Domestic Affairs (14 page)

Focus, Olivia.

The sequined tank looked good, but she wanted to be sure she was professionally covered. She grabbed a black blazer and threw in her jean jacket for the Hamptons. It was dark denim, so it didn't seem too casual. The perfect work-at-nonwork-events look, something she had decided she had mastered.

Five minutes later she emailed Jacob.
Okay, mtg moved. Can come. Try not to look like u r going to ur bar mitzvah. I don't want you to embarrass me.

As Jacob closed out Olivia's text in the backseat of the SUV, he looked down at his normal campaign garb. Semiwrinkled khakis, light blue
shirt, blue blazer, and Cole Haan shoes. It was actually exactly what he had worn to his friend's kid's bar mitzvah last month. He tugged on the sleeve of the blazer, which was still a bit stained from when he'd put his arm into some mustard, reminding himself that it needed to be dry-cleaned stat. He wondered if Sophie had already seen this outfit more than twice.
She didn't seem bothered by it
, he thought, smugly reminiscing about her lingering kiss as he had run out the door.

He looked out the window to see the governor walking toward the car, stopping as always to say hi to every person he passed.

“Afternoon, Gov.” Jacob started his usual rundown as the governor shook hands with Sal, the security detail deployed to drive them, and settled into the front seat. “Manny is hosting this at the Swann Club,” he said.

Governor Taylor looked around the car. “Isn't Olivia coming with us?”

“We're picking her up—her apartment is right on the way to the FDR.”

Sal nodded his head, confirming that this was the most efficient way to go, and then gave a little side glance and smile to Jacob. Though there was no guarantee you would get the same detail every time you went to a given state, Sal had driven them around New York during the presidential race and had become a confidante. A trustworthy driver, who was inevitably privy to all kinds of conversations and phone calls, was a rare and treasured thing. So Jacob had made a point of requesting him whenever they were in town. Sal appreciated the special request and had a good time with them, so he was quick to help out when Jacob needed backup on a plan change. In this case, Jacob knew Sal believed what he was agreeing to, which made it that much more convincing. The actual plan had been to pick Olivia up before they arrived at the governor's hotel, but Jacob wound up staying at Sophie's on the West Side, making it impossible to get to both of them and still be on time for the governor.
The kiss was totally worth it.

“We'd be making a huge circle to get her first,” Sal had originally argued. “Her apartment is literally on the street we have to go on. If she's waiting outside and we get a red light, we may not even lose a single minute.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, hoping that explanation would hold his boss over and wondering why, after all this time, Sal still didn't understand that in the battle of logic versus what makes a politician's trip faster, the latter always won out.

Now, as long as the always-late Olivia is for once on time . . .
Waiting never went over well with Taylor, or any politician for that matter.

“Okay,” Taylor said, more accommodating than usual.

Jacob continued on with the briefing. “All the info is here.” He handed him the page of notes. “And here are your remarks and some updates on the latest tort-reform bill in the Senate. Manny's wife Carol will be there, along with his kids: Manny, Jr. and Robbie. Cheryl and Blair are cochairs. They're the ones who actually raised most of the money, as usual. Also, wanted to make sure you saw that Ron and Doris Keller will be there; you helped get their daughter into Emory.”

“Right, right, what's her name again?”

“Sally. She's a freshman, studying political science. She's an obligatory internship waiting to happen.”

“Okay, who else?”

“Governor Marino and his wife, Donna, may stop by.”

Sal interrupted. “Here, Jacob, right?”

Jacob looked up and let out a sigh of relief. Olivia waited on the corner, huge bag in hand. “Yup, that's her housing project.”

He never understood why girls felt the need to pack for a week when they were going overnight. He had brought an extra shirt and an extra pair of underwear, and they fit in his computer bag. Why did girls require drag-along luggage at all times?

Olivia saw the SUV pulling up and applauded herself for having made it down before they got there. It had taken all of her talent and time to get every plausibly necessary outfit into the smallest black bag she could find.

“Hello, hello, Miss Olivia,” said the governor through the window.

She smiled.
See now, why can't anyone I know ever be walking by me at a time like this? Picked up by an SUV with Landon Taylor welcoming me out the window. I mean, it shouldn't be that much to ask. There's always an
ex-boyfriend or high school friend available when I'm disheveled in Juicy sweatpants taking in food on a Friday night! I mean, I'm just saying.

“Sparkly,” Jacob said chidingly through the open door with a smile, “meet Sal.”

Sal had stepped out to the back to help load in Olivia's bag.

“Hello. Thanks so much.” Olivia handed over her bag and jumped in the car. “Good afternoon, Governor.” A rush of nervousness swooped over her but she quickly lost it to the buzzing of her BlackBerry.

