Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“We could have met at Bourbon Steak,” he says, settling into the chair on the other side of my desk. “They do a superb filet mignon. Responsibly sourced. I know that’s your thing.”
“My thing?” I chuckle. “I guess it is. Well, I thought meeting at the Four Seasons on Pennsylvania Avenue, no less, with the DNC chair would send a very loud, public message that could be premature.”
“Premature? You have some strong early support. Being seen with me could send an early sign of power for you.”
“You think I need to borrow power from you?” I ask.
He stiffens, a frown pushing the wrinkles of his forehead into irritated folds. “Not exactly borrow, but we both know you have no experience, so maybe it would ease some worry about your leadership.”
I don’t mean to laugh; it just happens. “You would do that for me?” The man’s party is in shambles, and they barely listen to him, so surely he doesn’t expect me to.
“You don’t even have to ask.” He waves a hand, misunderstanding me. “I’d be more than willing to, for the sake of the party.”
“That is practically magnanimous, Chuck. It really is.”
Jin Lei knocks briefly then pokes her head in. “They’re here.”
“Oh, good. Show them in.”
Chuck twists his head around to look at the door. “They?”
“Hunter, Allen and Associates did such a great job for Owen, I thought it would be smart to bring them in as I’m deciding if I want to run.”
“If you don’t mind me saying so”—Chuck leans forward and lowers his voice—“those ladies are troublemakers sometimes.”
“I actually do mind you saying so, and it’s what I like about them most.” I give him a hard look as Kimba and Lennix enter. “Ladies, hi. Thanks for coming.”
Lennix and Kimba take a seat on either side of Chuck, both crossing their legs and folding their arms over their chests.
“I was thinking that we, uh, would get some time alone,” Chuck says, glancing from one woman to the other. “To discuss next steps.”
“Yes, well, as you mentioned, I’m so inexperienced and lack any real leadership, so having these experts involved is very helpful to a novice like me.”
Kimba snorts. Her eyes twinkle at me across the desk. Lennix, however, has barely looked at me since she entered. I know she doesn’t want anyone to think we’re romantically involved, but hell.
“What are we here to discuss exactly, Chuck?” Kimba asks.
“There’s a lot of buzz about Maxim running for president.”
“We’re aware,” Lennix says.
“And I want to talk to him about being the Democratic nominee.”
“If I’m not mistaken,” Kimba says, “we have a nomination process for that. Starts with Iowa and goes through all the states. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“Yes, that is the formal process, of course,” Chuck says, “but we all know that if I back Maxim—”
“Then you control me?” I ask. “Good luck with that.”
“Not control, per se,” he says. “Guide. A young man such as yourself with so little experience will need some more seasoned players to ease the public’s concerns.” He shrugs, studies his fingernails. “I could even join the ticket as VP. Our combination of youth and wisdom may be exactly what this country needs.”
“Backroom deals won’t decide the next president,” Lennix says. “The people will. Do you have anything else for us to hear besides your backhanded compliments and posturing?”
His mouth drops open and snaps closed like a turtle’s. “You need me. If you think you’ll make it far without the party’s backing, you’re wrong. And if you want Middleton to win, then run. You’ll only peel off support from the Democratic nominee and you’ll both lose to Middleton.”
“Last I checked,” Kimba says, “about 29 percent of Americans identify as Democrats.”
“And about 27 percent as Republicans,” Lennix adds.
“And how many say they’re independent, Lenn?” Kimba asks.
“Wow. It’s like 42 percent.”
“Wow. That’s a lot.”
“But they vote blue or red, even if they’re independent,” Chuck reminds them smugly.
“That’s because they haven’t had a viable independent option,” Lennix says. “And I think Maxim Cade is more than viable. Did you see the poll today in The Times?”
Chuck turns red and smooths his tie.
“He may have missed it,” Kimba says. “Let’s help him. The poll put Maxim up against Republican and Democratic candidates.”
“He won a majority in each scenario,” Lennix says coolly. “Even against Middleton. Now, it was a very narrow margin, of course, but that is with mere speculation since Maxim hasn’t officially announced his candidacy. We haven’t even started working.”
“Right now, believe it or not,” Kimba says, “we have the advantage.”
“I disagree.” Chuck laughs. “The idea of an independent winning a presidential election isn’t something most Americans can even wrap their heads around, so they’ll do what they’ve always done. Vote red or blue.”
“I beg to differ.” I speak up for the first time in minutes, since Kimba and Lennix were doing such a great job. “I’m sure you know what the Overton window is, right? We talk a lot about it in business. I know you don’t think that’s acceptable experience, but having someone who runs a profit-bearing international enterprise might come in handy for an entity, America in this case, carrying over twenty trillion dollars in debt.”