Chapter Twenty One
THE END OF a campaign is only the beginning of the work in politics. This is especially true on college campuses. For example, it usually meant the launch of a new kind of campaign – to grab a seat of power in the Senate leadership.
Don Daley was a typical politician-in-training, although his long-term sight was on a much bigger prize. For now, however, he was focused on becoming President of the Student Senate, succeeding Nick Atlee. Using his friendship with Ben Burns, he made Ben a tempting offer – fairer exercise of the appointment process to make qualified people the likely winners of the posts in exchange for Ben’s support for Senate President. He also insisted that friendship would trump politics, now that Ben’s place was in a very lonely Senate minority.
This deal was crucial. The Senate majority, no longer fearing a serious independent candidate, allowed the establishment to put up 2 different candidates, and became split down the middle. When the vote happened, the small minority’s bloc of votes, all of which went to Don’s candidacy, helped to generate a snowball effect further down the roll call of senators. The minority had thus broken the logjam in the majority and gave Don the Senate presidency.
After showing his leadership style in the Senate, with barely a break to breathe, his supporters began pushing Don to run for Student Body President.
Some call this a “permanent campaign” – but others, Ben included, simply describe this as “politics gone Domino”, as one campaign begets another. The work of a politician, then, is never truly over…
FOR ONCE, MIKE did not mind the flashes of photographs being taken. It was a sunny day and he had no reason to eschew fame. At least he didn’t any longer.
Mike was genuinely beaming, as he stepped down to the podium set up at the bottom of the courthouse steps. Unusually cheerful at his side, Adam and Bennita were clearly enjoying themselves at least as much as Mike was.
With a smile all but foreign to him lately, Mike tapped the microphone, and popped the first question (for a change). “Is this thing on?”
The reporters that gathered weren’t exactly expecting him to comment, since they have gotten used to the phrase “no comment” from Mike and his associates over the last few weeks. They had to scramble for their place in front of the podium; but also, and more importantly, they had to locate their note pads.
“Hold on!” someone said from behind Mike.
It was Ashley, running late. Mike smiled. Finally, she has a flaw that I didn’t conjure up myself. She managed to get into the press crowd, with high heels on undamaged by her mad dash to avoid being scooped.
“First things first. I feel that justice has prevailed today. As much as I am dismayed that any friend of mine can be driven to this level of madness, I am glad to see this horrific episode put behind us. And I believe I speak for all of us to say I am glad the government can still deliver top notch representation for the American people!” Mike said to forced applause from those standing behind him.
“Despite what some would have you believe, America is a wonderful country. But it demands a lot of you. It asks that you tolerate success and help those less fortunate, even when you are struggling to make it yourself. But only in America can you be truly freed from your past to determine your own future,” Mike said to more applause, although it was unexpected and volunteered this time.
“Just for the record, production on the film – as far as my talented director is telling me,” Mike said with a nod in Adam’s direction, “is going great. We are still on schedule for a summer release, and I look forward to a great piece of Hollywood magic.”
“As for me, the events of the past few months have led me to one unalterable conclusion. My faith in the American system has never been stronger. Many people faithfully pursued a single goal, and were vindicated for it. For the first time in a long time, I am invigorated by the power that the fight for change can bring.”
With a short breath, Mike continued. “The time is ripe for a great change to sweep across America. And in that vein, I have decided on a course of action that will please my publisher. I will in fact begin work on a sequel to ‘A True Gator Party.’ Hopefully, with it, I will blow apart the stereotypes of those who live and work in Washington.”
Adam Ruppesberger, standing next to Rick Roberts behind their mutual friend, leaned over and whispered to Rick, “I don’t know.”
Rick turned to look at him. “What?”
“I just can’t believe George could afford to be the sole force behind this little adventure. There’s more to this story that someone’s not telling us.”
Adams was finishing his remarks then and opened things up for a few questions. The clamor from the media for attention to their questions was unprecedented. A Court TV reporter offered the first question. “Do you expect an appeal?”
“That is a question for the federal prosecutor, but I for one think George’s mid-testimony confession pretty much negates any such appeal. All he can hope for is a lenient sentencing judge.”
