by Beth Fred
I search until I find cleaning supplies and wrap the suits in a large trash bag to keep them dry. I shuffle around his drawers for socks and underwear and shove them into a smaller bag. My last step is to pick up a safe from the closet. It’s too heavy. There is no way I can carry it back to the hotel.
I text Eric.
Emergency vote in forty-eight hours. Will make travel arrangements as soon as I know your availability. Townhouse has flood damage. Rescued and packed two suits. If you give me the code to the safe, I’ll take the needed documents and call the insurance for repairs.
It’s hours before I get his reply.
Eric: You are awesome. Thank you. Meet you at the hotel.
Chapter 25
Eric
“Come with me,” I say.
“I’ve got to be here to meet with the insurance representative so we can get your apartment in order.”
“Call him and tell him the senator needs you in DC so you’ll have to do it by phone. If he needs to see the damages, I can have someone let him in.”
“If campus re-opens, I’ll go to class too.”
“It’s going to be a few days before school opens. I’ll take care of the insurance. Come with me. Please?” The city is in shambles. It’s not safe for her to stay here by herself. But it’s not just that. I’ve only ever begged one other woman to be with me, and I swore I’d never do it again. But I want Mandy near me.
On the plane, I tell her, “You know, you’re probably going to miss some classes. We’ll need you on the campaign trail.”
She takes a drink from the little plastic cup and sets it back on her tray. “I know. But I don’t see a point in missing more than necessary. You know why I agreed to this. Missing too much class seems counterproductive.”
“I know. We’ll make sure you’re there for really important stuff. I promise.” And I will make sure she graduates, because somehow Mandy’s basket-weaving degree is as important as this election.
***
A week later, we’re sitting in the airport waiting to board. We’re an hour early. A large screen TV occupies the wall. CNN’s blonde anchor has plenty of commentary. If she’s as smart as she thinks she is, maybe I should hire her.
“Martinez pulled ahead of Simpleton in polls briefly. But his marriage to Senator Jack Buchanan’s daughter and the storms in the southwest region overpowered the news of her controversial comments. He failed to really capitalize on that, and Simpleton is up in the polls again. Although some Democrats, myself included, still plan to vote for Martinez because Simpleton scares us so badly.”
A white guy sitting across from the blonde anchor scratches his beard. “The Never Simpleton Democrats. Right, but they’re such a minority of the party that they aren’t going to matter.”
Blondie frowns. “You’re probably right. But I’m disappointed Martinez didn’t make more of an effort to even the playing field after the outlandish things she said.”
Oh my God. I flew across the country to vote for funding for traumatized areas. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to come on TV and criticize Kourtney Simpleton. Are people really so stupid they need me to tell them what to think about her rhetoric?
Mandy must sense my tension. She slides a hand over the nape of my neck and runs it through my hair. “It’s okay. We can still capitalize on it.”
“How? It’s old news.”
She smiles. “We need to remind people about it, and if you’re up for some really bad YouTube videos, I have an idea.”
Mandy and I stay up all night scouring for some of the stupidest things Simpleton says on her reality TV show Really Real. And when Mandy has the footage she thinks she wants, she splices a video. The whole thing takes one all-nighter, but I’m shocked to see a completed ad by morning.
“How did you do that?”
She laughs. “I took a film class as part of my broadcast journalism curriculum for undergrad.”
“You are amazing.”
“I’m going to accidentally send this to both Never Simpleton and Republican Super PACs today. You’ll be up in the polls again by midnight.”
There is no new poll before midnight, but I wake up in the morning to pundits talking about how my new ad has sparked controversy, has Simpleton responding, and reminds the world of her racist remarks a couple of weeks ago.
Chapter 26
Mandy
Getting our video off to Super PACS is seriously no big deal. I grew up the daughter of a well-known senator who still gets controversial when he thinks it will seal a vote. But the past couple of weeks have been exhausting.
I hit send on the email and pass out.
Six hours later, I come to, shower, pull on yoga pants and a tank top, and go downstairs where the living room of our rented condo is. It’s going to be a while before the townhouse is ready.
A guy in a black button-down shirt and black slacks is sitting backward in a chair like some Starbucks hipster.
Eric stands in front of him reading from index cards. He’s practicing a speech. I stay far enough from the threshold that Eric, in all of his concentration, can’t see me, but I can still see him.
“And why don’t you think insurance companies should have to pay for abortion?” Hipster kid asks.
“We live in a country founded on religious freedom. No one should have to pay for something they don’t believe in.”
“Stick to the script,” Hipster says.
“But they say I’m inauthentic,” Eric says.
Hipster takes a drink from a steaming mug. “Stick to the script.”
Eric glances down at the index card. “Medical insurance is for verifiable medical needs. It was never intended to alleviate us of our decisions.”
I’m ready to slap the hipster. I know how this is going to go over. I’m not really pro-choice except in cases of death to the mother and rape, and I am ready to slap this guy. Eric struggles with women voters anyway.
I cross the threshold into the living room. I point to Hipster. “You’re fired.” I turn to Eric. “You’re dumb.”
