The iCongressman, page 22
part #2 of The Michael Bennit Series Series
“This contest went late into the night two years ago, but we can call it early tonight. After seeing an approval rating that dipped well below fifty percent, Michael Bennit has rebounded to retain his seat in a convincing win …”
The rest of the announcement is drowned out by the thunderous cheer erupting from the gathering at the Buzz. It is the first time we’ve gotten to celebrate the result on an election night. Two years ago was a very different emotion, and the special election in the spring, although a convincing win, lacked any of the dramatic coverage you see when the entire nation goes to the polls in November.
I gladly accept all the handshakes and hugs from all the people around me who worked so hard. The victory is equally sweet for my staff, especially the ones at college who seemed desperate to get caught up in the moment once again. But for as happy as I am, something dark is nagging at me and I can’t seem to get it out of my mind, no matter how hard I try to tamp it down.
* * *
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m completely smoked,” Xavier says, crashing awkwardly into one of the plush chairs tucked into the corner of the coffeehouse.
“I wasn’t this tired cramming for final exams last year,” Peyton says, sprawled out in her own chair.
“You guys do this every day?” Emilee asks Chelsea and Vince.
“Yeah, sorta. Although life in D.C. isn’t nearly as intense as an election day is.”
“C’mon, guys, you’re in college. You can’t tell me you aren’t used to nights a lot later than this,” Vince challenges.
“Yeah, but most of those involved a drink in my hand,” Amanda states.
“La, la-la, la-la,” I sing out with my fingers plugged into my ears. My avoidance is less the fact that they aren’t legal, but more because I still think of them as my students.
“Nice victory speech tonight, Congressman,” Vince says. “You struck the perfect tone.” The others all chime in with their agreement.
“Thank you, all,” I say with a playful bow. At that moment, Brian and Vanessa return from the other side of the shop. I may be tired of staring at the TV, but that doesn’t apply to them. “What’s the word, guys?”
“You can tell the network news guys are tired. They’re getting increasingly cranky,” Brian opines. “Ohio went blue, as did Florida. Looks like the Democrats will win the White House.”
“A surprise, but that only makes the majority in the House that much more important to the GOP.”
“There are going to be at least a dozen recounts, and they have only called ninety-five of our hundred races, outside of you and Congressman Reyes.”
“And?” I ask. Having to pose for pictures and shake the hands of a few hundred people tonight, I am a little out of the loop as to what is happening nationwide.
“And if nothing changes, it looks like seventy-seven of the icandidates upset forty-five Republicans and thirty-two Democrats for seats.”
Everyone in the room erupts in applause, including an exhausted Laura who is still cleaning up behind the coffee bar. It is an amazing accomplishment, and not hard to understand why the media was making such a big deal about it tonight.
“I have a question, Congressman.”
“Shoot.”
“Why were you getting questions about a third party after your address?” Vince asks.
“I thought it was just me! I got, like, five questions about it,” Peyton adds.
“Nope, I got three myself,” Vanessa points out.
“I got two,” Xavier stammers, half asleep in his chair.
“So did I,” Amanda murmurs, now seated on the floor and rubbing her temples.
“And now we know why,” Kylie chimes in after Laura lets her and Blake in the front door and then locks it behind her. “The press was expecting to hear about the eventuality of forming a third party. Naturally, they were curious why they didn’t. I can’t imagine where they got the idea from.”
“I’ll give you three guess, but you’ll only need one.”
“Senator Viano,” Chelsea answers just to keep everyone on the same page. Blake sits on the table next to her, prompting her to get up and choose another seat without looking at him. I have no idea what that’s about, but I hope Kylie fills me in on whatever drama is brewing between them now.
“Explains why she spent so much time in the tent tonight,” Vince laments.
“Why would she want to form another political party?” Brian asks, just verbalizing what everyone in the room is wondering.
“Yeah, is there something I’m missing here?” Peyton poses, looking around for help.
“What aren’t you telling us, Mister B?” Time to come clean.
“Senator Viano approached me right before they announced our win to convince me to unite the independents under the banner of a new party.”
I expected everyone to be a little more shocked, but nobody shows more than token surprise. I anticipated something like this from Viano, and so did Kylie, but the fact everyone else did as well shows how little trust she earned with the group. All eyes turn to Blake, some out of curiosity and others flashing contempt.
“Got something you want to tell us, there, buddy?” Vince asks in a threatening tone. There is no love lost between those two.
Blake launches into a narrative of his suspicions and the story she told him when he confronted her in the hotel room tonight. His explanation is sound, but most of my college-aged staff isn’t impressed. I’m not sure if I am either.
“You believe her?” the quietest and most sensitive to betrayal amongst us questions.
“No, Emilee, not for a second. Viano is nothing if not an opportunist. She has something up her sleeve so sensitive she won’t share it with me.”
“More importantly, why should we believe you?” Amanda asks in the most disdained way possible.
“You don’t have a good track record in the honesty department, Blake,” Peyton chimes in.
