Corrupt Practices

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

  She had to ask around but soon found a supply closet. Like everything else, it was a disorganized mess. How did Senator Taylor run a fluid campaign with such a cluttered office? Still, she was able to grab a legal pad and a pen. Taking a deep breath, she went around collecting lunch orders. It took her almost an hour to get everyone in the office. Including the other interns. They were in a conference room, all of them together. Strewn on the table they shared were research books, computers, and coffee cups. They were busy doing research on the oil pipeline that a senate committee had proposed creating, and that Senator Taylor opposed. Research that Mariel should be helping with.

  By the time she had collected everyone’s orders and money, it was close to noon. Mariel scrambled around the city, collecting boxes and bags of food. She had to make several trips. Each time she returned to deliver another round of lunches, she heard the grumbling get a little louder. People were mean when they were hungry. By the time she delivered the final lunch at 2:30 she knew she hadn’t made any friends that day.

  She was exhausted and her body ached. As she made her way back to her closet, she slumped into her desk-chair and realized as her stomach growled that in her efforts to get everyone else situated, she had neglected to feed herself.

  Was this going to be her life? The internship was for 6 months with the possibility of being hired at the end. She wasn’t finished with her first day and already her mind was numb, her body ached, no one liked her, and she literally had been hidden away in a closet. Had she left the security of her home state, moved to the city, for this?

  She hated doubting herself, but there she was, wallowing in a pity party. At least she had managed to avoid Dallas for a few hours. He had gone out for lunch with his brother and upper staffers. She didn’t think she could take hearing his harsh criticisms and cruel sneers at the moment.

  In theory her day ended at 4:30PM. That left two hours for her to find something to work on. Mariel’s instinct was to find her way into the intern’s conference room and introduce herself. She could get caught up on what they were working on and start learning the ins and outs of the office.

  Did I tell you to go to the intern’s room, Eager Beaver? No. I told you we’d see. If you can’t listen to directions, you’re no good to me.

  She had a feeling that was exactly what Dallas would say. Not impressed with her gumption and motivation, but irritated with her trying too hard.

  Yet she couldn’t sit still, either.

  Mariel was a problem solver. She liked challenges and overwhelming odds. Dallas Taylor was, she realized, her Everest. Of course, as soon as she thought of the metaphor, she giggled at the thought of climbing that tall body and taking him. Her nerves buzzed at the fantasy, but it gave her some courage.

  I bet he’d be fantastic at hate sex. Not that she’d know, really; her sexual encounters were all garden variety college sex. Bunk beds, cars, co-ed showers. Not to mention she had been too busy to keep any of the guys around afterwards. The thought of sleeping with someone like Dallas, though, made her uncomfortably turned on. He just had that vibe, the one that let her know he could chew her up and spit her out… and she’d love it. And hate it, because of who he was.

  She flexed her hands, locking her fingers together and cracking her knuckles. This was a bad day. Just one bad day. She could do something until it was over; tomorrow would be different.

  She had brought her framed degree. It was one of the few personal items she had brought to Washington. It had taken her only one year to earn her Masters. She had graduated at twenty-two with honors after taking more than a full load each semester. It had only taken her two months to write her thesis. While her classmates had been working more slowly but socializing and enjoying school, Mariel had been hunched in the library, working at a furious pace that allowed for nothing but school and limited sleep.

  From her father she had learned a firm handshake. From her mother, she had learned that nothing happened without hard work and sacrifice. Poverty can do that to families, and she and her mother had been dirt poor.

  Determined, Mariel knew what she needed to do. It took some searching, but she found a hammer and a nail in a utility cupboard. She rummaged around and was delighted when she found a screwdriver. Let’s see how he likes this. When she got back to her closet, she smiled.

  The door drove her crazy. She couldn’t close it because it cut out all of the light and the desk was in the way. But leaving it open took up valuable space in the hallway. For the other workers rushing up and down the walkway, it was a clear irritation and danger.

  She used the screwdriver to take the door off of its hinges and moved it to an empty room. Irritation roiled through her. If there were empty rooms, there was no reason for her desk to be in a freaking closet. This was worse than hazing. At least she could feel triumphant in the small ways she was sticking it to Dallas Taylor.

  Returning to her space, she crammed herself in and hung her degree. A degree worth forty thousand dollars that she would never have to pay off; she had earned enough in grants to cover her expenses. Seeing it made her feel calmer, more focused.

  “What’s this?”

  The gravel voice made Mariel jump. She flushed at being startled by Dallas.

  “Where is your door?”

  “I took it off, sir.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. Instead his cool gaze took in the closet. He found the degree and studied it hard. “Masters, hmmm?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Is that supposed to impress me?”

  How could he intimidate her so much? She was trapped again, sitting on the desk, such as it was. His strong shoulders blocked the light and the door. His face, set in its permanent scowl, was locked onto hers. A shudder rippled involuntarily through her body. Could she do nothing right for this man?

  She had worked so desperately hard to reach this point and in a day’s time Dallas was dismantling her efforts, bit by bit. She trembled, raw and vulnerable, but his smug grin was salt in the wound. Unbidden, the worst happened. Her eyes began to water.

