She glanced at her watch. Five twenty-nine. “Gonna hang up now,” she said happily, feeling relieved. “I’m going to watch the local news to see if you’re as good looking on TV as you are in person.”
“The press conference was taped earlier. I’ll be by at seven to pick you up,” he assured her before hanging up.
She sat in front of the TV and turned it on. The man she was crazy about had taped a press conference and going to address the city she also loved. She suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside. If anyone could fix Detroit’s problems, Arnold could. But having dreams was one thing. Getting elected in a city where much of the population was black, was quite another. They had already elected two black mayors in succession. Could a third be far behind? And if so, what chance did the Caucasian Arnold have? There had been ongoing suggestions in Detroit of police brutality toward young black males, just as there had been in the rest of the country. Many people thought that a black mayor was better equipped to deal with such issues, whereas a white mayor might be somewhat out of touch.
Arnold’s face was suddenly front and center on her TV screen. But she was both shocked and dismayed by the lack of black faces that he had assembled to be his initial lection team. The three fledgling staff around him at the mike where all white. She frowned. It was one thing to vote for a white guy who was influenced by black advisors. But it was quite another to vote for a white guy surrounded with white advisors. She decided in her heart of hearts that Arnold needed a very stiff talking to.
XXX
“I really like this restaurant,” Marg whispered, reaching across the table to clasp his outstretched hand. “But you’re going to need every penny here on in for the campaign trail. Sometimes, eating at a much cheaper greasy spoon, or fiery hot spicy Caribbean mom and pop can be a blast of fun.”
“About that,” Arnold said, his countenance changing for the worse. “Daryl, my brother and number one fan, says that our present mayor will try to hang onto his job by stressing a ‘return to family values.’ The other challenger, Nevil Johnston, has already declared his platform. His slogan is ‘a job for everyone.’ I’m kind of late out of the gate and being boxed in.”
A fear began to creep over her. She was smart enough to know that politics was a game of perception, and that votes were where you found them. A lot of Detroit’s citizens were upset with the present mayor David Dodds, and his record of raising taxes while frittering away the city’s money on projects that were ill-advised and counter-productive. It was also obvious that the mayor had fudged the numbers to make it appear as though his programs had been both cost effective and wildly successful. Still, regardless of the present mayor’s shortcomings, he was black, and he understood only too well the issues facing the city. Police brutality against black men…half the city’s inner core rotting in decay…a hundred thousand stray dogs taking over the city…high unemployment and a skyrocketing crime rate that was amongst the highest in the whole damn country. On the flip side of the coin, however, Arnold was prepared to argue that for a man who supposedly understood the city so well, so very little had been done to address the problems. Arnold’s platform of change was going to emphasize that David’s programs hadn’t worked then and couldn’t work now, and that a newer fresher approach was what was needed.
The good news for both men was that the other challenger, Nevil, was touting a platform that while catchy, seemed so very unrealistic. A job for everybody? Just how in the hell was he going to accomplish that?
Still, for all of Arnold’s bravado, and all of David’s bluster, the fact remained that citizens were liable to make the campaign about whatever the politicians decided it should be about. The economic platforms, once tried and tested stalwarts in any election campaign, were bound to fall ironically by the way side. Nobody really believed there was anything any damn mayor could do about the shocking problems facing the city. The State of Michigan was stepping in to take over the city’s finances and to try and reign in the horrific debt load crushing the sea of red ink on their pathetic books. They had lost over a third of their revenues to fleeing businesses, and another fifteen per cent to boarded up, dilapidated homes whose present unemployed owners could no longer afford land taxes or out of touch mortgages. All told, a fifty percent gutting of their tax base was not just something a city could walk away from unscathed. There were going to be heavy casualties, and David Dodd’s assertion that Detroit should undertake ‘a return to family values,’ a stroke of genius in that it clouded the harsh realities while giving drowning citizens something to cling to. The suggestion that the economy, standard of living, and quality of life would all bounce back if family values were to strengthen was a gamble that was bound to pay off to some degree. And Arnold’s anticipated hat tossing into the ring didn’t do anything to put a damper on the present mayor’s re-election plans.
“My brother Daryl feels that my lack of a wife might hurt me.”
Marg could feel her temperature rise and her heart thump like crazy. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? It was then and there she realized she was actually over the moon for him. To even consider marrying a man after dating for only two weeks seemed tenuous at best, even if she had of known him from way before that. But if he was going to ask her, she was definitely going to say yes. Hot guys were always plentiful, but hot guys like Arnold were few and far between. She was determined to keep her marriage minded fingers continually wrapped around his giant cock until he finally gave up.
“Tell me more,” she said, trying to prod him to elaborate.
He continued. “The fact I was divorced and had no children will give David’s campaign slogan more traction. Suddenly, I become the target while he surrounds himself on stage with a wife of thirty years, and six kids with over twenty grand kids. That gives voters a warm and fuzzy feeling inside.”
A strange feeling began to take hold of Marg. He was only spitting words out without actually bringing her into the picture. She sought more clarity. “Are you saying that you and I dating might be negative aspect to your campaign?”
