The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn)

by Cecilia London

  She should have been happy. She was accompanying one of the most popular governors in the country. Jack had done well during his first two years in office, buoyed by a legislature supportive of his policies and party elders who were constantly encouraging him to spend more time in the spotlight. He’d resisted their tugs but wasn’t immune to the thrill of the national stage. When he made his plans to head to Charlotte, he wanted his wife by his side.

  “I feel out of place here,” Caroline said.

  Jack laughed. He’d been working the crowds inside and outside the building all day, with her in tow. She played her part well, taking pictures, smiling until her jaw hurt, shaking hands until her fingers were swollen.

  “And why’s that?” he asked.

  Caroline glanced at an elderly white woman working a table near them. The woman wore an elephant hat and a giant American flag jacket. She looked constipated. “You know why,” she said. “This isn’t my scene.”

  “You did just fine at Democratic conventions.”

  “I tolerated them. Barely.” She spied a small group of college students. All white. Some of them looked a bit hung over, but they were all smiling. She couldn’t help but think they all had a robotic quality to them, even though they appeared to be perfectly pleasant young adults. “No, this is absolutely not my thing.”

  Jack smiled at her. “A bit too socially conservative for your taste?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Is that why the girls didn’t want to come?”

  “Clearly their judgment is much better than mine,” she grumbled. “Plus they had that whole ‘second week of school’ excuse.”

  “It was nice of Katie to hang out at the mansion with them.”

  A man walked by holding a Bible and a protest sign. Caroline tried not to grit her teeth. “She had the good sense to stay at home too. I wouldn’t want to be around people who thought I was going to hell.”

  “That’s not what they think.”

  Who was he kidding? Their numbers were shrinking, but the vocal minority still dominated much of the Republican Party’s internal machinations. Jack was relatively progressive when it came to social issues, particularly marriage equality and LGBTQ rights. His growing friendship with Kathleen might have helped his approach. Caroline didn’t care either way. If personal experience was what it took for him to evolve, she wouldn’t complain. He was one of the few in the GOP who had the guts to speak out about it. “Please don’t pander to them, Jack. Promise me you won’t.”

  He laughed again. “I’m too moderate for the traditionalist wing, sweetheart. I’ll be lucky if they even acknowledge me.”

  His laughter was laced with a bit of resentment, so Caroline kissed his cheek. “Managed to wrangle one of the prime time speaking slots, so you can’t be that unpopular.” She fluffed her hair. “Still not as popular as me, though.”

  “Don’t start that.”

  “Can’t help it if the public loves me.”

  “That’s why I brought you here,” Jack said. “To force you to interact with people who might not find you so adorable. You need to be taken down a peg.”

  “Just one?”

  “Maybe two. You could use some humility.”

  “You could teach me some.”

  Jack grinned. “We do have that giant hotel room to work with. Although I’m sure you’re well acquainted with most of it by now.”

  She was wearing a pantsuit for a reason, despite the heat. Rug burn. “Pervert.”

  “I do need to get some sleep before my big speech. We might need to take a nap tomorrow for most of the day, if you catch my drift.”

  “Oh, I catch it.” Jack loved to get laid right before big performances. It motivated him. It made Caroline blush.

  He rubbed her shoulder, a difficult task while walking. It still felt good. “Have you seen anyone you like today?” he asked.

  At least he acknowledged that she didn’t exactly encounter a lot of friendly faces at GOP events. “I did see Representative Capwell’s wife. We might indulge at that little afterparty tonight. And I’m going to spend some quality time with Chrissy.”

  “She’s speaking in prime time too, I see.”

  On a different night, thank God. Caroline didn’t want to have to deal with them sniping at each other over who got the better slot. “Pennsylvania’s rising Republican stars,” she said.

  Jack checked his watch. “I’ve got a little surprise for you. The candidate wants to meet you.”

  “The candidate?” she asked blankly, then did a double take. “Hendricks?”

  “Yeah. He told me something about trying to convince you to vote for him.”

  Governor Richard Hendricks of New York had been a surprising upstart candidate, streaking to the GOP nomination after a rough showing in Iowa. He’d struggled at first but caught on with voters who apparently appreciated his reasonable rhetoric and a record of successfully working with his Democratic opponents.

  Caroline remained unenthused about the current president’s re-election bid, and had been noticeably silent during the summer campaign. She had received very few requests from Democratic groups to make endorsements, although she appeared with Jen a few times as a courtesy.

  “The Dems think I’m a sellout,” she said. “Hendricks thinks he can capitalize on that?”

  “I don’t get that impression. He’s not going to ask you for an endorsement. But I may have mentioned that you liked the cut of his jib.”

  “Oh, really?” Caroline asked. “Are we going to go watch some Jimmy Cagney movies later? Maybe take some nautical lessons?”

  “You don’t like my antiquated expressions?”

  “Keep trying, buddy.”

  “So we won’t be dancing the Charleston tonight?”

  She smiled at him. The late night parties made these events tolerable. “Maybe. I was hoping for a sock hop, but we do have a crowd to entertain.”

  “It’s been a while since a candid shot of us showed up on social media.”

