide, for enforcing a twenty dollar minimum wage across every single one of his companies. He had donated over four hundred million dollars towards solar panel research. He had donated an additional 300 million dollars towards marine life conservation in the Los Angeles and San Diego areas. He was the Golden boy. Invited to all of the celebrity parties, rarely attending them.

Fortunately, his entering his hat into the arena had done significantly more harm to Gary Martin than it had done to Jeanette. As the polls now showed an average of just a two point deficit for her; Martin at 40, Jeanette at 38, McDaniels at 22. With just one month to go until Election day, victory looked more feasible than ever before.

Jeanette's phone unexpectedly began to ring, followed immediately by Simon's. They both glanced at their lock screens.

Simon grimaced and said, "ugh, it's Mitch."

"It's Mitch for me too," Jeanette gasped.

They shot each other confused looks. "How does he do that?" Simon whispered.

They both answered their calls. Unbeknownst to them, Mitch had two separate phones in his hands, holding each one up to either ear. "Jeanette, Simon," came the furious growl of the southern man, "I don't like hearing speeches about my candidates from their family members unless they've just died. Turn on the news. Now!"

Shock and fear flooded both of their eyes as Simon shuffled through papers on the desk, looking for the TV remote. As he was doing so, Mitch abruptly hung up on both of them. Finally finding it, Simon turned on the flat screen hanging on the wall in Jeanettes office, prompting it to immediately begin broadcasting the local ABC affiliate. Seeing Eleanor and Theodore standing side by side at a podium in front of a stone building made Jeanette gasp.

The news commentator spoke over the footage briefly: "former pop star and current owner of the W-F-A as well as younger sister of Senate hopeful Jeanette Seville has given a public statement denouncing Mrs. Seville's behavior. Listen in."

The audio faded right into the video footage, where Eleanor began to speak, obviously addressing a large number of press members. "Thank you all for being here. Over the course of this election cycle, I have made it a point to maintain my neutrality in the face of controversy. I have done this for the sake of the players and staff that are under my employ. And I know for a fact that my husband," she said, taking Theodore's hand in hers, "has felt similarly."

In this moment, the youngest chipmunk stepped directly in front of the microphone at the podium, taking his wife's place. "As many out there watching know, Jeanette Seville is family to us. She is my wife's sister, and her campaign manager is her husband and my brother. My wife and I continue to love them both very dearly."

With that, he stepped away slightly and allowed Eleanor to once again take the microphone. "Jeanette's candidacy has torn a hole in our family, one born of the fact that we all want to support her as our sister, despite the fact that we may disagree with some of her ideals or campaign promises. But this has come to a stopping point. For the sake of both of our staffs who are looking to us to lead by example and make decisions that are best for them, we are hereby formally denouncing Jeanette Seville's campaign due to a lack of confidence in her ability to carry out the role of Senator, and are endorsing Gary Martin. There will be no questions, thank you."

Both of them slunked away from the podium and away from the press, who were ignoring her "no question" statement and doing their best to hound them on their way out.

The news broadcasters voice faded through the background, "well, there you have it, Theodore and Eleanor Seville-" she was interrupted by Simon shutting the TV off.

Jeanette, who had been watching the entire thing in dumbfounded silence, buried her face in her hands. Not crying, but wanting to more badly than she ever had. How could she do this to me? she asked herself. Simon stood there, staring at her glumly. He was silently furious with his brother. They both rightfully felt betrayed and confused.

"She told me… over the phone that she just wanted to stay out of this," Jeanette grumbled, not lifting her head. "Why would they do that? It makes no sense."

Having not the faintest clue what to say, Simon scratched the back of his neck, plopped into a chair next to his wife's desk, and let out a big sigh.

XXXXX

Just over a month to go until election night, Jeanette was pacing to and fro within her office, pondering her next move in the hours after midnight. Simon had gone to bed a good while ago. The polls had been slipping, if only slightly. It was a noticeable trend. Mitch had ceased from pestering them but also was no longer returning their calls, likely signaling that either he, the Republican Party, or both believed Jeanette's campaign to be a lost cause. At six points behind and falling, she couldn't necessarily blame them. But what to do?

She had been on every semi-popular political commentary TV show and podcast in existence, some that supported her and some that hunted her with difficult questions. With every word she spoke, her personality and her veracious attempts to appeal to middle ground seemed to win people over. Until they didn't. Until her popularity plateaued and had failed to recover. Now she found the opposite result was common. It seemed every time she opened her mouth in public, her poll numbers dropped. Commentators often remarked that she came across as "annoying" and "like the drunk aunt that just won't shut up or go back home". A real catch-22. On the one hand, every time she spoke, she lost support. On the other hand, the only way she could possibly make up the ground she had lost was to get out there and get her message across by speaking.

She considered her dilemma for what must have been an hour, never once sitting down. Finally, she frowned, remembered her loving husband in bed all alone, and gave it up for the night. Jeanette walked upstairs in the dark, entered her bedroom where she could hear Simon lightly snoring, snuck into her walk-in closet, slipped off her professional skirt and suit, and clumsily wrapped herself in her pajamas. She tried to be as quiet as possible as she tiptoed to her bed, lifted the covers just enough so that she could slide in, and pulled herself up onto the mattress. But the movement woke Simon with a start as he rolled over to see it was his wife.

