Page 3 of The Senator's Rival

The cameras zoomed in for the perfect shot of her smiling face and Margot held that smile until the red light was shut off, to signal the end of filming. The crew began to bustle around, shifting lights and equipment and while speaking quietly among themselves. Margot rose to her feet and brushed her hands down her skirt, then pursed her lips and shot a sharp glare at the director.

“Adam, why was a shadow cast on the wall during my left turn?” she demanded, hands on her hips in a commanding posture that made the man in question freeze in his tracks, visibly nervous. “This angle was supposed to be completely lit, as I specifically requested on Friday.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Smith,” Adam murmured, rubbing his neck sheepishly. “I assure you, ma'am, the lighting was calibrated to your exact specifications. No shadows should have been visible under?—”

“Well, they were,” she pointed out icily. “And now the sun will have moved enough that we can't reshoot. Which means the perfect start to the most important video of my life is now flawed, because you and your team didn't do your jobs correctly.”

“Margot, come on,” interjected an exasperated baritone voice from behind the camera. It belonged to William, her husband and partner of almost twenty years. “I didn't even notice whatever it is you're upset about. The shot was perfect. Let's let these guys do their jobs now, all right?”

Her piercing blue eyes fixed on him with the same intensity as one would stare down an obnoxious insect. In response, the tall, slightly greying man in the expensive suit simply quirked an amused eyebrow, unmoved by her icy gaze. After the couple stared at each other for a beat, Margot rolled her eyes dramatically and looked back at the director. She nodded reluctantly.

“Fine. We need to get this out today, so it'll have to do.” The tone of Margot’s voice made it clear what she thought of that option, but everyone in the room relaxed slightly now that she had begrudgingly consented to move on. “Send me the final cut as soon as it's complete and usable. I want to look over it myself. I need it up in time for the twelve o'clock news.”

With that, Margot turned and strode off, her heels clicking loudly in the spacious studio space as the team hurried to disassemble their setup. On her way to the door, Margot passed her husband, who trailed her with long strides. She took a deep breath to calm the anxiety flaring up inside her. Her team would be capable of producing an excellent product with limited resources and short deadlines, but she couldn't help second-guessing her performance.

She had worked for this for her whole life. Twenty years of planning and strategizing had brought her here. Every success and setback had culminated in this moment, which had been painstakingly choreographed and timed to perfection, and now her entire future hinged upon how well the speech went. It had to go off without a hitch, or else Margot might lose any chance of landing in the White House. One tiny glitch might bring it crashing down on top of her, and all her dreams and plans would collapse in a heap of ruin. Twenty years of planning and strategizing lost.

“It was perfect, Margot. Calm down,” William assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder once they exited the studio and got into the car that was waiting for them outside. She inhaled the chilled air deeply, still uncomfortable because of the humid heat outside. “You're being uptight and critical.”

She pursed her lips and averted her gaze, fidgeting with the ring on her finger as she stared out the window. He chuckled quietly at the sight, shaking his head in mild amusement.

“What did Mr. Goldman say when you talked to him this morning?” she finally asked, after a brief silence. “We need their support, William, and we don't have a lot of time.”

“They said they're willing to discuss further,” he replied evenly. “They'll be at the fundraiser tonight. We'll do some schmoozing, toss around a few jokes and stories, and they'll get on board. It's handled, all right?”

“You said that about the conference in Maine,” she pointed out sharply, “and you didn't handle it, so?—”

“That was ten years ago, Margot,” William groaned in exasperation, rubbing his temple as though he were developing a headache. “This is as important to me as it is to you. Believe me.”

They had known each other for a long time, since childhood. They'd grown up together in a small town in Virginia, both the children of wealthy financial managers. Attended the same private school, then studied law together at Princeton. All their lives, they'd been in each other's orbits, watching each other's backs, and plotting together toward their mutual goals. It only made sense for them to get married. They worked well together and looked good together, the perfect all-American dream couple.

To the rest of the world, William and Margot Smith’s relationship looked like a fairytale romance: meeting as children, marrying young, and then staying together through thick and thin. He had been by her side throughout her entire career, from her early days as a federal prosecutor to her tenure in Congress, and now, to her position as the official nominee for her party's presidential ticket. If Margot ever needed positive press, she'd trot William out for a scenic stroll through the park. Or she’d go visit a school--or whatever else it took to make sure their machine ran smoothly.

