Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  “No, not at all,” I said, standing up. “Good morning.”

  “Morning, Michael,” Trish said. It was all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing. “You’re always welcome here. I need to get going though.” As she walked out of the room, she added, “And I know you’re not here to see me anyway.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Michael

  I froze for a moment. It seemed that I’d been caught at something. Trish had me figured out. Before I thought about how it would sound, I replied, “I’m actually here to talk about the amendment. I just spoke with the leadership. They changed their mind about the week’s schedule. They’re moving the bill to the floor this week instead of next.”

  “Should you really be disclosing such secret Republican information?” Trish smiled.

  “Trish,” Jessie warned. “I don’t think the floor schedule is really secret.”

  “Well, we’re hearing it from him first rather than getting an email.” Trish shrugged. “Go ahead and tell Jessie. She’ll tell me what I need to do for the amendment, and we’ll start whipping the Dems.”

  “Okay…” I said.

  Jessie watched as Trish walked out of the room and left the door ajar. She then turned to me and smiled. “So what evil plot have your people hatched this week?”

  “My people?” I laughed.

  “Okay. Maybe I should say your party.”

  “That sounds so much better.”

  “I’m just joking.”

  “Sure you are…” I folded my arms across my chest. “Shouldn’t you be happy to have a friend who actually knows what’s going on around here? You’re not just hanging out with the powerless Dems—sort of the blind leading the blind.”

  “Hey, that was low, and it’s a good thing Trish didn’t hear you say that.”

  “I bet. Anyway, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just reminding you of who’s in power and can get things done.” I smirked. “Besides, you started it.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry for that.” She motioned toward the sofa. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s pretty simple. I gave the majority leader a call this morning to get an update.” I followed her to the sofa and settled near her. It wasn’t quite as close as last night, but it was closer than usual.

  Jessie seemed to notice it, but she simply smiled. “So did you tell him you’d be offering our amendment?”

  “Of course. I don’t want to get crosswise with those guys, even though they knew it was coming.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much. ‘Fine’ was all he said, and he reiterated that they wouldn’t whip the vote against our amendment.”

  “Good.”

  “So I figured we could get Trish and Jeff together to come up with our whip lists and then start making calls and hunting down our swing votes.”

  “That sounds good. When do you think the amendment will come up?”

  “Wednesday or Thursday. We’re going to have some late nights this week.”

  “Whatever happened to all that Republican family values crap? All these late night votes aren’t very family friendly.”

  I laughed. “You’re terrible. Maybe it’s because a Republican Congress also gets a little bit of work done. We’re not like you Democrats taking recesses all the time, so you can go on trade junkets to Paris.”

  “Where do you get this crap?” Jessie cackled.

  “Oh, tell me it’s not true.”

  “It’s not! And even if it were, at least Democrats work on recess, unlike Republicans who spend the whole time golfing at private country clubs.”

  I stretched out my legs. “Don’t be ridiculous. And I hate golf, by the way.”

  “A Republican who hates golf? Especially someone from a family like yours? How is that possible? Isn’t it in your DNA?”

  “You are incorrigible. I told you a while ago I like to climb.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Jessie admitted begrudgingly. Then I noticed a glint in her eye. “You even mentioned a place I knew of—and that means you actually know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not so bad, am I?” It came out sounding far more serious than I intended.

  “No…” she replied with uneasiness in her voice. She bit her lip and said under her breath, “You’re not bad at all.”

  There was more silence as we stared at one another. I swore just looking at Jessie unhinged me. If I could only kiss her, I was sure that I’d want to kiss her more. Eventually, I said in a low voice, “I had a nice time last night.”

  “I did, too.”

  “I was thinking that maybe since we’re going to be working so much this week that we could grab dinner one night.” I shifted in my seat, hoping she would allow this little bit of connection.

