Page 13 of Power Play

“Put me on the ticket. Make me your running mate. The VP.” I pause, allowing my words to settle through the phone. “It’ll make a bigger impact toward winning the White House. I can do it, I know I can. With me being mayor here plus my law degree, I’ll figure it out. I meet the basic qualifications and okay yeah I don’t have a lot of experience, but I swear I’ll make it work. Hell, even a helmet-wearing monkey is more qualified than the idiot who's in the role currently. Anyone can do a better job than him, and that someone is me.”

“You're fucking with me right now.”

I shake my head. “No I'm not. I won't be Poverty Barbie who you can flounce around as your good deed. If you want the White House, if you want the most powerful position in the world, then list me as the vice president. I know it’s a crazy idea but what do you have to lose? It’s either this or nothing for me.”

Nothing. His deep breaths huffing across the mouthpiece are the only indication he’s still on the line. The silence is a good sign. It means he's considering it, not telling me to fuck off and ending the call. If he’s not considering it, then I’ve fucked over my daughter's future. No pressure.

I rake a couple fingers through my nasty, dirty hair. A minute passes of deafening silence. I bob on the balls of my feet, attempting to get some feeling back in my toes.

“I'm inclined to tell you to fuck off and watch you fail miserably at life, but if I say yes to your proposal, then I’ll have a front row seat to your failure here in DC.”

“I won't fail.” I flick the cigarette butt to the ground and grind it into the gray gravel with the toe of my shoe. No way. Not happening. This is my shot to get ahead, to prove to everyone, prove to myself, that I'm more than what I was born into.

His condescending laugh rattles through the phone, and my upper lip curls in a snarl. “Oh, but you will, Walmart. You think you can play with the most powerful people in the world and win with no experience? I'm questioning your intelligence. They will chew you up before you even start the campaign.”

“Aw,” I coo, faking surprise. “You do care about me.”

“I care about winning. Tell you what. I'll pitch your ludicrous proposal to my advisors and campaign manager. I’ll send for you when I know more. Just to make sure I understand this correctly, it’s either the vice president position or nothing. Correct?”

“Correct.” I swallow hard against the knot building in my throat.

“If I propose this, there’s no going back. If we lose, there will be no ongoing funds since you won’t be my legal wife. Understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand everything, Kyle.” Shit, didn’t think about that side effect. If we do this, it means we have to win.

“Also know that the man who’s currently slated as my running mate will not be happy if he’s kicked off the ticket. If this does work, know you'll have a target on your back.”

That's mysteriously ominous.

I open my mouth to ask what he means but snap it shut at the void on the other end of the phone. Peeling it from my ear, I scan the black screen and let out an incredulous snort. Of course the douche hung up on me.

Tapping the edge of the phone against my thigh, I again stare up into the dark night sky. My pulse races as the reality of the situation sinks deep.

I’m crazier than anyone gives me credit for. Vice president? For fuck’s sake.

“Damn idiot,” I mutter.

Now I wait and maybe run by Mom’s to take a shower.

Hand wrapped around the cold metal handle, I give it a hard tug, swinging the exit door open. Laughter and old country music fill the hall as I make my way back to the bar. With every step, the same two questions repeat over and over in my mind.

What will I do if he says yes?

What will I do if he says no?

Chapter Four

Randi

The wheels of my rolling suitcase quietly whirl down the carpeted hall. Fancy chandeliers dot the long hallway’s ceiling, making the suite of offices appear like a hotel rather than a place of business. Of course, I am in Washington, DC. Maybe people use this space for business and pleasure; the two go hand in hand in our nation’s capital, after all.

Wait.I tilt my nose and inhale deep.Is that vanilla?

Midstep I halt, sniffing the air. Surely this building isn’t piping a yummy scent into their hallways. I spin, eyes falling to the floral wallpaper. What if the wallpaper is scented and that’s what I’m smelling? That would be opulent fancy. I cut my eyes both ways, making sure the coast is clear, and lean toward to the wall. The wallpaper brushes the tip of my nose, but the delectable scent isn't any stronger than when I was a few feet away.

Unless… it could be scratch and sniff—I saw that in a movie once. Forgetting my surroundings, my sole focus on the scent mystery, I scratch a mauve flower with the edge of my serrated nail. Nose pressed firmly to the same spot, I sniff.

“What the hell are you doing?”

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