Jack Canon's American Destiny

by Greg Sandora

  Regardless of how many times it rang, I made a pact with myself not to answer the phone while driving. There were two reasons: First, my spirits were buoyed from the wins and I figured a decent stress free ride into work was my reward. Second, at the speed I was driving, it was only a matter of time before I caused an accident from looking away to text. So now my time in the car would be just like when I was a kid ripping down the farm roads of Kentucky, only without the dirt trail cloud behind me. I pulled up to the parking garage and stopped briefly to say hi to the kid in the booth. His name was Johnny, and a couple of times a week when we weren’t on the road campaigning I’d stop and talk for a minute. He always had some question or comments, like ‘dude those women who work in your office are beautiful, man. How do you get anything done?’ Another day he asked, ‘Hey I was looking on line, that’s not an ordinary car, is it some kind of after market ride?’ I never knew what he would say or ask and today was no different.

  “How ya doin’, Johnny?”

  “Good, man. Hey that pretty blonde lady just drove in a few minutes ago. Is she seeing anyone?”

  “I quipped back, “Why you didn’t you ask her, Johnny?”

  “I don’t think I could bring myself to talk to her,” he said.

  “Come on, she’s a person just like you. You can talk to her. When you find out, let me know. We don’t talk about things like that.”

  “Oh, I understand. Sexual harassment and shit.”

  “Ya, something like that.”

  “Hey, I wanted to ask you?”

  “One more, John, then I gotta go.”

  “How much does a senator make?”

  I laughed back, “Not enough kid, see ya.”

  The kid loves watching me burning rubber up the entry, and I didn’t disappoint him, pressing the throttle to the floor. I thought, if the kid only knew what was really going on in Washington his young community college mind would be completely blown. Not to mention he could've easily found the information on the web. The real question he should have asked is why the governor of Florida spent two hundred million of his own money to get elected to a job that would pay him less than one percent of that for the whole four years. Turn over that rock, and he’ll have the story.

  I pulled the car into my usual spot on the third level of the parking garage and reached over for my cell. Three texts, all from Lexi:

  Jack when you get this please call me, Lexi.

  Have a couple of questions for you, Lexi.

  Jack have a big favor to ask, Lexi.

  Sometimes I liked to sit in the car and answer texts or emails before heading up the elevator to the office. Lexi and I had become very good friends, and I knew I could trust her. The relationship was symbiotic; we both gained from it. Her intense loyalty partly came from her belief personally in what we were about and partly because I gave her first dibs on everything. She was our plant in the media and it had made her a big star with the network. Her bosses were enjoying her exclusives and the access, and while they didn’t verbalize it, were probably secretly hoping it would continue into the White House.

  I texted Lexi: I’ve got a minute if you can talk.

  I figured either she would call right back, or at least I get points for answering her text.

  Almost as soon as I pressed send and the phone rang. It was Lexi.

  “Hi Lexi, I got your texts, but I was driving.”

  Hi, Jack, thanks for answering. I knew you’d get back to me when you got to the office.”

  “Oh, I had a great ride in this morning; the weather feels like I should be sitting on my grandmother’s front porch drinking orangeade, not heading into work. What’s going on with you? What do you need, Honey?”

  “Jack, everyone’s buzzing down here about Griffin. How did you get her to lie down like that in Florida?”

  “Lexi, I could tell you but it would have to be off the record.”

  “Really, Jack, that would be the story of the year. Everyone’s going to be digging.”

  “Well they are not going to get anything from her, and I’ll give you the exclusive on the condition that you wait to reveal until after Maine.”

  “Why wait, Jack? She’s practically a cheerleader. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had a schoolgirl crush on you.”

  “That would be funny, the Wicked Witch of the West. You can print that she definitely doesn’t have a crush. But anything else, you wait until you get the okay from me.”

  “Jack, why would you make me wait, you could capitalize on a story like this while you’re in Maine.”

  “Lexi, Maine is like my backyard. We have a home up there. I want to win the state so big. When you do report what I’ll give you, this race will be all over.”

  “You know I want it, Jack, just let me know the minute I can use it.”

  “I’ll tell you now; it will be the day after we win Maine. Our buses are on their way right now, and will be joined by a third when they get there.”

  “Why are you adding another bus?”

  “One will be for staffers and the most favorable press, and the rear bus will be for other press. Bud and the gang will be up front with me.”

  “Speaking of buses Jack I got quite the ribbing from the press core about the two hours I spent interviewing with you up front.”

  “Why it was all innocent enough?”

  “Jack it was because of that Daphne chick you have working with the press. She stood right at the door to your bus after I went in and told everyone, ‘The senator is not to be disturbed.’”

  I belly laughed and Lexi joined in, “You’ll have to get used to that, Miss Exclusive. I’ve heard the rumors. They’re just pissed at you because Daphne’s job is to keep the interviews to fifteen minutes.”

  In fact, Daphne and I had a code worked out. She comes back and says the next appointment is ready. If I object, she insists we keep things moving so we can get to everyone, she knows to get rid of whomever I’m with.