  “Maybe we could go tonight.” I caught the slight wink.

  ~~~

  That evening, I absentmindedly tapped my foot in excitement as I waited for Jessie in what was a fairly vacant restaurant. The lack of patrons wasn’t a statement on the food. It was one of my favorites, but I knew a hole-in-the-wall in Chinatown wasn’t going to be busy on a Monday night. I also chose it because it was far away from our congressional colleagues. Even if we did happen to be spotted together, it was the perfect location to have a private meal without causing a stir. After all, who would go to a place with the ambiance of a high school cafeteria for a romantic dinner?

  When Jessie walked through the door, I stood to greet her as I would any other member of Congress—I shook her hand. She said hello and laughed. As we sat she said, “Are we back to the handshaking stage?”

  “Only in public.” I smiled and waited a beat before adding, “For now.”

  I loved saying stuff like that to her because of her reactions. She’d get a stunned look for a second, smile, and then quickly divert her attention to something else. In this case, it was the menu. As she scanned the hundreds of items, she said, “I just got word that Abernathy will speak when we offer the amendment.”

  “Really? That’s great. It was already great to have his vote. How did you get him to agree to speak in favor of it?”

  “A little horse trading.” She shifted in her seat with self-satisfaction. “I offered to work his collective bargaining rights amendment.”

  I couldn’t hide my disgust at giving unions any more power than they already had. The thought made my stomach turn. “Now why did you have to tell me that? I want to win this vote, but I’d much rather limit collective bargaining than pass this amendment.”

  “Well, that’s what you get for working with a Democrat.” She smirked and shook her head. “Though I don’t even want to know what sort of things you’ve agreed to in order to drum up votes.”

  “Oh, nothing that would offend you too much.” I chuckled. “You don’t really care about funding for the arts, do you?”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re a musician. How can you possibly support cutting funds for the NEA?”

  “We don’t need a National Endowment for the Arts. Government shouldn’t be involved in choosing what art is good enough to be seen or heard. Let the private sector make those choices.”

  “Since the fall of communism, the art scene in Russia and the former Soviet-bloc countries has really dwindled. We need government funding to spur on innovation.”

  The waiter arrived with pen in hand, and after he had left with our orders, I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Congresswoman Clark, are you suggesting America needs to be more like the Soviet Union? Are you a communist sympathizer?”

  Waving her hand dismissively, she rolled her eyes. “Okay. So that was a bad argument, but you know what I mean. Do you really only want art that’s tame enough to be funded by Chevron and a bunch of rich people?”

  “Of course not, but I’d like even less for taxpayer dollars to fund something that is best left to the private sector.”

  Jessie grinned. “We could go round and round on this for hours, couldn’t we?”<
br />
  “Yes, we could,” I answered, returning her smile. “On almost any subject.”

  “It’s sort of fun, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I was just about to flirt a little more, but I made a quick glance around the restaurant to make sure we were alone. That’s when I noticed Chuck Benjamin being seated at a table not far away. Chuck was a key political reporter for The Washington Post, known for his old-style shoe-leather journalism. In a day when some journalists considered Twitter as a credible source and rushed to report, Chuck took his time investigating stories. The man even looked old-school, wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt with a wrinkled tie, loose at his neck.

  Catching Jessie’s eye, I raised a finger and motioned toward Chuck. “Look who’s here.”

  Jessie looked across the room and nodded in recognition. She said quietly, “I’ve never met him before.”

  “I’ve only met him once. It was with my father a few years ago at the Republican National Convention.”

  I watched as the frumpy, gray-haired reporter read the menu, tracing his pinky finger under every line as if he was carefully considering each ingredient. After a moment, he must’ve sensed the attention being paid to him. His eyes rose over his bifocals, and he peered at the two of us. “Good evening,” he said with a smile.

  “Good evening, Mr. Benjamin.” Jessie smiled also.

  I stood and walked the few steps to offer my hand. “Hello, Mr. Benjamin. I’m Michael Grath. We met a few years ago. I believe.”

  “Yes, of course I remember you, Congressman.” Chuck grinned and shook my hand. “I hope you’re well, and please call me Chuck.” He nodded toward Jessie. “I don’t want to interrupt your meeting with the congresswoman. I know you two have a lot of work to do this week with your amendment.”

  “It is a busy week,” Jessie said. The warmth in her voice showed her appreciation for being recognized, and she raised her eyebrows at me.

  I understood her silent communication. A dinner with a reporter like Chuck Benjamin could yield us information we would never otherwise receive. Critical gossip often slipped over a meal. I pointed to our table. “We’ve been talking shop for a while now. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

  “Oh, thank you, but don’t mind me. I’ll let you two be.”

  “Please. We’d love the company,” Jessie said, gesturing to an empty chair at our table. “There’s only so much we can talk about work.”

  “Well, I understand that. Then I’d happy to join you,” he said and picked up his glass. As we walked back to the table, Chuck laughed. “Talking shop all the time was one of the downfalls of my marriage. My wife couldn’t stand it, and looking back, I can’t blame her. I was a total bore. That is why I eat my dinners at places like this.”

  “I sincerely doubt you could ever be a bore,” Jessie said.

  “You’ll see tonight,” he quipped.

  Chuck proved to be anything but boring. Over the course of dinner, he told political war stories, and we loved hearing his take on what was going on in the world from the view of a passionate, yet objective observer. As the dinner wound down, his eyes shifted between Jessie and me as if he was sizing us up. After taking a sip of beer, he asked, “So how’s your amendment coming along?”

  I glanced at Jessie, asking if she wanted to answer the question or if I should. She responded by smiling at Chuck. “Good… so far, but as you know, things can change.”

