Well there is, and I’m running it.
“With all due respect, Congressman, you won’t need a face to win your election. You’ll need a sharp political mind, experience and determination, all of which I have. While I understand your concerns about stability during this transition, I still have the most hungry, talented team in the business. None of our campaigns will suffer.”
“Like I said, I’ll keep you in mind.”
I want to tell him he can keep this middle finger in mind, but then I remember how much I actually like him—that I agree with him on policy, on principle. That I honestly believe the things he wants to do might just transform the lives of the working poor and middle class in my home state. That means something to me. It’s the bigger picture, and it’s worth me setting my pride and ego aside long enough to wait for the answer I want.
Daddy used to say don’t talk about it. Be about it. The fastest way to shut up someone who thinks you can’t do something is to do something. Two years since he passed away, and his words continue to guide me every day.
“Yes, please keep me in mind, Congressman,” I say, executing an internal whoosah. “I admire Anthony deeply and respect all he’s done, but I think I’m the best person to lead you to victory in Georgia. I hope you’ll come to agree.”
He chuckles. “No one can ever say you lack confidence, Kimba.”
“I’m a woman, a black woman at that, working in a male world. If I waited on other people to believe in me, I wouldn’t get very far, and neither would my clients. And I take my clients far, Congressman.” I let that sink in because we both know I just took one to Pennsylvania Avenue. “Get in touch when you’re ready to talk.”
He’s one of the good ones. That rare politician who isn’t a narcissist and who is actually in it for the people more than for himself. Because it’s always a little for ourselves. While I wait for him to arrive at the right conclusion—that we should work together—I’ll do a little work on my own. I’ll search for things like tucked-away mistresses, hidden drug habits, brushed-under-the-rug convictions. Every closet has skeletons. I like to drag my candidates’ dirty secrets out into the open before we even begin. If I can dig and find them, so can anyone else. I’m an on the offensive kinda girl, so I dig first and I dig deep.
“I’ll be in touch,” he says. “Either way.”
Motion at the office door distracts me. My assistant, Carla, taps her watch and lifts her brows to disappear beneath purple-tinted bangs. My next appointment must be here. Considering who my next appointment is, I’m surprised she didn’t just burst through the door. After all, this used to be her company, too.
“Congressman, I have to go.” We disconnect and Carla smiles her satisfaction as she turns to leave.
My office door opens and a huge man walks in, speaking into a mic at his sleeve, his bulk shrinking the room.
“Excuse me?” I toss my cell phone onto the desk and lean my hip against the edge. “Did you just barge into my office?”
“I have to clear the space before the First Lady enters,” he intones absently, walking around the room and checking I suppose for explosives.
“Uh-huh. I figured, but they do teach you to knock at the Secret Service, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, a little color creeping into his cheeks. “Sorry about that.”
“We all clear?” I ask with a teasing smile.
“All clear,” he says into the mic, allowing a small smile of his own.
I quickly forget his rudeness when Lennix rushes in, arms extended.
“Kimba,” she says, squeezing me like I’m a raft in rushing rapids. “Thank God.”
I squeeze her back and then pry her arms from my neck after a few seconds. “Whoa, there, little koala.”
“I’m sorry.” She pulls away, grinning wryly. “I’m just glad to
see a normal person.”
She glances over her shoulder to where Secret Service man stands at the door like a centurion.
“Hal, thank you for checking the room,” Lennix says. “You can wait outside.”
Uncertainty skitters across his face for a moment, tightening the corners of his eyes and lips. He opens his mouth, probably poised to object, but Lennix holds up one hand and points to the door with the other.
“Thank you, Hal.”
He turns to leave and closes the door behind himself.
“He’s new,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And zealous.”