Chapter Twenty

Bijal stared at her monitor as the video clip ended. She’d watched Colleen’s Tank Guzman Show appearance from the previous evening twice already since she’d gotten to work and could find little to use from a campaign perspective.

Colleen had apparently accomplished exactly what she’d intended by going on national television to talk about the pending bill. She’d been very specific about why she opposed the Saturday Amendment, explaining that pro-choice and pro-sex-education voters needed to understand exactly what effects the legislation would have before the House rushed it through a vote next week.

This was essentially the last piece of major business on the docket before the House adjourned prior to the election, and Colleen was taking a big risk by publicly crossing her party’s leadership and trying to pressure other progressive Democrats to do the same. If she succeeded in peeling off some of the representatives who’d pledged a “yes” vote, as well as eroding some of the public support of the bill as written, she could claim a huge victory. But either way, she’d just made a lot of very powerful enemies, many within her own caucus.

Janet came through the front door, encumbered by her enormous purse and hiding behind her trusty sunglasses. She apparently wanted to go unnoticed, not addressing anyone as she slunk by them on the way to her office. Bijal quietly stood and followed her, trying to be just as unobtrusive.

Janet tossed down her bag and glasses and threw herself into her desk chair. With a tired groan, she slowly spun to see Bijal lingering in her doorway. “Oh,” she said with a start. “Good morning, Bijal.”

“Good morning. I’d ordinarily have given you a few minutes to settle in, but I know you have a hectic schedule today, and I thought I’d get you while I could. You have a minute?”

Janet glanced at her watch. “Sure, though I don’t have much more than that. Come on in and close the door.”

Bijal did so and took the chair directly across from her. “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with over the last month or so, and that we’re running out of time to make up the ground we’ve lost.”

“But?”

“But I have a real problem with this new ad we’re running.”

Janet nodded slowly, as though she expected the contention. “I know it may not feel right,” she said.

“Because it’s not right, Janet. It’s reprehensible.”

“Look, this campaign is bigger than one thirty-second commercial, and while I certainly understand your feelings—”

“I don’t think you do understand. I was really excited to work for you. Not just because this was my big break into politics, but because you believe a lot of the things I do. You’re a moderate who opposes government overreach and inefficiencies, regardless of what may be polling well. When you and I met, you supported civil unions, and that meant a lot to me.”

“Bijal—”

“It meant a lot to me because I’m gay, Janet. I’m a lesbian.”

Janet’s red eyes were immense and unblinking. “Uh…”

“While it’s possible that you lied to me initially, you’ve now decided to endorse a statement that’s shamefully homophobic and inflammatory—one that sends a message that the LGBT community is subhuman or abnormal to the degree that children need to be shielded from us. Is that what you really think?”

“No,” Janet replied softly, appearing still somewhat stunned. “This is just politics.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s clearly more than that. I need to know if you have a problem with gays—one that impacts my job.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I any less qualified now that you know I’m a lesbian? Will I get a pay cut? Be fired?”

Janet looked mortified. “God, no, of course not! Why would you even think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I think that, Janet? You’re obviously fine with me not having equal rights. You have no issue with using me as your boogeyman du jour to frighten voters into thinking that all gays want to destroy democracy and eat the flesh of the righteous—all in the hopes that they scurry out to the polls to cast their ballot for the candidate who’ll keep them safe.”

“I’m very sorry about all this,” Janet said, her voice tinged with what sounded like a combination of depression and fatigue. “I meant it when I told you that I support civil unions. I don’t believe in discrimination of any kind.”

“Then why have you let yourself get pulled so far off-message?”

Before Janet could craft an answer, they heard a knock.

“Come in,” Janet called, making Bijal wonder if Janet was secretly thankful for the interruption.

The door swung open, revealing Kristin, wearing a rather serious expression. “Y’all need to come see this.”

“What?” Janet asked.

“O’Bannon’s camp has just issued a response to our latest ad. We’ve got it all cued up for you.”

Bijal followed Janet out to the main office area. Carl, who’d been given Ted’s old job after Eliot inexplicably fired him, was sitting at his desk, his mouse finger at the ready. “Everyone here?” he asked.

“Eliot’s not here yet,” Janet replied. “But let’s not wait for him. Go ahead.”

The rest of the staff gathered around Carl’s screen as he clicked Play. After the sponsorship message, the camera simply showed Colleen sitting, looking both stoic and beautiful.

“Hello, I’m Congressional Representative Colleen O’Bannon, incumbent candidate for Virginia’s twelfth district. I believe that a politician should run a positive campaign that focuses on what he or she stands for and will work toward. Unfortunately, my opponent is now running an attack ad that’s not only virulently homophobic, but also provably untrue, clearly intended to appeal to your emotions and your need to protect your children. I’ve asked several independent fact-checking organizations to evaluate Mayor Denton’s claims, and I encourage you to visit their websites, now displayed on the screen, to review their findings. Just as important, though, I suggest that you consider the character of an elected official who would purposefully lie in an attempt to scare people into voting for him or her. If you think you deserve honesty and transparency from your government, then demand it. Your politicians owe it to you.”

The video ended and everyone stood for a moment in silence.

“What, they didn’t play ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ in the background?” someone in the back asked.

Several people tittered nervously, perhaps too uncomfortable with the reality of Colleen’s accusations to respond any other way. Bijal locked gazes with Janet, who swallowed loudly but said nothing.