  Chuck nodded with a smile. I stared at him, hoping he might decide to give us some of his stash of inside information.

  Jessie took the direct route and asked, “How do you think it’s going, Chuck? Do you have any thoughts on it?”

  “I think you’ve summed it up pretty well,” he answered, leaning back in his seat.

  “Once the leadership said they wouldn’t whip the vote, the momentum has definitely been with you on this amendment. But I wonder if you’ve peaked too soon?”

  “Peaked too soon?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

  Chuck commented as if we all knew, but of course only he did. “It’s just that the opposition is now forming,”

  “You mean other than the ones we already know about?” Jessie asked. “Of course, all the old military hawks oppose any kind of tampering with the Defense Department’s budget.”

  “Add the Administration to the list,” Chuck said. He loosened his tie which seemed to signal he knew he’d dropped a bomb on us.

  “The White House? No.” Jessie’s tone was emphatic, but her wide eyes betrayed her. “They promised me they were giving me a pass.”

  “That was before it looked like you were going to win.” Chuck snickered.

  Jessie turned to me, and I saw the disappointment in her eyes. I knew she was worried that she’d let me down. It had been her job to deal with the Democratic administration, just as it had been mine to deal with the Republican congressional leadership. Her expression switched to one of determination to fix the problem. She asked Chuck, “Do you know how vocal they’re going to be? Are they working the vote? Are they sending a veto letter?”

  “I’m not sure,” Chuck answered with no emotion.

  I stared at Chuck whose face was so impassive that I was sure he was lying. I couldn’t begrudge him that. He was a reporter. He couldn’t go around telling everyone everything he knew—that would undermine his own work. I glanced at Jessie, who seemed to be thinking the same thing as me. She smiled and said, “I understand you can’t say anything. You’ve already said enough.” She turned to me. “I’ll check with the White House tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” Wanting to reassure her, I smiled and held up my hands. “I’m happy for whatever you can do. It’s not like I’m of any help over there.”

  Turning again to Chuck, Jessie said, “But, tell me. What’s your prediction? How is this going to turn out?”

  His eyes narrowed, and he looked above to the 1960s acoustic popcorn ceiling. “Hmm.” He lowered his head and gave his professional assessment. “I’d say that if you work hard, things could go your way. You may still win the vote in the House.”

  “That’s good,” I said. That was enough for me.

  “And in the Senate?” Jessie asked with caution.

  “Sorry.” Chuck shook his head. “You’ll lose there.”

  Jessie sighed. “Thanks. You’re probably right.”

  “The Senate is a hard nut to crack when it comes to reforming government spending.” Chuck smiled at his dejected dinner companions. “But you two should be happy. If you work hard and win in the House, you’ll have done well for yourselves. You’re both still only in your freshman year. Your stars are ascending.”

  “Thanks. That’s kind of you to say,” said Jessie.

  The waiter appeared and placed the check on the table, and I said, “I suppose Jessie and I need to get back to work, so we can fulfill your prediction.”

  “Let me get this,” offered Chuck as he reached for his wallet. It was both a gesture of kindness and ethics. Because we were news sources, he needed to pay the tab, and we made small talk while the bill was taken care of. Eventually, we all walked out together.

  “I’m taking the Metro. Are either of you?” asked Chuck.

  “No, we drove,” I answered, and as soon as the words were out, I realized how it might have sounded—like Jessie and I were on a date. I scrambled to fix it, when Jessie tried to herself.

  “Separately—we drove separately,” she said with a chuckle. “Uh… not very environmentally friendly, but we were at different events.”

  I wasn’t sure she’d made it any better with that comment as Chuck went back to shifting his eyes between the two of us. Until that moment, I was pretty sure he hadn’t thought twice about the fact Jessie and I were dining alone. Now Chuck’s silence and shifty eyes made me think he was suspicious about why we were having dinner together. Yes, we were colleagues, but only people who enjoyed each other’s company would see each other after a long day’s work. Chuck�
�s expression was a knowing one. It said we had more in common than just a jointly named amendment on the floor that week. “Well, have a good evening, you two,” Chuck said, his smile growing. “And good luck this week.”

  “Thanks very much. Goodnight,” Jessie offered before she turned to me. “Night.”

  “Yes. Goodnight.” I smiled at both of them and then sped away in the opposite direction.

  It was such an awkward ending to a great evening that I had to call her when I got home. Daisy was begging for a walk, and as the first lady in my life, she took priority. No one was on the streets at that hour, so I decided to call Jessie as I strolled with Daisy. She answered immediately. “Hi, Jessie. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

  “No. Of course not. I’m always up at this hour.”

  “That’s what I thought—especially with a district on the West Coast.”

  “There’s not much ocean front property in Arizona, but yes, it’s the West.” She chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t call it the Left Coast.”

  I was glad I took the chance and called her. She always made me laugh. “No way,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because there are a lot of Republicans in every west coast state. I’m not ceding an entire American coastline to a bunch of liberals.”

  “You’re feisty at this hour.”

  “Maybe so.” I lowered my voice. “Thanks again for coming to dinner tonight.”

  “Thanks for asking me.”

  “What did you think of Chuck?”

  “He was great, and like I said—I think he’s right.”

  Daisy walked along, sniffing every blade of grass. I hoped I sounded as casual as she seemed. “I do, too.”

  “Don’t worry. I promise to work on the White House first thing in the morning.”

  “Thanks, but if we lose this amendment, it won’t be because you didn’t work it hard enough.”

  “Or you.” Her voice was warm and soothing.

  “Thanks,” I said, guiding Daisy across a street. “I wish the evening hadn’t ended the way it did.”

  “Me either.”

  I wasn’t sure what she might be referring to. Maybe I’d really screwed things up. My words spilled out in a jumble. “Uh, I’m sorry about what I said… with Chuck… I didn’t mean to imply anything was going on—”