“Could be,” he answered honestly. “But while dating a single gal and losing points on the family side, I could score a lot of points with you on my arm on the racial side. There are definitely more plusses to having a black woman on my team than on the sidelines.”
An excitement began to brew within her. She felt like she was on a roller coaster, one minute in danger of losing him, and the next becoming an asset to him.
Still, the clarity was not in focus. She wanted a much clearer picture of his intentions. “Speaking of race, you do know don’t you, that all of your current election team is white. Most of those voting will be black. It makes it seem that you are not even making an effort to-”
“That’s why I’d like you to take over as my campaign manager.”
His words floored her. It wasn’t exactly the marriage proposal she was day dreaming about, but it was a powerful nudge in the right direction. She felt she must mean the world to him and have his uttermost confidence for him to give her such a vital role. Was he serious?
“Say again?”
“You heard me hon. I think you should take over as my campaign manager. My brother Daryl said he would run my campaign but only if I couldn’t find someone else suitable, but I think you’d be perfect for the job.”
His words floored her. Could a marriage proposal be far behind? Or was she just becoming the queen of wishful thinking. At any rate, she knew she needed to play along. Some men were adamant about doing things in steps. “Wow. Just like that? You really think I’m qualified?”
“Actually,” he said, “it will kill two birds with one stone. It will give visibility to my efforts to represent the black community and to hear their voices. It will also give us the opportunity to either hide our relationship, or use it to our advantage. A campaign manager is supposed to be around her candidate 24/7, mapping out strategy, and so reporters and everyday people won’t find it strange if you are
always around, or staying at my place or staying at hotels with me.”
She displayed a mock frown. “You’re still not saying whether or not you think I’m qualified. I never even went to college. As for having me around, perhaps as your girlfriend as well, you’re not saying you’re ashamed of me, are you?”
“Not at all. But realities are realities. Women voters might cast a ballot based on who is more of a family man and who looks like less of a hustler. But college is overrated. Detroit is filled right now with college grads who can’t get a job to save their lives. Still, me having a girlfriend might make me look like some kind of hustler. We might have to hide our sexual relationship. Voter’s expectations are often unrealistic and woefully unfair.”
“You’re hardly a hustler. So far you’ve been the man of my dreams.” She tried to manufacture a sparkle in her eyes to aid her message, hopeful he would take the bait.
“And we could play that angle,” he reciprocated. “The point is, that there would always be a black face at my side and it would belong there because you would be my campaign manager. That would take care of the race issue and might hide the fact we are sleeping together.”
His casually tossed word ‘might’ got stuck in her ears. She was suddenly desperate for him to confirm that their courting relationship would not be put on ice, but would rather continue unabated. “I’d prefer honesty, but since nobody but my immediate family really knows I’m dating you, then yes, maybe we should keep it that way. We can still continue to be intimate, but of course in secret and no one would be the wiser. Our relationship would continue to grow and I would have a paying job, finally and you would have a slice of the black vote because your manager would be black.”
“Exactly.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. Still, secrets had a way of being exposed. If they were caught having an open relationship, that would put more pressure on him to make such a relationship permanent if there were to be a voter backlash. “Except, you know what they say. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong,” she said, seeking clarification.
“Campaigns rarely work out the way they’re supposed to,” Arnold said, agreeing with her assessment. “I’m prepared for whatever comes my way.”
“In that case, maybe we should make our dating public from the onset. You don’t want to give the appearance of dishonesty if they should find out about us later on.”
“Still,” he answered, the tone of his voice almost protesting.“Some may think I only gave you the job because we’re lovers. That might give David ammunition to smear me in his family values campaign, and make me look like I’d give city jobs to friends, girlfriends and family if I won.”
“I see your point. Well, for now we can keep it a secret unless and until someone with a big mouth finds out about us. Then we can always cross that bridge when we come to it. Of course, there is a third alternative. As I hinted at earlier, we could get married. That would change the dynamics of the whole campaign altogether. Get you off the hook where being wild and single was concerned, and put you on the bandwagon where family values was concerned.”
Her words floored him. He turned to face her and let his hands rest on her shoulders. Her fork had been toying with her dessert. She dropped her fork and let her hands rest encouragingly on his arms. Then she let him kiss her softly and gaze into her big brown eyes. She held her breath as he started to speak.
“Nothing would please me more than being married to such a special and attractive woman as you. You have so much love to give and are so charming and fun to be with. But our relationship is just starting out. We need to give it more time. The next time I get married, I want it to be for life, and I want it to be with someone I adore, trust and love. You easily fit all those requirements. But I think it is way too soon. Couples can get married anytime. That’s the easy part. Messy divorces later on is the hard part. I think dating a girl for at least six months before proposing is something I’m more comfortable with.”
“Are you saying you don’t think we’d make it as a married couple?” she said, almost angrily, trying not to show contempt for his reasoning. She was now in anguish. She had done it to herself again, fallen head over heels for some guy who was going to use her to get elected as mayor, but after that? After that??? She began to kick herself in earnest. Why hadn’t she listened more to her intuitive younger sister? And why hadn’t she guarded her wayward heart more carefully and craftily?