“You’re the one working for her. This could just be a part of her ruse,” Brian concludes.
“I wish I could give you all a convincing reason to believe me,” Blake says in his defense, “but I know I can’t. I’m not going to ask you to trust me. All I can tell you is everything I said is one hundred percent true. Whether you believe me or not is entirely up to you.”
“That’s an easy decision,” Vince states.
“Why do we really care about Viano?” Amanda asks, trying to figure out the relevance after a few awkward seconds tick by.
“For one thing, it’s about to become the next big story. If she laid groundwork for this in the media, they are going to wonder why we are changing our minds.”
“It’s bigger than that, Kylie,” Blake corrects. “I just did some rough math in my head. Vanessa, you said there were forty-five Republicans and thirty-two Democrats losing their seats, right?”
“Yeah, why?
I do some quick math of my own. “Oh, crap.”
“What?” Chelsea asks, finally saying something with Blake in the room. He looks at her, and then the rest of the group.
“Subtract that from the current balance of power and you get seventy-nine Independents …”
“One hundred seventy-eight Republicans and …” A shiver of dread creeps up my spine.
“One-hundred seventy-eight Democrats,” the love of my life finishes.
“A tie?” several of the staff say at once.
“I didn’t think that was even possible,” Amanda states.
“In a traditional two-party system, it isn’t,” Kylie responds. “Add even one independent into the mix and the odd number of representatives no longer matters.”
“What are the odds of there ever being a tie?” Emilee posits.
“I think there’s a better chance of getting struck by lightning on the way to claim a Powerball jackpot at high tide, during a full moon, when Mercury is in retrograde.”
“You know the media is going to go bonkers over this if it holds up,” Vince correctly surmises.
“What does that mean for us?”
I lean back in the chair to let this new found knowledge sink in. In my wildest dreams I never imagined something like this would happen. Assuming the results stay this way after all the recounts and lawsuits. There will be no shortage of those, given this new political reality.
“Did I ever tell you guys about the kid who couldn’t add?” I ask, honestly forgetting what I have and have not told them over the years since we shared a classroom together.
“Oh, God. Here comes today’s history lesson,” Vince deadpans to the rest of the group.
“Math teachers love to inspire their students by telling the tale of this eccentric German kid who could never manage to do well on his exams. They rant and rave that he was clueless, and if he could learn to do it, so could they. Any guesses who I am talking about?”
“Albert Einstein,” Brian answers, probably having heard the story before.
“Gold star for you, Bri.”
“So that wasn’t the truth?” Peyton asks, disappointed. She may have been one of the students the math teachers were trying to encourage.
“Not even close. Einstein was a mathematical prodigy, and better at calculus at age twelve than we will ever be. He believed school was holding him back, and was so advanced that he probably should have been teaching the class.”
“So who started the lie?”
“A 1935 article in Ripley’s Believe It or Not! is widely considered the source, but that’s not the point.”
“They made it up? Crap, I knew I shouldn’t have used them as a source in my last essay,” Xavier laments. I seriously hope he’s kidding.
“How does this possibly relate to us and a tie in the House?” Amanda asks, still massaging her temples.
“We’re the new Einstein. Everybody thought we couldn’t play the political game, but are now figuring out that we’re more of a threat than they ever imagined. We’re now the brightest blip on the radar of some very powerful people who stand to lose a lot of influence and money because of what we helped pull off tonight.”
I think back to our conversation with Nyguen a few days ago and wonder what’s going through his head now. If he believed we might be a target then, what would he say about creating a power vacuum in the House? When contemplating the fallout of our little revolution, this would have been at the end of my list of possible consequences.
I meet Kylie’s eyes and don’t like what I see—fear. My job is to protect her and make her feel safe. What I see is the opposite. I see the love of my life terrified at the possibility that anything Terry Nyguen said would come true. We can handle scandals and smear campaigns, but once he introduced the element of physical danger, Kylie started to become unhinged.
“The stakes have gone way up from once upon a time when we only wanted to beat the incumbent congressman from our district. I need you guys to be vigilant about what you are doing in school. Be careful who you get close to, what you post on social media, and where you go. Most of all, watch each other’s back.”
“Do you think they could come after us?” Peyton says with a hint of concern. Considering she was one of Beaumont’s targets during the first campaign, it would figure she would be most sensitive to a possible repeat of that trauma.
I am purposely watering down this warning, and Chelsea and Kylie both know it. Scaring them is counterproductive, and we don’t really have any concrete information. I value honesty and integrity, but I also value not terrifying my staff without good reason to do so.
“I don’t know, Peyton. The game has changed. Getting some independents elected is bad enough, but having no majority party creates a whole new set of problems. Both parties will go nuts trying to get a majority, and I don’t need a Magic 8-Ball to tell me it’s a real possibility if they get desperate enough.”
“But why us?” Vanessa asks. Kylie glances at me and then handles the answer to the question exactly like she thinks the political elites will. It is also the reason why she may be more fearful than ever.
