The iCongressman (10 page)

MICHAEL

“So the House finally agreed to a fifth continuing
resolution that will keep the government funded, at least in the short term,”
the television pundit says to the camera as a lead in. “The rhetoric only a
couple of short weeks ago led most Americans to believe the nation had to
prepare for yet another government shutdown. I ask the panel, what changed?”

The last votes for the week are usually scheduled no later
than three o’clock on Fridays, so I like to take time with my inner circle to
sit down and discuss the events of the past few days. Most of these meetings
over the past year have circled around our demoralizing failures. Today is a
different story.

“As much as I’d like to say the representatives in the House
listened to the polls and hammered out the agreement most Americans wanted, it
wouldn’t be true,” the bald man with the tufts of gray hair on the sides in the
studio says. “The passage of the Bennit Amendment to the Tax Relief Act played
a huge part in getting them to sit down.”

“Is it me, or does he
look
like an
overstuffed
Oompa
Loompa
?”
Amanda asks.

“Funny, I was thinking more along the lines of
Krusty
the Clown.” Oh yeah, we spend more time ragging on
the pundits when we watch these shows than anything else.

“We haven’t heard much out of Michael Bennit since he came
to Washington, at least legislatively,” the rather manly looking woman on the
panel chuckles in an obvious reference to my censures. “But he teamed up with the
other icandidate, Representative Reyes from Texas, to successfully tack on this
amendment.”

“A few more chin hairs and she could be a stand-in on Duck
Dynasty,” Chelsea observes.

“Or as a member of ZZ Top.”
Vince,
Vanessa, and Chelsea all look at me with the faces of bewilderment I get when I
stray into eighties pop culture. “Forget it, way before your time.”

“We know the Republicans are livid over this amendment, but
they wanted their tax bill more,” the bearded pundit adds. “He embarrassed the
leadership, but actually succeeded in forcing the parties to cooperate and
accomplish something for a change.”

“This is what I think most of America expected Michael
Bennit to do when he got to Congress. Do you think we’ll see more of that?” the
host asks.

“We’d better,” Vince quips. He’s wanted me to mix it up
since the day we arrived in Washington. If I told him I decided to walk into
the House chamber with a flamethrower, he would volunteer to carry extra fuel.

“He is down significantly in the polls, but he’s still
popular nationally and carries a lot of weight in the social media sphere, even
though he is not as active in it as much as he once was. I wouldn’t count him
out just yet, especially if he keeps doing things like this.”

“Congressman?
I’m sorry to interrupt,
but Thomas Parker is here to see you,” one of my junior staff members says from
the door to the office.

Vince, Chelsea, and Vanessa all look at each other in
disbelief as I shut the television off. It’s not often we get distinguished
visitors. In fact, it never happens.

“Send him in. Vince, Vanessa, can you guys
excuse
us for a minute?”

“Sure thing, boss,” Vince says, turning to leave. “But we’re
going to want details.” No doubt they will. That debriefing will come complete
with a metal chair and single light hanging from a wire in a windowless room.

“Good afternoon, Congressman. I’m sorry to drop by
unannounced.”

“It’s not a problem. Can I offer you anything?”

“No, thank you,” Parker responds politely while looking
around. “I’ve never been in this office before.”

“Most every other member of the House hasn’t either,” I
reply in kind. “The reasons for that don’t escape you, sir, so what do I owe
the honor of this visit?”

“You like to cut right to the chase, don’t you, Michael?”

“There’s too much small talk in this town already.”

“Yes, there is,” Parker says with a laugh, “so I’ll get to
it. I doubt you know, but I have family that lives up in your district. In
fact, my niece serves in the Connecticut National Guard with the 1-169th
Aviation Regiment.”

“No kidding? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, sir, she joined up right out of high school to help
pay for college. She just got back from her first deployment. It’s hard to
think of my brother’s little girl as a combat veteran,” he says, taking a
private trip down memory lane.

I don’t know much about Thomas Parker, but I do know service
to God through the clergy, and to our country through military service, runs
deep in his family. He comes from a long line of Baptist preachers, and many of
them served as chaplains in various branches of the armed forces. I’ve heard
rumors his family has participated in every conflict this country has fought in
since the Civil War.

“What does she do?”

“She’s a fifteen tango and just got a slot as a crew chief,”
he says with pride in his voice.