“Not saying we wouldn’t make a good couple. The truth is we make a great couple,” he whispered tactfully. “In fact, I think we’d make the perfect married couple. But it is just so soon in the relationship to be sure. We need, as I said, more time.Good things come to those that wait. And don’t forget. I’m growing to be so head over heels in love with you that I couldn’t leave you if I tried.”
Marg smiled. Honesty and being reassuring were two of his strong suits. His assertion that he could never leave her was like a life preserver tossed at a drowning woman. If they ever did get married, she knew he’d be a keeper.
“As to your platform?”
“Pardon? A platform?”
She stared at Arnold incredulously. Then she read him the riot act. “Don’t tell me you were all so fired ready to make such a rookie political mistake such as only responding to what other candidates have to say? You need to have your own agenda. You know, an intriguing, common sense platform for the voters of Detroit that makes sense to them and that they can resonate with. What would you do if you became mayor? And most importantly of all. How would you pay for it? What programs would be a priority to you and what programs would you let slide to the back burner. You need to be able to explain how the city might be able to afford your initiatives, after all, that’s what made Detroit bankrupt in the first place, so much wild politicians making off the cuff, expensive promises that they didn’t have a clue as to how they would pay for such things.”
He stared at her keenly. She was beginning to sound like she would become a real asset to him, although he had no illusions that campaigns were sometimes not so much won or lost not on bread and butter issues, but rather on matters of perception. Who, for example, could be the most politically correct? Who could tap into an issue that would steal the hearts and minds of lethargic, uncaring voters? And most important of all, who could master the art of giving fifteen second sound bites to news outlets that could make or break a campaign as they aired those sound bites to a million municipal voters. Campaign slogans could also be of tantamount importance, but they had to be able to weather storms and last the length of any campaign. What might have sounded catchy and uplifting during the first few weeks of a campaign, might sound tired, old and too stale to support by the time the end of a campaign rolled around. Politicians had to be savvy from the very beginning. You didn’t always get to roll with the punches. Campaign signs with such slogans were printed before campaigns began, and could rarely be changed later on. Advertising space with those same slogans being said and shown could not be altered once sent in to the advertisers. Often times it was a case of get it right in the beginning, or sink and don’t swim at the end.
“What would you do if you were me?” he asked.
“First of all, I would start by recognizing that a lot of unemployed men have moved out of Detroit looking for other work. Over sixty percent of the remaining voters are women and they are facing some real hard challenges. I would focus my campaign on women’s issues. That is kind of what David, your opponent is doing, except he is cheating, trying to burn the candle at both ends. By using the theme of family values, he is speaking to the male white voter as well as the white suburban female voter, then hoping blacks will all pile on because he is, after all, black himself.”
“Any ideas on possible campaign slogans?”
“I think a good campaign slogan for your campaign would be ‘women matter.’ What do you think about that?”
He sighed and shook his head from side to side. “You think it would be wise for me, as a whi
te middle aged, middle class male to lecture poorer, younger, black women on what should matter to them?”
“Normally no. But as your campaign manager, I could be your PR lady. And I could push it for you. Most mayors have PR reps that do a lot of press work while their candidates are out shaking hands and kissing babies. In other words, you meet the people and I’ll meet the press. That way, what viewers and voters will see on the media is not just a white guy, but a black girl as well.”
“Interesting, although if it backfires, we could be looking at not being able to recover, especially if our advertising budget is small.”
“Fund raising will be of tantamount importance,” she said, agreeing with his assessment. “It will play nicely to a lot of contributors the fact you have chosen a woman to run your campaign, and as well, a black. If someone thinks you are savvy and have a good chance of winning, they are more likely to write you a check. And you know how important it will be to raise a ton of money.”
“Absolutely. Without money for hard hitting, effective ads, we would be sailing upstream at best, or merely dead in the water at worst.”
She paused for a moment as she studied his face. He was very cute and extremely gorgeous. She was also definitely deeply in love with him, far too deeply for her own good. She had taken the plunge and was now in over her head.She was desperate to cling to his words that they would make a great married couple. They both knew that they complimented each other so well, were both sexy, attractive and wildly quick witted. They seemed to think so much alike that it was almost scary. Still, it irked her that he had so summarily dismissed her notion that they get married if only for appearances sake to help his campaign. He had thrown up a brick wall at that idea. She hadn’t really expected him to buy into the idea per se, especially since they had only met weeks ago, although they did have a professional history extending well beyond that time frame. The speed and tenacity with which he vetoed the thought was somewhat worrisome. Her younger sister had warned her about the dangers of getting in far too deep far too early, and yet, that was exactly what she had done, tossed herself into his lap as though he were the last man on earth. She sighed. It was therefore not surprising that he might be taking her for granted. She felt she needed to push the envelope.
As Time Goes By: A BWWM Interracial Romance Page 4