“Because you guys led the movement that just broke the U.S. House of Representatives.”
PART III
FORMING A MORE PERFECT UNION
-FORTY-EIGHT-
SPEAKER ALBRIGHT
My conference room on the second floor of the Capitol offers a view of the Mall from its three windows as majestic as the one from my office. Under these vaulted ceilings, and classically designed walls with ornate gilded moldings, is the only place I can get a moment of peace since legislators have begun to reassemble for the lame duck session.
Nothing substantial usually happens during the last session of the year. It’s only been a week since the election, and congressmen who have lost their seat are not eager to vote on bills after being cast out by the people in their districts. And for this particular session, there have been a lot of casualties. The seismic shift of political success has left us with an untenable situation.
There is a loud series of raps at the door before it opens, and my most important appointment of the day enters. I have been engaged in meeting after meeting since the moment I set foot back in town. The capital is in an uproar over the results of the election, and honestly, even I’m stunned at the result. Lawsuits are pending in states across the country, and the media is going crazy with their coverage to cash in on the drama. In the end, I don’t think it will matter. Despite the legal maneuvering and pressure being applied, the result will be the same, and we have to figure out how to handle the consequences.
“Come on in and have a seat,” I say, pointing to the large, twenty-five-foot-long mahogany table. “I’m glad you decided to accept my invitation.”
“I was a little surprised to get it, Mister Speaker,” Blake Peoni says, taking his seat at one of the high-backed chairs surrounding the table.
He’s probably not as surprised to receive it as I was in needing to send it. In my dealings with James Reed, I came across some information that Blake worked as a minor functionary for the Ibram & Reed firm. That in itself is unimportant until you consider he moonlights as a liaison between Marilyn Viano and Michael Bennit. A strange relationship considering Reed is so bent on removing Bennit. Politics may make strange bedfellows, but this is the equivalent of Yankee fans rooting for the Red Sox to win the World Series.
“Things are pretty sensitive down here in Washington. I honestly almost decided not to send this invite.”
“I almost didn’t accept it,” Blake says glibly. “What can I help you with, Mister Speaker?” The direct approach. I can work with that.
“I need a question answered. Does Michael Bennit know who your current employer is?”
Blake grasps the small triangular pin on his lapel. It looks like something military, but it is not a unit I’m familiar with. Either way, he somewhat unconsciously straightens it and says nothing.
“I didn’t think so. I find it odd that you would be working for a man like James Reed while working with Marilyn Viano to support the Bennit campaign.”
“Mister Speaker, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I don’t like it. I don’t owe you any explanations, so make your point or I’m out of here.”
“No need to get defensive, Blake, I’m not playing games with you. This isn’t an attempt to blackmail you or manipulate you in any way. The way I see it, you’re between a rock and a hard place.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Marilyn Viano and James Reed are like oil and water. They are supporting different goals, yet you are working for both. Sooner or later, something has to give. It’s like playing in the middle of a busy street—you risk getting hit from traffic in both directions.”
Blake says nothing, apparently trying to figure out how much I know. After a few moments of awkward silence, he finally says something of interest.
“If you’re trying to figure out where my loyalty lies, the answer is neither,” he says with hardness in both his voice and eyes. The response surprises me, although I doubt he’s telling me the truth. “My loyalty lies with Bennit.”
“Michael Bennit. Washington D.C.’s own caped crusader,” I muse. “I know all about your history with him. You ran quite the smear campaign for Winston Beaumont before he got issued an orange jumpsuit. Do you think Bennit is ever going to trust you, especially after you finally tell him who your current employer is? Believe me, he won’t.”
“Don’t be so sure, Mister Speaker.”
I get out of my chair and move over to one of the windows facing out on the Mall. It’s a gray day, matching the mood in this town. Tourists mingle between the monuments and museums of The Smithsonian, oblivious to the atmosphere in the Capitol they helped create on Election Day.
To a lesser extent, Blake is too. Michael Bennit may have meant well with his push to get independents elected, but the result is a crisis never before seen in the lower chamber. The U.S. House of Representatives is set up to work in a two-party system. It requires a minority and majority party to function and an influx of representatives with no party affiliation upsets the balance of power. A third party coming into existence, as the rumors spreading like wildfire around town have been speculating, is a bad dream. Having no majority party and no consensus on a Speaker is a certifiable nightmare.
I think back to the file Reed handed me before the election. It’s the nuclear option, but I think it’s the only one I’m going to be left with, and I’m going to need a strong player to get it passed.
“After everything that happened between you and Bennit, you still think he trusts you?” I turn and face him. “Does his staff?” That strikes a nerve with him.
“We have a history, yes, but I’m not going to give any of them a reason not to trust me moving forward. Ever.”
“I understand, and that is admirable. Let me ask you an unrelated question. Both parties are going to do whatever it takes to sway the icandidates to their side. Do you think any of them will?”