Fifteen
Tango
is the designation
the Army uses to define a soldier’s Military Occupational Specialty as a
Helicopter Repairer. It’s a fancy way to say her job is to fix helicopters. I’m
impressed though, because I know it’s a competitive specialty and difficult to
progress into a Blackhawk crew chief slot. They have tough jobs, especially
when they get deployed to combat zones like Afghanistan. I met more than my
fair share of them in my tours overseas.

“So what’s the problem?”

“The pilot and the rest of the crew.
She’s tried everything to stop their sexually explicit behavior. The direct
approach, indirect, third party … Finally she had to file a formal report
against them for contributing to a hostile work environment. Now, she hasn’t
been physically assaulted in any way, or anything, but―”

“There is a zero tolerance policy for all forms of sexual
harassment, especially since such behavior has been well documented to lead to
sexual assault,” I say, finishing his statement.

“Exactly,” Congressman Parker says, happy that I understand
the seriousness of the matter.

“And let me guess, the command’s done nothing.”

“Next to nothing.
That’s why I’d
like you to conduct an investigation.”

“You’re asking me to intervene?”

“No, just force the leadership to follow their procedures.
Are you familiar with Army’s SHARP program?”

“Sharp?”

“It stands for something like the Sexual Harassment and
Assault Response and Prevention program. Does it ring a bell?”

“Vaguely.
It’s been a while. I
think it was called something else back when I was in.”

“Yeah, apparently they change the name every couple of
years, but the goal is the same. Anyway, one of the tenants of the program
dictates while an investigation is being conducted, the commander is supposed
to protect the complainant from acts of reprisal. That includes reassigning the
soldier in question, if necessary. They haven’t done any of that, and she
turned to me when things got ugly during the Memorial Day parade the unit
participated in.”

“Congressman, you are just as capable of doing this on your
own. Why are you turning to me?” It’s a legitimate question, but he seems
offended at it.

“I assume you are balking because you think this is some
sort of political trap,” he surmises, studying my face for a reaction.

“Considering my last year here, to be honest with you, the
thought crossed my mind.”

I glance over to Chelsea who is silently leaning against the
wall. To her credit, she is one of the rare people in this world who
knows
when to talk and when to sit back and listen. The fact
that she does not need to interject her own comments and feelings into this
conversation is one of the things I love about her. Anything she has to say
will be brought up in private, but the look on her face speaks volumes. She
doesn’t trust Representative Parker one bit.

“Okay, I suppose I can’t blame you for that. Look, there are
some really good soldiers in that unit. A few bad apples are spoiling it for
the rest. But she’s my niece, Michael. I don’t want my investigation to appear
like influence, meddling, or a conflict of interest. She lives in your
district, and since you’re from a military background―”

“I’ll take care of it, Thomas.” He doesn’t need to say
anymore.

“You will?”

“I will look into it and get back to you as soon as I can.
In the meantime, tell your niece to keep her head up and her butt down.”

“Okay, I’ll do that,” the man from Alabama says with a
smile. “Here is what little information I have on the situation. It should get
you started.”

I accept the folder from the man and shake his hand. He
gives a nod to Chelsea. “Ma’am,” he says before walking out the door of my
inner office. By the look on Chelsea’s face, she’s never been called “ma’am”
before. Not surprising, considering she’s barely twenty years old. When she
walks over to the desk, I hand her the file.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Chelsea asks, her
hand holding the paper ominously over the trash can. She doesn’t like Parker
for legitimate reasons. Anything that smells like a favor to him ought to be
summarily rejected in her mind.

“Who is our most tenacious case manager?” I ask. Favor or
not, I’m not willing to dismiss this outright. If a soldier is indeed in
trouble in my state, I’m going to help where I can.

“You can’t be serious? You believe this load of crap? Parker
is setting you up for something politically embarrassing!”

“Yeah, he could be. The only way to know is to investigate
it, which leads to my original question.”

“Meghan,” she sighs, realizing there is no talking me out of
this.

“Have her bump this to the top of her to-do list, please.
Tell her to let me know if she gets any push back from the command. I have
talked to The Adjutant General on a few occasions, so instruct her not to be
bashful with the name dropping.”

“Okay,” Chelsea says halfheartedly, the unmistakable sound
of frustration in the tone of her voice. She turns to leave, but maybe now is
the right time for the talk I owe her.

“Chels, you have every right to be pissed. I know you can’t
stand Parker, or damned near any other elected representative here. And you
know I respect your opinion and counsel above pretty much everyone’s.”

“So why do this? Why do a favor for a man who is one of the
leaders of your lynch mob?”