Eric’s face tightens. “Amanda, you can’t come in here and fire my staff because they say something you don’t like. This is my career.”
I put my hand on my hip. “Yeah. And if I learned one thing from my parents, I’m half of that career. But if you want to trust your ‘professional’ speechwriter over me, go for it. I’ll stay out of this. Comments like that will really help you with women.”
“I’m anti-abortion. I’m a Republican. You knew that when you married me. Get over it.”
“So if having an abortion is going to keep me from dying, my insurance shouldn’t have to pay for it? If a girl is raped on her way home from church, she shouldn’t have an abortion? Because she didn’t actually make a decision there. I’m not saying lie, but you have to come across as respectful and well thought out. If this kid has been writing everything you’ve said, I can see why you continue to trail with women in spite of running against the absolute stupidest person in the world who does her own part to send women back to the 50s. You know she was Ms. New Jersey in the 60s, right?”
Eric says to the kid, “I’ll still pay you for your contract, but I’m going to have to listen to my wife on this.”
Hipster stands. “You married a real ballbuster.”
I turn to face him. “And you’re going to be a real ladies’ man!”
Hipster leaves. I hold my hand out to Eric. “Give me the index cards.”
It’s another all-nighter. I write all the anticipated questions on a blank sheet of notebook paper and set to work phrasing answers that can be true to Eric, or at least not a lie, while walking a middle line.
Once I know they sound strong without an iron fist, we start drilling them. He’s continuously scrutinized the same way he has been. But his rehearsed sound bites please the reporters and the powers that be.
We start on the campaign trail doing town halls and holding press conferences. Our crowds grow. People are respond
ing better to Eric, and he’s up in the polls, including with women voters.
A campaign rally in San Francisco goes better than it’s supposed to. It doesn’t end until after 10:00 p.m., and the crowd stays past eleven. I’m talking to a lady named Rosemary and her friends about a sale at Dillard’s when Eric comes up behind me, closing his arms around me. “We have an early morning, sweetheart.”
I smile at him. “But our friends aren’t ready leave.”
He places a kiss on the crown of my head. “We should probably get you to the motorcade. It’s a long flight to Cleveland.”
He takes my hand but leads me past the motorcade. A man in a tuxedo is waiting to pull open the door of a pink limousine. Eric helps me in.
I laugh. “Pink?”
He sits down beside me and pulls me half into his lap, closing his arms around me again. “Your favorite color.” He picks up my hand and kisses the diamond he put on my finger. With his strong arms around me and the dimple in his cheek, he’s too adorable. I lean up and brush my lips against his. He takes it as an invitation, and my peck turns into a sensuous kiss. I moan his name then turn red and bury my head in his chest.
He kisses my hair. “It’s fine. It’s just us.”
“The driver,” I whisper.
“I won’t kiss you again until we’re really alone.” He’s quiet for a second. “You make it hard not to, though.” He strokes my hair with his hand. “Would you like a glass of champagne? I made sure the limo was stocked with non-alcoholic choices.”
I lean back. “How did you know I don’t drink?”
He shrugs. “You’re Baptist. I’ve also been watching you at campaign events. You go for punch or water every time.”
“I drank a few times in college,” I admit.
“But you don’t now, and I wanted you to have what you would like.”
I lay my head down on him again. His arms tighten around me.
The limo drives us outside of town to a Spanish mission. A stone chapel with a small rose garden in front. The driver opens the door for us. Eric climbs out then helps me out. He leads me behind the rose garden to where a picnic blanket is spread out with twinkle candles around the edges and a basket of chocolate-covered strawberries in the middle.
My voice catches in my throat. “Eric?”
He claps his hand, and slow music starts to play. “Amanda Martinez, I love you more than life. I—I didn’t go about starting a marriage the right way, but you walked into that room that day for a reason.” He grabs me and holds me to him. “I’m glad I found you,” he whispers.
“Me too, Eric. Me too.”
Chapter 27
Mandy
A few weeks later is the first debate. It ends in a dead heat. Simpleton sticks with her insane rhetoric and at one point even dances across the stage singing “I’m Too Sexy.” Some of us backstage worry she’ll take her shirt off. Given the circumstances, things should go well for Eric, but he comes across too rehearsed.
Three weeks after that, it’s time for the second debate.
My heart pounds so hard, you would think it was my debate. My election. Eric needs this, and I want it for him. He really thinks he can make life better for most of the country and change the world. And somehow, I’m part of this.
But the polls are so close, tonight is make or break. I take a deep breath and release it. Eric, you can do this.
The moderator runs a hand through his white-blond hair. His pale eyes shine against his navy suit. He picks up an index card from the table and says into the microphone, “Senator Martinez, if elected president, would you overturn Roe v. Wade?”
I exhale in relief. This question comes up every election cycle. He has to be prepared.
Eric stares the moderator in the eye, clenched jaw, strong face, so powerful my pulse speeds up again for a different reason. “Day one.”