  The best and worst part of the convention. The trending. Caroline hadn’t forgotten what had been dubbed #ElevatorGate by several opportunistic Twitter pundits. “I’m thrilled that people are hashtagging us as we speak.”

  Jack knew better than to dredge up old wounds. That footage still led many snarky articles and online posts about the two of them. One-note bloggers never forgot anything if they thought it would drive site hits. “Would you leave the door open for voting for Hendricks?”

  It didn’t hurt to be honest. He was a moderate, her favorite kind of Republican. “I don’t know. I haven’t ruled it out.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I voted for you and Christine, didn’t I?”

  Jack motioned her toward a conference room. There were two Secret Service agents outside, so Hendricks had to be hunkering down nearby. He leaned into her ear. “That’s what you say but, secret ballot and all.”

  Caroline rolled her eyes. “Yes, I voted for your opponent. Because he was so qualified, likeable, and decent.”

  “You don’t feel obligated to vote for the president?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t. I don’t owe him anything. I’ve never voted straight ticket.”

  He gave her a skeptical look. “Really?”

  “I usually throw at least a Libertarian or Green in there just to shake it up a little, especially if I don’t know either major party candidate.”

  “But you know the president.”

  They weren’t close, but they weren’t unfriendly. She hadn’t forgotten her keynote address nor the man who selected her to give it. “Yes, I do.”

  “He did present you with that nice shiny award.”

  Which he had, a few months after the incident at the Capitol. Robert Allen had pushed pretty hard for Christine and Caroline to receive a Congressional Gold Medal, an act that garnered a decent amount of media attention. Caroline was convinced that was the only reason the president did anything to recognize them; he didn’t w
ant to be outshone by the legislative branch. The two of them were also feted by a whole host of organizations she never knew existed. Almost three years after it happened, various groups were still asking her to provide motivational speeches, and she never had any idea of what to say. The accolades felt misplaced somehow.

  “The president gave Chrissy a medal too,” Caroline said. “I don’t see her rushing to endorse him. She’s already appeared with Hendricks at least twice.”

  “She’s never spoken ill of him, either.”

  “She finds him weak on foreign policy. And on a few other issues that she will never mention in public.”

  “What do you think?”

  The president continued to struggle in the polls, and a post-convention bounce had never materialized. He had a dismal record, and spent most of his first four years caught up in a tug of war with Congress. “I’m more disappointed than anything else,” Caroline said. “I’m not all that awed with what he’s done so far. I think Hendricks will win.”

  “Tell him that. He’d probably enjoy hearing it, coming from you.”

  “You’ve talked me up that much?”

  Jack kissed her forehead. “Your actions speak for themselves, sweetheart. Most of the governors I’ve met find you very impressive.”

  “Personally or professionally?”

  “Does it matter anymore? I think those lines have been blurred.”

  Many of them seemed to have forgotten she’d ever been in Congress. Now she was just Jack’s wife, even if she had proven to be a quite engaging first lady. The perceived demotion didn’t necessarily bother her but it didn’t make her jump for joy, either. “Probably.”

  Jack gave her a disreputable look. “What kind of job do you think the Governor of Pennsylvania is doing?”

  Caroline kissed him. “Personally or professionally?”

  “Either one.”

  “Eh, he’s all right.”

  He wrapped his arm around her before nodding at the Secret Service agents, who must have been expecting them. “Behave yourself while you’re in here.”

  “Why, Mr. Governor,” she said. “I would never be anything but a lady while in the presence of genteel Republican men.”

  He glanced around the hallway then patted her ass, mumbling an indecipherable phrase that probably couldn’t be repeated in polite company. She didn’t ask him to translate.

  “The Secret Service could have seen that,” Caroline said.

  “They won’t say anything. It’s not like I ripped your skirt off. Come on.” Jack took her hand and led her into the room.

  Abuzz with activity, the space seemed smaller than it was. There were interns in the back going over paperwork, a big screen TV in the corner showing footage of the convention floor, and any number of agitated staffers who looked as if they hadn’t slept in days. Caroline didn’t envy their position. She had never aspired to national office. Too much stress. Too much fatigue. And too much damn pandering.

  But she didn’t have time to be distracted by weary politicos. Governor Hendricks spotted them and came over with a friendly smile. He was a nice enough looking man, with kind eyes and dark hair greying at the temples. He was only a few years older than Jack but didn’t look nearly as good. Of course, Caroline might have been a wee bit partial to the silver fox at her side.

  Hendricks shook Jack’s hand. “Governor McIntyre. A pleasure.”

  Jack laughed. “You don’t need to waste your time on formalities. Caroline doesn’t expect it.”

  “Jack,” he corrected. He turned to Caroline and kissed her cheek. “I figured you weren’t the type of woman to get caught up in that nonsense. You can call me Richard, obviously.”

  She smiled at him. “Obviously. What have you been working on this afternoon? Seems like your aides are freaking out over something.”

  “We’re addressing some of the more problematic parts of this year’s platform. Care to add your two cents?”