“Simple. His niece is a soldier living in our district. If
she is getting a raw deal, we are going to correct that. Not for him, for her.”

Chelsea nods, but once again I’m at odds with my chief of
staff. I’m about to tell her something she needs to hear when the familiar
voice of the woman who is the light at the end of my tunnel enters.

“Was that Thomas Parker I saw walking out of your office?”
Kylie asks, beckoning back over her shoulder. I guess the talk will have to
wait once again.

“The man, the myth, and the legend.
One of the most influential Republicans in the House and the
illustrious Chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus.”

“And he came to visit you?” she asks with a disparaging tone
I’m sure wasn’t intended.

“Yeah, he missed
Keeping
Up With
the
Kardashians
this week and wanted a recap,” I add sarcastically.

Kylie’s a journalist, and a damn good one. So I’m not
surprised that she notices tension between me and my chief of staff. There are
no secrets between us, and she knows I’m beginning to worry if this job has
gotten more to Chelsea than it has me.

“He wanted a favor,” Chelsea corrects, clearly not in the
mood to enjoy my witty sense of humor. That or it just wasn’t funny.

“Okay then. Let’s move on to the bigger issue of the day.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, uh-oh is right. I had a contact call me to see if I
knew anything about an investigation under way. Apparently, a special
subcommittee was convened in secret, and based on the results, is about to
bring charges to the Ethics Committee.”

“You can’t be serious,” Chelsea says, already connecting the
dots on who is the focus of the inquiry. I swear that girl is one
more bad
day away from going on a serious bender.
Considering how horrible I have been at this job, I can’t really blame her. She
has been the modern version of the Greek goddess Selene trying to keep the
wheels on this wagon. She’s done an amazing job, but it’s taking a toll on her.

“It’s already been leaked to the media, so expect your phone
to start ringing off the hook.”

“Vince is going to love this,” Chelsea reacts sarcastically,
walking out the door and into the outer office.

“It gets worse. Apparently the evidence against you is
pretty compelling. Are you sure you didn’t leave anything out when you told me
about your meeting with that lobbyist back in Connecticut?”

I briefed her on the meeting in great detail, both before
and after. She smelled a rat from the very beginning, and said as much.
Mercifully she stopped well short of the “I told you so” I would have gotten
from Jessica when I told her what transpired. Although she was a touch
disappointed I didn’t break his nose. God, I love this woman.

“Another fabricated scandal,” I say with an exhale. “It’s
starting to feel like old times again.”

CHELSEA

The walk from the Capitol to our space in the Cannon
House Office Building is a short one. Out of the four House office buildings,
Cannon is the oldest, and by far, the coolest. We were lucky to score a
nine-hundred-fifty-eight-square-foot room there with a Capitol view after the
representative who originally had it opted to take Beaumont’s old office in the
more prestigious Rayburn Building. To our surprise, none of the new
representatives housed up in the fifth floor “cages” sucked it up.

I see a group of media breaking up at the House Triangle as
I approach it. Located on the House side of the Capitol's East Front, the small
patch of land sports a permanent podium that uses the Capitol as a backdrop for
press conferences seen on the news all the time. After a quick search of the
small crowd, I return my attention to walking just in time to avoid crashing
right into one of the Three Amigos.

“Hello, Miss Stanton,” Christopher says. The other two also
bid their hello. Crap, what are their names again?

“Hey, guys.”

“We’re actually glad we ran into you. You have time for a
quick talk?”

“Sure,” I say, not really meaning it.

Chris leads the way with me at his side, his colleagues in
tow behind us. I guess he drew the short straw. The Three Amigos, as I like to
call them, are the chiefs of staff for three prominent New York Democrats. All
short and in their late thirties, they’re always together when I see them
around Capitol Hill.

We walk along the sidewalk that parallels Southwest Drive
between the Capitol and the Rayburn building. Tourists meander past us, so we
walk until we’re clear of any prying ears. This better be good. If it’s not,
they will learn firsthand what happens when you piss off a redhead.

“This has been a pleasant walk,
fellas
,
but is one of you going to ever get to the point?”

“We were asked to deliver a message to you and your boss.”
Yeah, this ought to be good. “Bennit has more support here than you know.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” I sneer.

“It’s true,” one of the other Amigos says.

“Our bosses are among them. They don’t agree with him on
every issue, but wish they could work with him more,” Chris laments.

“So why don’t they?” I snap. This level of annoyance in my
voice can be unappealing, and is probably a big reason I don’t get asked out on
many dates.