“You were out with Tom a week ago,” she added pointedly. “This is not the time to be taking risks like that.”

“There was no risk. We're two adult men going to a football game. All anyone thinks is that you and I are regular, down-to-earth people who do wholesome things with our friends sometimes,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Nothing compromising or controversial about it.”

“Yet you don't see me strolling about in broad daylight with any of my lady friends, now, do you?” she snapped at him. “This entire campaign depends on presenting the right image to the public. Once we're in the White House, you can move him into the East Wing and shower him with roses from the garden every night for all I care. Until then, he stays out of sight. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he mocked, offering a cheeky salute as the car pulled up in front of their hotel.

“Thank you, darling,” she cooed sarcastically, rolling her eyes and stepping out of the car.

Almost immediately, they were ushered up to their suite, where a team of stylists waited to make them over in preparation for the evening. Margot headed off to the dressing room, where her assistants were hanging up the sleek scarlet cocktail dress that she would wear that evening. It was fitted and flattering yet modest, with long sleeves and a simple scoop neckline. Bold color combined with a simple silhouette, making Margot look powerful and elegant without seeming overly flashy. It was essential for her to present a professional, polished image at all times, no matter what she was doing.

From behind the curtain, Margot heard her hairdresser chattering away as he swept her golden brown hair into a simple updo, twisting her trademark locks into an immaculately styled knot at the back of her head. Margot’s makeup was natural and classy, bringing out her natural beauty without obscuring her face beneath a layer of painted features. Her beauty drew people in, but if she came across as too vain or overly concerned with appearances, it would make them think of her as vapid and unprofessional. Every single thing about Margot had been carefully crafted through years of practice and attention to detail, always skirting the balance. She had to be appealing, while remaining dignified and respectable. Margot’s greatest talent was knowing exactly what image to portray in each situation, and how to adjust herself accordingly depending on her audience.

When they finally walked into the hotel lounge, Margot and William looked every bit the charismatic, well-rounded political power couple. With their matching award-winning smiles and designer clothes, they moved through the crowd with practiced ease and precision. The room was filled with industry bigwigs, political donors, lobbyists, and wealthy attendees. Margot knew exactly how to speak to each person in the room so that they would feel special.

“Oh, yes, coal mining is the backbone of American industry,” she said to one industry magnate, nodding in agreement as she sipped at her champagne. “Keeping America safe and independent is the number-one priority, and ensuring our blue-collar workers continue to receive the support of the government is imperative.”

The man grinned broadly and nodded enthusiastically while Margot half-listened, smiling and maintaining eye contact. He went off on a tangent about how unions were destroying the livelihood of working people. Because he was one of the wealthiest industrialists in the Midwest, it was vital to maintain a solid rapport and to reassure him that the party platform wouldn't interfere with his profit margins. Once they had shaken hands and the man had assured her that he would be making a generous donation to her campaign, Margot moved on to the next target, smiling graciously at each person she encountered.

“Naturally,” William said to a couple of Wall Street bankers with a laugh. “It's essential that we provide incentives to encourage investment in the American economy. It's absurd to punish the people who've worked hard and invested wisely so we can provide opportunities for lazy people to benefit-- which is what the political left wants with the ludicrous tax policies they are trying to push through.”

That earned another round of handshakes and smiles, not to mention promises to donate significantly to the campaign's coffers. As long as the money continued to roll in, they were golden. Money made the world go 'round, and Margot knew how to attract and spend it to maximum effect. Their idealistic opponents could have the lofty promises and utopian ideals—Margot operated based on pragmatic realism. She understood the system. She knew how it worked and could get results. While Francesca Thurston was dreaming of pie in the sky and promising a brand new world, Margot was down here on the ground, building a real foundation that could pave the way for a better tomorrow.

For hours, William and Margot mingled, drank, laughed, and spoke platitudes with politicians and donors alike, all the while maintaining flawless poise. Margot made sure she held eye contact, kept a pleasant, calm smile on her lips, and avoided sounding rehearsed and robotic by adding a slight, gentle Southern drawl to her speech. Meanwhile, she watched for anyone who seemed hesitant or apprehensive, gently easing their worries with a soft smile and an earnest look from her bright blue eyes. She soothed their fears with her expert charm and friendly demeanor.

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