  In Caroline’s opinion, almost the entire platform was flawed. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I’m open to constructive criticism.”

  “Governor Hendricks, do you want to know what I did the last time I criticized a Republican running for office?”

  His expression led her to believe he was about to guess her punchline. “What did you do?”

  She took Jack’s hand, weaving her fingers through his. “I married him.”

  Hendricks laughed long and hard, as did Jack. “Do I get to beg for your vote?” he asked.

  “You can do your best. Do you always cut to the chase?”

  “My wife thinks it’s one of my worst traits.”

  Caroline glanced over at Jack. “My husband finds my brutal honesty off-putting as well. Maybe he and Ann should spend more time together.” She scanned the room. “Is she here?”

  “Already trying to back out of our conversation?”

  She laughed. “No, I just wanted to meet her. Commiserate. Gossip. Complain. You know.”

  Hendricks smiled back at her. “You can do that after you hear my acceptance speech. By the way, Lorenzo is here. I believe he’d like to speak with you both.”

  Caroline tried to school her features. One of her biggest concerns about voting for Hendricks: his newly selected running mate. Senator Santos was not on the list of people she wanted to encounter during the convention.

  Jack squeezed her hand. “That would be great,” he said.

  She glared at him as Hendricks went to track Santos down. “I do not want to talk to that man,” she whispered.

  “It’s only for a few minutes,” Jack said.

  Representative Gerard and Senator Santos had encountered each other very few times during the time they served in Congress together. He was too brash, even with members of his own party. Caroline didn’t waste her time on those who were unable to play nice with others. It wasn’t even necessarily his political ideology, which seemed to be typical conservatism sprinkled with hypocritical faux libertarianism. She had plenty of friends who were devout in their faith, consistent in their ideals, and committed to a robust, classically conservative agenda.

  It was how he expressed himself – as if no one else in the world were as smart, as gifted, as worthy of respect. The way he seemed to always be hiding something, his words glossing over what he was really trying to say. Santos was an expert panderer, able to make the most banal statement sound profound.

  During his first Senate campaign, he curried favor with some very questionable, borderline radical groups. Not an unusual move, especially in states where the ultraconservatives controlled the primary process. But these groups had gone beyond typical party politics, even beyond most grassroots movements.

  One of them wanted to re-criminalize sodomy and overturn Lawrence v. Texas, and believed that Christianity should be the national religion. Another supported the sterilization of citizens on public assistance. A third seemed a little too avid about emphasizing the merits of the South’s ideological positioning during the Civil War. Santos claimed to disavow every controversial and unconstitutional position they held, but Caroline didn’t believe him. Others accepted his explanation and welcomed him with open arms. Hers was a minority opinion, one she usually kept to herself. The very moderate Hendricks selected him to placate the evangelical and conservative wings of the GOP but the decision rubbed Caroline the wrong way.

  Fortunately Governor Hendricks was relatively young and healthy. She didn’t want to imagine what would happen if Santos became president. Caroline pulled a chair out from behind a nearby table and sat down, tempted to sulk. This was not how she thought their meeting would go. She should have known better.

  She had to stand up again immediately when Governor Hendricks returned with the vice presidential nominee. He shook Jack’s hand first, then turned to her. His eyes were dark. Very dark. As if there were just one giant pupil with no iris for contrast. Like something out of a horror movie. It creeped Caroline the fuck out. A petty observation, but part of
the whole unsettling package.

  “Ms. Gerard,” he said, extending his hand.

  Oh, for God’s sake. She bit back the words she wanted to say, deciding to behave herself. “It’s Caroline.” Maybe she could be charming. “You know that.”

  He seemed insulted by her amiable admonishment. “Of course.”

  Political small talk was excruciating, especially when you were surrounded by people with whom you disagreed, but Caroline managed to slog through the next twenty minutes. Hendricks was a strong, qualified candidate yet he let Santos dominate much of the conversation, which was not the way to Caroline’s voting heart. She remained mostly silent until Santos made a comment about a series of possible constitutional amendments, including one defining marriage as between a man and a woman. She couldn’t let that slide.

  “Governor Hendricks has never made that part of his platform,” she said, turning to the older man. “Have you?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “I haven’t. But we do what the people want.”

  “It’s a non-issue. The judiciary has already resolved it. And polls have consistently shown the vast majority of Americans in favor of marriage equality.”

  “Interesting phrase,” Santos said. “Not everyone has an equal right to be married. It isn’t a civil right.”

  “It is when you confer certain social and economic benefits along with it. Sacramental and civil marriage are not the same thing. A contract with the state should not be discriminatory in nature, and the courts have ruled as such.”

  “The courts were wrong.”

  Ah, some enlightenment as to his appreciation of the judicial branch. “So you’ve decided the best way to express your disagreement is to amend the Constitution? Because the Supreme Court made a decision contrary to your personal beliefs? Isn’t that a backwards approach to representative government in a republic?”

  Santos turned to Jack. “Seems like your wife misses the bully pulpit a little.”

  Could he be any more condescending? He didn’t even have the guts to speak to her directly. “One doesn’t need to be in a position of power in order to have an opinion on something.”