"Oh," he said, "hey."

"Hey," Jeanette replied sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I tried not to wake you up."

"No, no, it's fine," Simon yawned, closing his eyes. "I was barely asleep anyways." Suddenly, his eyes snapped back open. "Oh my God, Jeanette! I just remembered!"

"What is it?" she asked, startled.

"I had a dream. I think I know the solution to our problem!"

His wife shot him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

He sat up in bed and used his elbow for support as he leaned towards her in excitement. "OK, so you've been playing this entire game as if you were just a normal politician…" he trailed off as if expecting a response or an interruption which did not come. "But that's the thing - you're not just a normal politician! You were a pop star first!"

"So?"

"So… we need to tap into the showmanship and likeability that got people lining up for miles to see us perform. Less Ben Shapiro, more Joe Rogan and Theo Von. You need to increase the 'hype' levels at your events, get people excited! Your speeches need to be a show!"

Unsure of what to say at first, Jeanette glanced at the wall across the room, wondering what her husband's vision would look like when realized and wondering how it would be received.

XXXXX

Oracle Park, the San Francisco Giants' home stadium, was filled to its 42,000 person capacity. In center field was erected a large wooden stage with an American flag hanging behind it and fully decorated with "Jeanette Seville for Senate" merchandise. Every member of the audience sat in anticipation, murmuring to each other. Excitement was so palpable in the air it could be detected on a Geiger counter.

Suddenly, three bells rang from the stadium's loudspeakers resembling those of the beginning of a heavyweight boxing fight, followed by the rhythmic clapping of a nonexistent crowd. Michael Buffer's voice broke the tension with the words, "ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the main event!" This caused the entirety of the baseball venue to erupt into cheers. This was only exasperated when Buffer gave them his famous intro: "LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!"

With that, much to the elation of all of the onlookers, the opening tune of the song "Let's Get Ready to Rumble" from "Space Jam" began playing. Right at the moment the beat dropped, the phrase "ya'll ready for this?" could be heard, followed immediately by three black Cadillac Escalades speeding onto the field. They each drifted wrecklessly around all four bases exactly three times to the sound of thunderous applause. The music did not stop. Finally, they settled in front of the stage in center field, where Jeanette exited the middle one and wasted no time in flashing a wave to the crowd.

She had never seen anything like this. These people cheered for her like she had been hoping they had from the very beginning. They waved her campaign signs and American flags, jumping up and down to the beat as she smiled and waved at them. She trudged confidently up the steps that led directly to her podium. Only once she reached her stool that allowed her to speak into the microphone and be seen over the podium did the song stop. The audience also went quiet, politely, waiting for her to speak.

She took a deep breath, smiled again, and said, "hello San Francisco! Woah boy, I love this city!"

The people attending once again gave her a pronounced and very prolonged cheer.

End Flashback*

And so Jeanette sat there on her couch, her left eye twitching from frustration, watching the election result coverage turn from a relatively neutral production to a slander fest. They flashed blurred out images of her half naked sister, wondering aloud to themselves how Jeanette would react, how the last second voters would react, and how it could possibly swing such a razor tight race back to Gary Martin. It was almost more than she could bear. She felt embarrassment for Brittany but also herself. Alvin as well. Honestly, the entire family. What if Dave saw this? It was very likely he did.

And now, in one second, it felt like her entire bid for office had been discredited. She was furious at Brittany for posing for those photos. Even though she knew, logically, that it was not an intentional betrayal, it still felt like one. At least like a sabotage.

Simon and Alvin were still out of sight, having rushed after Brittany who Jeanette assumed was crying in the bathroom. This left only herself and Laney in the living room.

Suddenly, her phone began ringing, causing her heart to sink. There was precisely a zero percent chance that this was going to be a fun call to take. She checked the screen, and immediately realized her prediction was correct. It was a number that had refused to connect with her for months; Mitch's number.

She grimaced and accepted the call, pressing her phone against her right ear. "Hello?" she squeaked.

"Oh, hey, if it isn't little miss 'my sister is going to decide to become a professional whore the day of the election'."

"Do not talk about her like that," Jeanette threatened him.

"Oh, well, if that bothers you just imagine what all of the potential voters in line are saying about her right now. And about you for that matter."

Jeanette wanted to snap back at him, but failed to find the proper words to do so.

"I'm going to make this perfectly clear and simple so your tiny chipmunk brain can comprehend," he continued menacingly, "she needs to go. You need to kick her the fuck out of your house. As a matter of fact, you need to do it very publically. Out the front door, so the press sees it too. And then you're going to make a statement where you basically disown her in front of all those cameras."

Well that was by far the longest chapter I have ever written for any story ever.

What do you think? Will Jeanette comply and humiliate Alvin and Brittany? Will she win? What did Simon have to say to Brittany? How will everybody react? What do you think is going to happen?

Let me know your predictions in a review!

Next chapter will have much more focus on Alvin and Brittany.