Okay. He has to have more than that. Eric is an attorney. He understands checks and balances. He knows one man shouldn’t have the power to overturn the freakin’ Supreme Court. I wait for the explanation.
“You would?” Andrew Smith sits up in his chair.
“Abortion is murder. Life is protected by the law, and in a Martinez presidency, this loophole will end. Day one.”
Simpleton cuts in. “So you would force a thirteen year old who had been raped to deliver a baby?”
Eric turns to face her. “No. But I would require parental permission.”
Simpleton’s stature grows taller. She smirks. “What if her dad raped her?”
For the first time during a campaign event, Eric loses his cool. “Then she has bigger problems than a self-mutilating surgical murder is going to solve.”
Simpleton grins. “You might feel differently if you were a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“We have to go to commercial break,” Andrew says into the microphone, “but stay tuned. This debate just got interesting.”
I come out of my corner and walk onto the stage with a security guard following me.
“Mrs. Martinez, you have to stay back here.”
I ignore him and make my way to Eric.
Andrew Smith leaps from his table and appears behind me. “Campaign staff is not allowed on stage until the debate is over.”
I throw up my left hand. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t staff. Thank you for the information, though.” Which is total crap. I’m technically on Eric’s payroll.
Eric grins. “Andrew, my wife obviously needs something.”
“I’m sorry, Senator. Make it quick. We’re back on in two.” Andrew retreats to his table.
Eric smiles at me with smoldering eyes.
My lips begin to curve, and heat pumps under my cheeks. Reflex. Stay stern, Mandy. Stay stern. “Are you trying to hand that psychopath this election?”
Eric’s smile turns into a clenched jaw complete with a crease in his forehead. “What are you talking about? Amanda, you know I’m a Republican. Get over it, and get behind it.”
“OMG. I’m behind it. I’m supporting a freakin’ Republican for the first time in my life. And I’m behind you one hundred percent. Why do you think I dodged a security guard to talk to you? Whatever your opinion is doesn’t matter. Men aren’t allowed to have an opinion on abortion.”
“But—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me. If you want to win, listen to me.”
“Simpleton has an opinion.”
“Which coincides with the feminists’ opinion. You can’t have an opinion. If you take the feminist opinion, you alienate your base, and if you take the opinion of your base, you’re going to be called a misogynistic pig.”
“Thirty seconds,” Andrew calls.
I lean up on my toes and swipe my lips across Eric’s cheek. “Tone it down,” I whisper before disappearing behind the curtains again.
After the debate, Eric comes behind the curtain and tucks me under his arm. He holds me tighter than usual, and his palm is moist against my arm. I gaze up at him. His rough night is obvious in his expression. I lean up and kiss him on the cheek. Cameras click. Of course.
Eric grabs me, pulling me closer. His lips crush to mine like he doesn’t care about the cameras. His hand slides down my back.
I pull away. “Eric.”
He leans in and whispers, “I’m sorry.” He straightens up again, leaves an arm draped around me, and says, “Let’s go.”
We take two steps toward the entrance before a reporter shoves a microphone in his face. “Senator Martinez, how do you feel about the debate tonight?”
“Fine. Most Americans don’t want babies chopped up in factories,” he says.
Dumbass, I told you to tone it down.
“So you’re not worried about any kind of fallout from taking such a strong stance?” the reporter asks.
“No. I’ll be president in a few months, and this was just another stopping point along the way.” His body is too tense for him to mean that.
“You’re a newlywed. Are you sure you want that kind of r
esponsibility?”
“I—” Eric begins, but I cut him off.
“Why does that matter?”
“Mrs. Martinez, I’m sure you’re aware the first thing he did after a tumultuous debate tonight was passionately kiss his new wife.”
“My husband is running with the family values party. His views might get extreme when he thinks he’s protecting someone who can’t protect themselves, but I think every woman in America would be lucky to have a husband who comes in after work and kisses her without fear of who is there to see it. And we haven’t had a president like that in a long time. I know you’re with the first amendment party, so please respect my speech when I say you’re rude and a jerk. Now if you would kindly get your microphone away from us, my husband has a sixteen-hour day tomorrow. Thanks.” I wave to the camera.
Eric’s arm tightens around me, and he chuckles. “Good talking to you,” he says.
Chapter 28
Eric
“Well, we know he likes at least one woman,” some old reporter with cropped hair says on the TV. Her face fades out as they cut to the clip of me grabbing Mandy and kissing her again.
I turn the TV off. “Did—did I embarrass you?”
Mandy puts down her book and shakes her head. “No.” Her answer isn’t defensive, but there is more in her voice than just no.
“But?”
“I think I’m worried about you.”
“You think?”
“Well, I guess the things you said tonight aren’t all that different than your usual position, but you haven’t sounded that harsh in so long. And then the way you kissed me after it was over, it was almost like it was personal.”
It was personal all right. “You knew I was anti-abortion when you married me. Tell me you’re not pro-abortion.” I admire her concern for the environment even though I don’t find it pressing, but I can’t accept her willingness to kill a baby.