Page 21 of Primary Season
“Do you know how hard it is to be theonlyDemocratic senator in the great State of South Carolina?” Dwight Jameson said after the waiter at the Palmetto Club poured a round of coffee for the table. He spoke in a thick, slow, careful drawl. “Do you know how hard I had to fight for this?”
“I can guess,” Patrick said.
“Guessing is all you can do, son. The Republicans don’t know what to make of me. Like seeing a purple leopard in the jungle.” He laughed and gave his daughter a look. “But I like the fight. A challenge is good in life, and it keeps things interesting.”
“And that’s why I’m asking for your endorsement.” Patrick sipped his coffee. “We’ve worked together on several bills in Congress, and we know each other pretty well. I like to think we’re of the same mind on a lot of things.”
“We are.” Dwight paused as another waiter arrived with four servings of chocolate mousse. “But I don’t make it a habit to endorse candidates prior to the primary. Haven’t for the last two cycles, and I don’t plan on doing it this time, either.” He picked up his spoon and gestured at the rest of us. “Dig in.”
As I scooped out my first bite, I cleared my throat. A three-hour dinner with Senator Jameson and his daughter at one of Columbia’s most exclusive clubs hadn’t accomplished a damn thing, and as soon as we finished our desserts, the moment might slip away from us forever.
Time to throw a Hail Mary pass.
“Senator Jameson, why did you run for office in the first place?” I asked, just before I took the first bite of mousse.
“I was young,” the Senator mused, his eyes crinkling. “And I thought I could make a difference. I thought I’d be able to help people.”
“I’m not a reporter.” I smiled. “Give me a real answer.”
Julie Jameson giggled. She hadn’t said much at dinner, either.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Dwight settled into his seat and studied me. “I suppose because I knew that no one else could do the job as well as me. No one else could handle it the way I could.”
“Same with Patrick,” I replied, nodding. “No one else is going to work as hard or do as much as Patrick Blanco. You’ve seen Howard Sayers. Heard from him. Maybe even talked to him. My guess is, you know exactly what we do.”
I leaned forward to get my point home.
“He doesn’t get it. He simply doesn’t, Senator. He doesn’t have Patrick’s experience or the commitment, and I’m not talking about time in elected office. I’m talking about heart. I’m taking about drive. And I’m talking about grit.” I gestured to my boss. “Grit is what separates the ones who try from the ones who succeed. If you endorse him, you won’t regret it.” I lowered my voice. “And trust me, you’ll be the one to ride this train all the way to DC and beyond. He’s going to remember who was there with him first. Don’t you want to be one of them?”
Dwight Jameson studied me for a long breath, and I stared right back at him, willing my words to sink in and take effect. Finally, he grinned. “She’s a pistol, Patrick. Where did you find this one?”
Patrick smiled back at him. “What can I say?” He tapped the table next to my dessert plate. “Alexandra is one of the best. I wouldn’t be where I am without her.”
“I’m not going to make my final decision tonight.” Dwight wiped his mouth with the white cloth napkin. “But I’ll think it over and have someone in my office contact you tomorrow morning. That’s the best I can do.”
“We’ll take it,” Patrick said, not bothering to hide the hopeful excitement in his voice. “I look forward to hearing from you, sir.”
As the four of us finished our meal, the conversation shifted from politics to small talk. Then, as Dwight told a joke, Patrick’s fingers brushed mine under the table.
“You did it,” I said in the elevator once Alex and I returned to the hotel after dinner. I punched the button for our shared floor and the door closed, walling off the two of us. “If he endorses me, it will be because of you.”
Leaning against the elevator railing, she smiled to herself and glanced down at her shoes. “I’m not taking credit for that.”
“You should. We just had a three-hour dinner and no movement on the issue until you stepped in.”
“I was just eager to get out of there.” She looked up at me, and I caught a faint hit of her perfume. “I can only drink so many overpriced glasses of wine at stuffy dinners before I want to leave.”
“Don’t ever run for public office, then. You’ll have to do that, and eat fried butter on a stick at county fairs, barbeque made by local yokels in towns you can’t remember, and pies everyone insists are the best in the nation…” I trailed off and waved a hand.
“Sounds like I should expect to gain an automatic thirty pounds.”
“You’d still be beautiful,” I said, my voice falling, even though no one else would hear us. “Nothing could take that away from you.”
Then I took two steps, shoved her against the elevator wall, and kissed her.
I couldn’t help myself—not that I tried to stop it. My mouth forced hers open and her soft body melted into mine; I knew she liked it, and that she wanted it, too. Our tongues feverishly entwined, and my hands went everywhere in the span of ten seconds. I tangled my fingers in her hair, cupped her jaw, raked my palm across her neck, teased her breasts, and pulled her hips toward mine. Through it all, my lips never broke away from hers.
Until the elevator dinged our arrival and the doors opened to the empty hallway.