[email protected]
:
Sequins, really?

“How?” she mouthed while typing back to Jacob, wondering how he even had the time to type so quickly.

[email protected]
:
Thought we were going to forgo the bar mitzvah garb.

[email protected]
:
If only I had known we were going sweet sixteen instead.

Olivia let a laugh out, conceding, as always, to Jacob's humor.

“You ready for a big day back there?”

“Ready, sir!” Olivia smiled. “I hear Manny has put together a great event.”

“Who told you that—Manny?” The governor laughed. Even his laugh seemed to have a nice Southern twang.

“He's not so bad!” She pleaded his case. “He means well.”

“Oh, please, Olivia, he's a DFTL.” Jacob hit her on the shoulder. “Even
you
can't find the good in that.”

“A what?” She loved Jacob's way of always coming up with nicknames and acronyms, but this one was new for her.

“You know, a DFTL, ‘dirty fuckin' trial lawyer.' I mean, seriously, the only classes he could have ever actually passed in law school were Being a Spokesman on a Commercial 101 and Picking up Women in Hotel Bars 102. Glorified telemarketer. Haven't you seen his ads? ‘He is ready and waiting to defend your honor!' Of course, the only thing he is actually ready and waiting for is your money, and possibly your wife. DFTLs.”

Olivia laughed out loud, and the governor smiled.

Manny Stanton was indeed a dirty fuckin' trial lawyer. He was waiting at attention with his eldest son, looking as if they were expecting the Pope, as the SUV pulled up to the Swann Club. His combed-over
hair was greased down across his round head and Olivia could see the Gucci logo all over his tie from twenty feet away.
He'll never come through with all the money he says he'll raise
, Olivia thought, happy that it wasn't her problem just yet. She lightly pinched her arm to make sure it wasn't all just a really good dream.

Jacob had most of the responsibility on his shoulders. It was hard enough maintaining finance events when you were there to set them up, but on the road, it was nearly impossible.
It will be so much easier when Olivia starts officially
, he thought as he watched her nervously pick at her arm. He hated doing things half-assed. To prepare a good event required being on site for four weeks, or at least two, beforehand. But with all of his other responsibilities and constant travel, he had to leave a good portion of the work in the hands of donors and volunteers. And most of the time the only question in such cases was who would be less reliable. He had hired a new finance assistant, Addie, who had started the day before. But with only one previous campaign under her belt, she couldn't handle everything.

He and Olivia plotted their game plan for the event as they rode up I-95. She would “staff” the governor. Jacob would rush into the space, check Addie's progress, and do on-site advance. “On-site advance” was an oxymoron—it was called advance because you were supposed to do it in advance of the candidate's arrival. He and the governor joked that lately what he did would be better termed “on-site during.”

He walked into the club, an old mansion decorated much like the people in it—expensive but without any real style. Both the club and the members seemed to be stuck between wanting to be part of an old, traditional country club and showing off their very new money. A huge maroon speckled rug covered a dark wood floor in the large lobby, and strangely modern wood chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Jacob said hello to the volunteers, who were seated at long folding tables that had been set up leading into the room and covered with white tablecloths. They seemed, as volunteers always do, more interested in where the candidate was than in their task of collecting the checks.

Jacob tried to get them to focus by promising that Taylor would take
a photo with all of them at the end of the event. This would keep them in their seats working until the end. He double-checked the microphone level and made sure there was a bottle of water on the shelf under the podium and that it was moved in the perfect position, to the right where it would be easiest for the governor to grab it. He scanned the room and breathed a sigh of relief. Addie ran to his side looking for approval of her setup, proud to be handling her first event for the campaign.

“Looks good,” Jacob said. “I want to make sure you meet the governor. I've told him so much about you. He's really looking forward to meeting you in person.”

With the ease of a candidate himself, Jacob led Addie straight to Taylor. He needed to get him toward the podium and start the speaking program anyway.

“Let's get this show on the road!” Jacob said to Manny as he pulled the governor toward the microphone.

Manny proceeded up to the podium, with the governor following closely behind. He began speaking, telling an inane story Jacob had heard at least a dozen times before. It was an explanation of how Manny and the governor met. After hearing it for the fifth or sixth time, Jacob had determined that the story had no point other than to describe in detail the size of Manny's house.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Manny said boisterously, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I'm so happy to introduce my very good friend, the next president of the United States, Landon Taylor!”

The governor shook Manny's hand and walked to the microphone, where, Jacob thought, he really did look like the next president of the United States. As Jacob moved to the back of the room, confident in the job he had done, the governor reached down without a glance and easily grabbed his water.