  Oh god, don’t start crying!

  It was too late, and a tear escaped. Another fell quickly behind it. Mariel didn’t wipe them away, too afraid to move.

  She felt him watching as the tears kept slipping down her cheeks, collecting together on her chin before dropping onto her shirt.

  Finally, his hand moved slowly out and his fingertip caught a tear on her chin as it tilted her face toward him. Her stomach lurched into her throat, the gesture so intimate it stunned her. Sniffling, she dared to allow a small bit of hope in.

  “Go home, E.B. Go home and think long and hard about why you’re here. Washington isn’t the place for Pollyanna’s and Eager Beavers. Remember what I said: sink or swim. It isn’t worth staying here and drowning.”

  With that he left her to her tears, which quickly became soft, muted sobs.

  Chapter Three

  Mariel lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, hitting the snooze button twice. Never before had she so dreaded getting out of bed.

  She hadn’t slept much, her dreams feeling more hectic than her waking thoughts. It didn’t help that her dreams were about moaning below Dallas Taylor’s muscled body when all she wanted was to slap him. Each time she had closed her eyes she found herself jerking awake soon after, body feverish and slick with sweat.

  Her alarm went off a third time, its grating buzz reminding her that she couldn’t stay in bed all morning.

  Dragging herself out, Mariel dressed as conservatively as possible in slacks and a button-down shirt. Her cheeks burned as she recalled the embarrassment of the previous day’s outfit. On the list of things she felt shame for on her first day that had been the smallest, but she was an adult and did not want to spend the rest of her internship being confused for a teenager.

  She skipped tea and just had a piece of toast to go. She wasn’t going to be underdressed, and she damned sure wasn’t going to be late.

  She arrived at
the office at seven thirty. It was a wholly different scene from the previous day. There were only a handful of people milling around, the hustle of working for a Politician not yet apparent.

  Mariel placed her bag in her desk and went to the kitchen. Coffee was soon percolating. It was seven fifty and still no sign of Dallas and the other interns. Unsure of what to do, Mariel decided to collect coffee orders. Her first stop was Senator Taylor’s office. The door was open. She gave a timid knock.

  “Yes?”

  Peeking in, Mariel saw it was the pretty woman with the scowl from the day before. “Hello?”

  The woman glowered at her. “What do you want?”

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Immediately the frown disappeared and the woman became even more attractive. “That would be amazing. What is your name?”

  “Mariel.”

  “Mariel, I take mine with cream and one sugar, Roger takes his black. All of the Taylors drink black coffee.”

  “Oh, ok. Good to know. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Mariel turned to leave when the woman called after her.

  “Wait! My name is Ellen, I’m Roger’s personal aid. His speechwriter is down the hall and she’d probably love coffee as well--if you’re looking to score some brownie points.”

  Lady, you don’t know the half of it. It was an olive branch, albeit a small one, and Mariel was grateful. She could use all of the office goodwill she could get. Before she left, she dared one more question.

  “Is Mr. Taylor… I mean Dallas in yet?” Mariel shuddered as she remembered how attractive—and how awful—Dallas had been the day before.

  “Not yet.”

  After bringing coffee for Ellen and Senator Taylor, Mariel made her way to the speech writer’s office.

  “I’m here to take coffee orders.”

  There was a woman in the room. Her dark, straight hair fell in a sheet around her face as she hovered over the desk, scribbling. She jumped when Mariel spoke. “You scared the shit out of me!”

  Suppressing a giggle, Mariel apologized. “Coffee?”

  “Hell, I don’t need any after that scare. But thanks. Are you new here?”

  “Yes. Mariel. An intern… in theory. So far coffee girl.”

  The woman, who was pretty in an unconventional way, raised an eyebrow. “Dallas?”

  Mariel admired her thick brunette hair and naturally rosy cheeks. They made her look like she had just finished walking in the autumn, fresh and pink.

  Scared to admit it out loud, Mariel nodded.

  “Don’t let him fuck with you. He’s a good guy, just a little rough around the edges.”

  “Oh. Okay.” It was doubtful that the speech writer had ever experienced the true spite of Dallas. It went well beyond ‘rough around the edges.’ Maybe if the edges were also made of serrated, rusted steel.

  Mariel didn’t believe her about Dallas, but she felt an instant connection to her. After a few minutes of chatting Mariel learned her name was Paige. She was the primary speechwriter and press secretary. She helped Senator Taylor maintain his idyllic image, something that Mariel thought couldn’t be too hard considering the genuine man they worked for. The research the interns did often went to her, and they occasionally practiced speech writing and she would critique them. Something Mariel would have loved, if she hadn’t landed on Dallas’s shit list.

  It was 8:15AM when she was done delivering coffee and Mariel hurried to glance in the intern’s room, terrified of being late again. None of the interns were there. That didn’t mean she was alone.

  “I see you still have trouble being here on time.”

  She jerked around, surprised. Dallas. “I’ve been here since seven thirty, sir. What would you like me to work on today?” Mariel noticed that Dallas had a cup of coffee already. He followed her eyes to his cup.