  Honestly, we could give a crap about getting to anyone; we only feed the good press. If I say nothing then she waits another five minutes and it goes like that until I object.

  “Lexi her standing orders are - when you’re on the bus – no other press - everyone clears out.”

  “That’s why everyone’s pissed off at me. Who is Daphne anyway? She is sooo intimidating. All the women hate her and the guys are going gaga and can’t stop talking about her. It’s like we’re all in Junior High again. She has a knack for making people feel like crap just walking up to her.”

  “Not you Lexi.”

  “Really Jack? Do you want to know what it feels like for me approaching her?”

  “I can’t believe you would even care Lexi.”

  “Jack it freaking feels like everyone has a copy of the latest Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition and is comparing me to it. Seeing her gets everyone off their game. The men—even some of the big time guys are tongue-tied talking to her—it’s sort of funny. On the bus, behind her back it’s like a locker room, the testosterone and male bravado, but when they get face to face with her, they melt.”

  “How would you know what it’s like in a locker room?” I teased.

  “You never told me who she is, and I didn’t really want to bring her up when I was with you in Florida. Is she a model, an actress?”

  I wouldn’t have gotten away with it face to face, but over the phone, she couldn’t see me smiling. The Daphne thing was working just the way I had hoped. I would never admit to the real reason she was there. Anyway, it was right in front of Lexi’s nose and she even hit on it once or twice. Daphne had a natural talent for deflating egos and that was just the condition I wanted the press in when they schlepped onto the bus to meet with me. Daphne was hired to intimidate even though she didn’t know she was doing it.

  The day she met me at the Bookstore all I told her was she would be my appointment keeper, basically doing the same thing she did at the salon. She said, “I don’t know if I can handle such an
important position.”

  I told her not to worry everything she did just by being herself was perfect.

  I gave her my other gift card. “If you want to join us, spend this on some kick ass outfits, you’ve got to be on every day.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  “Good question,” I even liked the bitchy way she said it, “If you don’t then just mail it back to me."

  I couldn’t have been happier; the press were marching in like wounded dogs. The women came in needy like damaged goods starving for male attention. I would sooth them with compliments and send them back to file their stories. The men were worse, even the married guys came in begging for a hand out. “Hey Jack, could you introduce me.” I’d say it like I was their wingman.

  “If you can save it for after the campaign, I don’t want her distracted. She’s got a job to do.”

  The third bus would be the spawning pool. Reporters who filed positive stories would graduate to the second armed with mid level staffers and occasionally Bud riding along to serve the Kool Aid. True believers would have assigned seats and perks like early interviews so they could make deadline. We made their lives as easy as possible with prepared notes, selected quotes and reserved seats at rallies.

  Daphne would ride up front with me to keep her unfamiliar as long as possible. I didn’t want her power to fade.

  Lexi was waiting on the phone for an answer.

  “No I met her when I took Lisa to get her hair done.”

  “You’re playing with me now. You took Lisa to get her hair done?”

  “Why is it so hard to believe?”

  “Well that explains the transformation. They’re calling it your little harem Jack. Lisa does look fantastic though. Ever thought of giving me some advice. Like what would do you think, I mean what would you suggest I do?”

  “You’re perfect I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “No Jack really - give me two suggestions. Please I promise I won’t be mad. On the contrary, I would love the help.”

  “Wow Daphne has really gotten to you huh babe?”

  What Lexi didn’t know is too much of anyone even Daphne can get on my nerves. She looked so amazing when we met; at first glance, I understood her power.

  I wasn’t easily shaken but Daphne’s Rare Beauty had intimidated me. Spending time with her I was finding the more familiar we got the less enamored I was. It’s almost like she was getting less pretty. I told her to limit her time with the Press and not to get friendly with anyone. My goal was to keep her as intimidating as possible for as long as I could.

  The reporters coming in to see me had to pass through Daphne and get their egos deflated. That two-minute edge was all we needed to knock them down a peg. The men would question their prowess, the woman their beauty, prima donnas all, confidence a little shaken. When I built them up again they linked feeling good with me, it’s as if they couldn’t separate the man from the message.

  No one knew better than me what it felt like to walk up to this girl and get nothing. Deep down I knew that when I was just another guy coming into the salon she wouldn’t give me the time of day.

  Fame is funny. It changes the way people interact with you. The hangers on, the roar of the crowd, the way up is exhilarating. I was slowly getting used to it, but as any once really famous person will tell you; it doesn’t last forever, for some the way down can be pretty ugly.

  Once at a charity event I watched as a new starlet was being interviewed accompanied by her famous Hollywood agent. In mid sentence one of his former clients, a women that was once really famous crashed the interview. She was a little loud and pushy and seemed frazzled. They tolerated her but I could see the strain on their faces, it was really sad. It was obvious she still liked to come out to events and appeared to crave attention, but her star once bright had faded.

  Daphne was star struck and craved my attention. She even confessed to having a crush on me and told me she had dreamed we were together. I couldn’t burst her bubble so I had to play along a little, or risk damaging her confidence. I was getting to know the real Daphne and with her guard down, she was a sweetheart. She needed what she had to play her part with the press, and the poor thing wasn’t acting. She couldn’t make this stuff up, to those who didn’t know her she appeared to be an aloof condescending bitch that just happened to be a stone cold fox. I had no other choice but to keep her close with me so we could maintain the mystery.