Colleen had already taken her seat on the plane scheduled to take off from Dubai and land about four-and-a-half hours later in Kabul, Afghanistan. The trip to Dubai had been long and taxing. But at least it was on a commercial aircraft. This last leg of the journey would be aboard a C-130 Hercules military transport plane—a far less luxurious ride.

“Shit,” she muttered as she recognized that she still had no signal on her BlackBerry. It was frustrating not to be able to access her e-mail. Cut off digitally from her congressional office as well as her campaign headquarters, Colleen had immersed herself in the documentation she’d brought outlining the CODEL—where they were going, who they were meeting, and what they were ultimately hoping to accomplish.

“Colleen,” someone called. Looking up, Colleen recognized the smiling face of Congressman Steve McAllister, an affable Republican from Ohio. “Of course you’re working. Why wouldn’t I have assumed that?”

“Hey, Steve. I would be working, if I could get a signal.”

“Yeah, I haven’t been able to get one either. Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Not at all. Take a load off.”

Steve slipped his carry-on bag off his shoulder and sat beside her. “The flight out of DC seemed like it lasted forever. Did you get any sleep?”

“Not enough,” Colleen replied wistfully. She had tried to nap several times during the nearly thirteen-hour flight, but her mind had been racing and wouldn’t let her relax. Even her most random ruminations somehow ended up transitioning to thoughts of Bijal. Those seemed to start out pleasant enough—the tone of her rich voice, her warm mahogany eyes, her full lips, the knee-weakening way she kissed.

Then, like a terrible boomerang of despair, somehow everything wondrous would fade into the twisted, unpleasant confines of their ugly political battle, and she was left feeling a horrible fusion of arousal and anguish. The combination was neither satisfying nor tolerable.

“How’s your election coming along?” Steve asked, little realizing the pot of viscous shit-soup he was stirring.

“From a polling perspective, fine. From a mud-slinging perspective, it completely sucks.”

Steve scoffed. “Come on, you must be sitting pretty after your opponent called the Department of Justice the ‘Justice League of America’ last week. That was hilarious. He’s a real Einstein.”

“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong Einstein. That guy’s running against Bob Gutierrez. I have the anti-gay pants-shitter as my opponent.”

Steve laughed loudly for several seconds before visibly restraining himself. “Right! How could I forget? Wait, when you say ‘antigay,’ does that mean she played the gay card on you?”

“Like a dealer in Vegas.”

“Ouch, sorry.”

It was a genuine comfort to Colleen, albeit a wee one, that Steve seemed to empathize with her. “That means a lot coming from someone who’s running unopposed, Steve,” she joked.

“Look at the bright side. At least you weren’t pretending to be straight and they outed you.”

“True, but I’m in the wrong party for that.”

Steve feigned horror. “Ooh, well, that may be, but you’re in the right party if you plan to embezzle.”

“Well, maybe someday we’ll get as good at covering up our financial irregularities as you guys are.”

Steve dipped his head discreetly, “Hey, speaking of irregularities, I flew in to Dubai with Zeller. Have you seen him yet?”

“No, why?”

“I passed him in customs. Apparently he—”

As Steve spoke, Congressman Harlan Zeller—Georgia Democrat and horse’s ass—walked onto the plane with a woman who could best be described as a truck-stop-bathroom-stall lay who was past her prime, but more than likely still smelled of diesel fuel and urine. “Harlan!” Colleen shouted, trying to diplomatically interrupt Steve’s gossip. “How are you?”

Harlan stopped in front of them, but Colleen couldn’t look away from the bleached blonde in the gold lamé miniskirt beside him. Though clearly in her mid to late forties, she still had a visible tattoo on her upper arm of Hello Kitty sitting on a toilet, melting heroin in a spoon.

“Hey there,” Harlan said. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m about as tired as a bag of beat dicks. This trip is grueling.”

Steve stood politely and extended his hand. “And is this Mrs. Zeller?”

Colleen had tried to stop Steve before the question came tumbling out of his mouth, but even humming the word no and subtly shaking her head had no effect.

“Hell, no!” Zeller cackled. “You obviously haven’t met my wife. This is my aide, Cha Cha Staines.”

Colleen and Steve were both momentarily struck mute. Was he serious? “Nice to meet you,” Colleen finally managed to say.

Cha Cha whined a wordless greeting and nodded pleasantly. It was not beyond the realm of possibility that she spoke a language other than English—or possibly no language at all.

“Go on and head on back, darlin’,” Harlan said, slapping Cha Cha playfully on her bottom. “Good Lord, honey, your jugs are out. Wrap those puppies up before any of our fine fightin’ men come onboard and want to rub ’em.”

She responded with a nasally giggle before making a futile attempt to pull at the sheer fabric of her clingy blouse. “Sorry.”

Harlan and Cha Cha shuffled to the back of the plane and sat as far away from Steve and Colleen as possible.

“Holy shit,” Colleen muttered.

“I’m glad he’s a member of your caucus,” Steve said softly.

“I’d rather not claim him, if it’s all right with you. Did he say she was named after vaginal discharge?”

Steve laughed loudly and shook his head. “Maybe.”

“What is he thinking? Why would you bring your mistress into a war zone? And what’ll happen when we get to Afghanistan? Do you think either of them have the foggiest notion of the societal restrictions on women there?”

“I’m pretty sure your boy Harlan sees this as a fun trip he can take with a”—his voice trailed off as he clearly struggled for a noun that wasn’t disparaging—“lady other than his wife.”

“In the words of every Star Wars movie, ‘I have a really bad feeling about this.’”

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14