  “It’s a little weak this morning, E.B. Try to remember that we work in politics here. We need the real stuff.”

  Her chest clenched at the criticism. Already he was on her case.

  “Tell you what, E.B. Try to do what you did yesterday. Only better and faster. If I have hungry, angry staff, not much gets done.” He started to leave, and then turned to say one last thing. “And no crying.”

  He left her, steaming and with a bruised ego.

  This day was not going to be better than the previous. Mariel felt heavy with dread.

  * * * *

  It was early. Mariel went to her cramped desk and pulled out her laptop. If they weren’t going to provide her with a computer, she would make do with her own.

  There was a small outlet in the closet, but no place for her to connect to the internet and network.

  Asking around, Mariel found the office’s computer systems manager, Mark. The position was essentially IT, but for the senator’s personal staff.

  Mark was thin, awkward, and kind. After telling him her predicament, he came and helped her with not only the wireless password, but getting hooked up to the network the whole office shared. Now she would have access to create an office e-mail, see shared folders, and most importantly to her, follow what the other interns were working on. She might be too scared to invite herself into their office space, but at least she could stay up-to-date on what they were researching. Hopefully she wouldn’t be behind when Dallas finally let her start doing her job. If he ever let her do a real job.

  Mariel was able to access the office staff directory and found Ellen’s office assistant, a man named Bill. If Ellen was Senator Taylor’s personal aid, Mariel hoped Bill would be able to help her with some financial questions she had.

  Locating Bill’s office, she introduced herself. He was kind, if a bit simple. Short and balding, he was all smiles when she said hello. It wasn’t even noon and now she had met four people, all of whom had been nice to her. Maybe, just maybe, if she could avoid Dallas, she could make it through the day.

  The day before people had been irritated with her at having to fork over their money for lunch, at having to choose a place, and the process had been time consuming and frustrating for everyone.

  “Bill, on average, how much does the office spend on lunches and food stocks?”

  Bill’s forehead scrunched. “We allot about a hundred a day for the whole office, but most of it goes untouched. Why?”

  “Do you have a campaign credit card?”

  “Oh, uh, yeah.”

  “May I use the card to place a lunch order?”

  While reluctant to hand over what was essentially a blank check with a magnetic strip to an intern, a little flirting from Mariel convinced him to do it. She smiled as he handed over the plastic.

  “I’ll need a receipt. Remember, no more than a hundred, maybe one fifty, ok? Or it will be my balls.”

  “I would never want to hurt your balls, Bill,” Mariel joked and walked out, leaving the assistant red-faced but smiling.

  Doing a quick search, Mariel found a catering company that took last minute orders. She knew from the day before how many staff there were. Most senators had office staffs of thirty five people; Senator Taylor kept it tighter with only twenty, plus five interns. Whether that was from modesty or budgeting she wasn’t sure, but she admired a man who did a lot of his own work.

  She was able to place an order for healthy Greek food to be delivered before noon, and for far less money than she had been given permission to spend.

  Exhilarated, she found a different catering company for each day for the remainder of the week and scheduled deliveries. She verified that the card would not be charged until the scheduled day, smiling as she thought about the heart attack poor Bill would have otherwise. By the end of it, she had still managed to save a couple hundred dollars. She wrote an email to let the office know where lunch was coming from and where to find it.

  An idea sprung into her head. Taking the card, Mariel decided to gamble. She wasn’t the gambling type and Dallas had proven over and over he disliked surprises. However, she realized, she was already as low
in his graces as possible, so what was the harm in possibly pissing him off again? In fact, the idea of doing something to spite him carried high appeal. She grabbed her things and headed out for her own lunch hour.

  In the sunshine, Mariel enjoyed her accomplished high and the warmer weather of summer. She had only a little time before the lunch hour crush, but she was on a mission. This was going to either make her or break her at the office. She might hate Dallas, but she was learning that it didn’t mean she couldn’t find a way into her coworker’s hearts.

  She knew just the thing.

  * * * *

  Plugging in the single-cup coffee makers, Mariel stood back and admired her handiwork. Gone were the old, gross coffee machines. With the money she had saved she had managed to score not just one but two of the individual cup coffee makers and a ton of flavored coffees. It looked nice and professional. More important, she thought, was that this was one job Dallas couldn’t force on her again. She had freed up her time, ensured that everyone could have the cup of coffee they wanted and when they wanted it, and she hadn’t even gone over budget. Let him suck on that.

  She took her receipts to Bill and handed him the card, letting him know what to expect.

  “All of the catering receipts will be forwarded to you as well, so you can see what’s being charged.”

  She beamed as Bill thanked her. She noticed, with no small amount of pride, the now-empty plate on his desk that had obviously held the catered lunch. When he looked at her extra purchase, his eyes bulged.

  “We have real coffee?”

  She nodded. “We have real coffee. And under budget, Bill.” She felt so good about the decision she didn’t think anything could bring her down.

  “Do we, now?”

  Spoke too soon.

  She knew the tone by now, dripping with sarcasm. Bill’s sheet-white face and the rapidity at which he pretended to start working let her guess who was standing behind her.