“The press is reporting your boss is about to be slapped
with ethics violations,” the third Amigo says. “That’s toxic in this town.”

“No kidding, but that doesn’t explain why you didn’t reach
out sooner.”

“The minority leader would flay us if we go anywhere near
him,” Chris explains. “And the most liberal caucus members have made it very
clear that any member caught working with him will face repercussions.”

Damn caucuses. In Congress, they are formed by
representatives as a forum to discuss issues and make plans to advance
legislative agendas important to the membership of the group. There are dozens
of them in the House, and the Democratic House caucus is one of the most
powerful since each representative from that party is a member. Like its Republican
counterpart, that caucus elects the party leadership.

Their bosses also belong to another group called the New
Democrat Coalition, Congress’s largest group of moderates who often finds
itself at odds with the rest of the party. Yes, instead of partying on
weekends, eating pizza, and studying for the occasional college exam, this has
become my life.

“I don’t know if there is anything to these charges against
Bennit or not,” Chris says. “What I do know is the most extreme members of both
parties want him gone.”

“Well, the way it sounds, no one in this town has the
backbone to stand up to them, so they’ll probably get their wish,” I say,
turning to walk away. My emotions are catching up with me, and thinking about
how hopeless our situation is only makes it worse. I can’t let these guys see
that. I’m about ten steps away before they stop me.

“We know about the other icandidates.” I stop dead in my
tracks. The discussions I had with Mister B about whatever plan he and the
ex-senator are conjuring up have been vague at best. I don’t think he has even
seen the names, let alone shared them with me. How the hell do these guys know?

“What icandidates?” I ask reflexively. They look at each
other before walking over to me.

“Bennit is teaming up with a former senator from Virginia to
support the campaigns of a hundred independent social media candidates to run
against the most powerful politicians in the House,” Chris says.

“How could … I mean …” C’mon Chelsea, get it together, I
tell myself. “How do you know that?”

“It’s not important,” Amigo Two says. I really wish I could
remember his name. It would make it so much easier to verbally assault him.

“Damn straight it’s important. I want to know!” I demand, my
redhead temper starting to get the best of me.

“Lots of things get discussed between staff members at a bar
over Marlboro Lights and Coors Light, Miss Stanton,” Chris says, deriding both
my age and implying I’m so far out of the inner circle I wouldn’t know that. As
much as I want to strangle him, I need to let it go and dig for more
information.

“Fine.
Why are you guys telling me
this?”

“Rumor has it Bennit is avoiding going after moderates. Our
bosses are slaves to the powerful liberals in the party. I’m sure Republicans
in the Liberty Caucus and other Blue Dog Democrats feel the same way.”

“So?” I ask impatiently.

“Michael can change the dynamic of the House if he can pull
this off. Our bosses think that may be in the country’s best interests. We want
you to let him know that if he does, we’re willing to work with him.”

“Yeah, only we all know that he won’t survive this ethics
hearing. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s the truth,
and I knew it as soon as I heard. There is nothing we can do to fight this.

“Chelsea,” Amigo Three says with a chuckle, “you’re his
chief of staff. You can’t think like that. I know you’re new to this game, but
you’re his top advisor. If he’s in trouble, it’s on you to get him out of it.”

“Most of our colleagues just think you wandered off your
school tour and ended up as a chief of staff. Time to prove them wrong,” Chris
says as he and his two pals head toward the Rayburn Building.

“How?”
I call out to them,
instantly regretting it.

“That’s for you to figure out.”

* * *

I made it as far as the grand rotunda of the Cannon
Office Building before I break down. Seated on a simple wooden bench nestled
among the grandeur of the arched portals and high ceiling, I bury my head in my
hands and cry.

I knew the pressures of this job would be difficult to
manage, but I never prepared myself for this. There was no realizing that I
would have to fashion a plan to keep my mentor from getting kicked out of here.
Is he really expecting me to do that? Is that why he’s so disappointed in me
lately?

“Chelsea?” the soothing voice of Kylie asks as she hovers
over me.

“Uh, yeah, hi, Kylie,” I say, trying to stifle my tears and
hide the puffiness of my eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks, genuine concern all over
her face and in the tone of her voice.

I want to be strong. I want to tell her that I just needed a
moment of emotional release. I want to pick up the pieces and show her that I
have it all under control. “I can’t do this anymore, Kylie!” is what I blurt
out instead. Yeah, fail.

“Okay, we are long overdue for a girl chat. Let’s go.”