  I was the only one who had seen Daphne without her makeup. It happened one day at a campaign stop in Venice, Florida when she told me she had a terrible headache. While I got out to shake hands with some seniors, I told her to lie down on the bed and try to relax. I hoped she would feel better if she took a nap for a couple of hours. She took a couple of pills and lay down and I left. A few hours later when I returned Daphne was still sleeping. There was no need to wake her and with us scheduled to leave for our next stop north to Tampa, I told the driver to head out. We arrived in Tampa and all got out and did our dog and pony show while Daphne stayed on the bus. An hour later, I went back by myself to check on her. I walked to the back of the bus and lightly tapped on the door, “Honey are you okay, how are you feeling?" She opened the door and I was a little surprised to see her standing there wrapped in only a towel, “I feel better, I just had to take a shower to freshen up Jack, I hope you don’t mind.” Her voice was the same but somehow the quiet direct manner of her speech was childlike. What we were all trained to hear, as a quiet detachment in this context was just her sweetness. I told her of course I didn’t mind, but I hardly recognized her. Gone were the exotic smoky eyes and in their place were plain lids over pale blue. Maybe not even blue, more of a milky white washed Robin’s Egg blue. Daphne noticed me looking at her eyes, she explained apologetically, “I take my contacts out to sleep, I hate my eyes, my real color is gross, so I chose the deepest blue I could find.” Her hair was up in a new white towel and her normally hot pink glossy lips, her sultry trademark, were washed off. Her stilettos were slung beside the bed, and the clothes she wore so well were spewn all across the floor. Daphne the exotic beauty my intimidator, wrapped in only a towel seemed almost plain. I felt pangs of tenderness run through me like a shiver and realized how vulnerable she was, “Honey take all the time you need to get ready, I’ll give you some privacy.” I felt like Toto had just pulled back the curtain on the Wizard of Oz. Before me half naked innocence, vulnerable, lacking guile, I wished she would speak the words.

  “I get the whole thing Jack, I understand.” She really didn’t though, this wasn’t the first time I’d met a women and a girl popped out. Poor Daphne was a blank canvas; we all projected our insecurities upon.

  “Lock the bus door after me when I leave Honey.”

  I had to protect her image, and be careful not to simply use her and throw her away once the campaign was over. I thought we could place her in a token job or send her to school or better yet, she could stay with me and greet appointments waiting to see me in the oval. That would be the plan - I’ll just keep her with me.

  While I was lost in thought, Lexi was still on the phone.

  “She has gotten to me, Jack. I’m surprised Kathy puts up with her.”

  “Lexi, my wife knows I like blondes, and that’s why I picked Daphne in the first place. She flew right under the radar. Kathy’s forgiven me but I’ve made an ass of myself several times gushing over blondes. Don’t tell this to a soul, but you do more for me than she does, and unlike Daphne you get prettier every time I see you.”

  “It’s a good thing we’re on the phone, Jack; I’m blushing and smiling so hard I can barely talk.”

  “See, Lexi, that’s what I love about you. You’re smart and funny, you make me laugh. You’ve got it all and you’re a knockout.”

  “I’m serious, Jack, you have just made me a very happy girl, even if it’s not true. Damn, you’re good.”

  “You said you had a favor to ask?”

  “Yes, everybody at the Network thi
nks it would be a great idea for us to film you all access while you’re up in Maine. Sort of like reality TV. We’d get film of everything, it would mean hours of television. I told them I didn’t think you’d go for it Jack.”

  “Do you want to do it, Lexi”?

  “Of course, what reporter wouldn’t want hours of film in the stations archives with the next President of the United States? My face would be much more visible and it would bring my career to the next level.”

  “What about the ribbing you’ll get from the press core?”

  “Let them talk, Jack. In this business, if their not talking about you, you’re dead. Besides I don’t really have a choice; this request came right from the top.”

  “Lexi, in any business if they’re not talking about you, you’re dead.

  “I guess we could do it, with one condition.”

  “That’s great Jack, anything.”

  “Nothing gets through without Bud looking at it first or we pull the plug.”

  “Sure Jack, you know I’d never try to hurt you guys.”

  “That’s the only way I’ll get him on board, and he’s gotta be okay with it or it won’t fly, Bud is one guy you don’t want to force.”

  “It’s all set then. We’ll join you in Maine. I can’t wait to spend that much time with you.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Lexi.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Hey, I forgot to mention we’re getting Secret Service starting with Maine, so it may not be any picnic for your people. They’re a paranoid bunch you know.”

  “How did you manage that, Jack? Usually the protection only comes into play the last 120 days before the election.”

  “Lex, we didn’t ask for it. They came to us, something about the crowds getting too large. They’re right it was getting hard to get in and out of places because we couldn’t control the traffic. The Secret Service will change all that. Besides we were spending a fortune on all the guys Tip had working, let Uncle Sam foot the bill. Anyway we jumped on it.”