“Will the film crew stay in Gainesville for the duration?” Timothy Cunningham asked next.
“We still have some scenes to shoot, so yeah. Gainesville has been a great place to work in again, and the cooperation we’ve been getting from the University is just phenomenal,” Adam said from behind Mike.
Mike looked over his shoulder to view his friend, and smiled. “I totally agree. I would highly recommend Alachua County for any film crew thinking of filming on location.”
“Is there any chance of you returning to politics?”
Mike did not even have to look in the direction of that question, for he knew it had to have come from only one member of the news media. “Ashley, that’s a good question. But right now, I cannot see any circumstance, any election, and any incentive that would entice me from my current projects. My sister Anne is the one with an active political career.”
“In a follow-up?” Ashley insisted.
“Okay,” Mike said with a sigh.
“There was a poll released recently that suggested you would be tough to beat in a Congressional race, and may even win a statewide race for Senate. Wouldn’t you be a good candidate to deliver, and I quote, ‘a great change to sweep America’? Especially since your ‘faith in America has never been stronger’?”
“Ashley, really, I’m flattered, but my time at the ballot box has long since been over. I had my fun in college, and I won a surprise victory to the U.S. House once. But that’s it. It’s time for this guy to get out of the spotlight and back behind the scenes where he belongs.”
Mike stepped away from the podium. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a movie to make,” he said as he made a mad-dash to his waiting taxicab. That didn’t stop the reporters from teasing out more questions, fleetingly seeking answers.
BENNITA WAS GLAD to make it back to her hotel. As much as it looked like Mike was positively glowing from the jury verdict, Bennita was just glad for it to be all over. I am finally able to sleep at night, she thought as she stepped up to the hotel lobby’s front desk.
A polite, flamboyant young man place one hand on his hips and asked, “And what can I do for you today, girlfriend?”
“Any messages for Bennita Jones?”
“What room number?”
“Nine twenty seven.”
He turned to look at the wall filled with mailboxes. Sure enough, box 927 had a couple things inside its slot. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” she said as she headed for the elevators.
One message was from her parents – they had called and asked about the trial. Hopefully I’ll remember to return their call later today, Bennita thought as she stepped onto a waiting elevator.
The other envelope, however, was another matter entirely. It had no clear markings on the outside, meaning someone had hand-delivered it. It was a white envelope, and a message on a bluish card stock paper.
She began getting nervous, thinking she may have gotten one of the messages Mike ha
d been getting. Calm down, Bennita, the guy’s in jail and couldn’t possibly put this in your box.
Sure enough, she was right. The message was one she had been getting for quite a while, although the tack of hand-delivering it to her hotel room was something new. Will this Radiologists Association stop asking me to take this job?
The elevator, now full, closed in front of her.
ASHLEY WOODARD WAS waiting for him later that day. The humming of his vehicle stopped before he got up and noticed he had a visitor. Ashley was still dressed like she was at the press conference, but she had something in her hands.
“A peace offering?” she suggested.
Mike took the cup of Starbucks coffee. Vanilla frappucino, Mike noted. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” she insisted, as she stepped out of his way and moved her hands down to the front pockets of her denim jeans.
Mike used his free hand to pat her on the shoulder of her blue blouse. “Then, why don’t you come in?” he asked, gesturing to the now-open door, leading to the foyer area of his condo.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the few cautious steps over the threshold and into his apartment.
“What brings you here, other than giving me my favorite cup of coffee?”
She turned to face. With that magical smile of hers, she softly spoke. “No hidden agendas. No interviews. Completely off the record.”
He stepped ever so closer. “Business or pleasure?”
She refused to say, toying with him.
“I know where we can easily see the sunset,” he offered.
“That’d be great.” She said before flipping her hair and turning back toward the parking lot.
Mike dropped everything he had onto the nearby table and followed her out the door. Damn.
And the two of them threw caution to the wind. Mike gave chase after her, only to be met with an even faster sprint away from him. Soon enough, the parking lot was a distant memory, and Lake Alice loomed larger in their field of vision. But neither of them stopped running.
Free of their history, free of the politics, free of work. At last, the two of them could finally be honest to one another.