“No, I can’t, I have―”

“It wasn’t a request, Chelsea. C’mon, work can wait,” she
says. She’s very compelling. I suppose that’s a reason why she’s such a good
journalist.

Kylie reflexively knows where to go. She doesn’t say
anything as we leave the Cannon building and walk around to the set of stone
stairs on the West Front of the Capitol. With no effort, she leads me right to
my favorite spot and has a seat facing the National Mall. It may not be sunset,
but I instantly feel better.

For the next ten minutes, I open up to her like I have never
opened up to anyone since my mother died. I was just going into high school
when I lost her, and although my father did a great job as a single parent,
there is no substitute for a girl’s mother. Kylie’s a little young to fulfill
that role, but she’s doing a damn good job listening to me spill my guts to
her.

“I just can’t do this job. I can’t be the chief of staff he
needs me to be,” I conclude, finishing my emotional rant between sobs.

“Then don’t, Chelsea,” Kylie says so matter-of-factly, it
almost sounds insincere.

“You think I should quit?” almost not believing what I just
heard.

“Oh, God no.
I think you should
stop trying to be what you think people expect and just be who you are.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Long before I met you guys, I was on a career trajectory
that resembled something NASA would launch. I was covering politics for the
New York Times
, and I was in heaven.
But I realized all that glittered in Washington was not gold, and I set out to
purge the town from the corruption I thought was choking democracy. After all,
I was Kylie Roberts. I was untouchable.”

“And you got fired.”

“Yup.
I was pretty resentful about
that for a long time. I thought I had made a mistake by straying from what was
expected from me. Then I met you guys. A group of students working so hard to
get their teacher elected to Congress was inspiring. It made me realize that I
was focused on being the journalist everyone expected for so long, I needed to
lash out and break away. I think deep down I wanted to be fired.”

“But you joined our campaign because you wanted revenge.”

“I never said I wasn’t vindictive,” Kylie says with a laugh
and a smile.

“So you think I want to be fired?” I ask, not sure what the
point of the story is.

“Not at all.
I think you are trying
to be something you’re not and sacrificing who you are. He didn’t ask you to be
his chief of staff because he wanted you to be some political sleaze ball. He
asked you for the same reason he chose you to run the campaign. He trusts your
judgment enough to listen to your advice and let you lead the troops.”

“It doesn’t feel like he ever takes my advice.”

“He’s a free thinker, Chels. Believe me, he won’t follow
anyone blindly, but I don’t think him not taking your advice is really what’s
bothering you.”

“What do you mean?” If there is one person’s judge of
character and behavior I trust, it’s hers.

“Michael is like a second father to you. Just like you were
always terrified of disappointing your own dad, the same applies here. I know
how you feel. When I first met Michael, he was larger than life. I didn’t want
to disappoint him for different reasons, but I understand what you’re going
through because he has that effect on people.”

“Never seems to bother Vince or Vanessa.”

“Vince learned this lesson much sooner than you are.
Remember back to when your campaign was first starting? He had his meltdown.”

She’s right. The day we announced our first campaign at the
Perkfect Buzz, Vince tried to be something he wasn’t and it turned into a
disaster. I had forgotten about that.

“When I started working with you guys, I struggled with
knowing that Michael would be a terrible politician if he played by the traditional
set of rules. The same applies to your situation. You will be a horrible chief
of staff for the same reason, because it’s not in either of you two’s DNA.”

“That’s not how people are supposed to act around here. It’s
all about deal making and schmoozing and networking. I’m not good at any of
that.”

“You don’t know that. You have no clout to bargain with,
schmoozing is overrated, and you can’t network if the members have been
directed by their leadership not to work with you. Nothing that has happened
over the past year has anything to do with your abilities.”

“What if you’re wrong about all this, Kylie?” For so long I
have believed everything that has gone wrong is my fault. I’m still not sure
what to do or what to think, and I’m getting tired of feeling that way.

“Trust me, sweetie, I’m not.”

Kylie and Michael have a relationship most women can only
dream about. They are both stubborn, so when they fight, it’s epic. But in the
end, they are completely in love with each other and loyal to a fault. Even
only after dating for a year and a half, they know each other better than most
couples who have been married for ten.

“So what do you think I should do now?”

“Frankly?
Say
screw
it and be yourself. Michael needs you to be the same tenacious, fiery redhead
that got him here.”

“I’m not sure how to start doing that.”

“I do,” she says, rising and prompting me to get up from my
own seat on the stairs. “He’s up there meeting with that shark Viano right now.
This is as good a time to start as any.”