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“No. I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Dana, people like Ivey have two primary issues with Candace.”

“Go on.”

“She’s a woman who is married to a woman.”

“Some people,” Dana says.

“Dana, come on.”

“Okay. Most,” Dana concedes. “Not all, JD.” Dana holds up her hand. “You poll well.”

I roll my eyes. I hate this stuff. I hate that anyone polls my popularity or Candace’s. Plus, I don’t believe in polls.

“Okay,” Dana says. “You don’t like that anyone polls popularity. I know that.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t trust polls. Who do they poll? Come on. I’m forty-five. I’ve never been polled aboutanything. I don’t think I know one person who has ever been polled.”

“It’s a sample.”

“Yeah—you think you can sample two hundred or even two thousand people and have any indication of what the masses think or feel?”

“It’s scientific,” Dana argues.

“It’s nonsense. Look, if you want me to do this becauseyoubelieve it’s helpful, I will do it. Don’t talk polls to me.”

“I do think it will help. That interview will help us hold the Senate. It might even help with a few seats in the House.”

“I doubt it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Dana says. “People like you.”

“And you know this because polls tell you.”

“I don’t need a poll to tell me.”

I pass Dana a pint of vanilla ice cream and pop the lid off a pint of pistachio ice cream for myself. It's no wonder Candace’s jeans are tight.

“JD?”

“Huh?”

“You disappeared again.”

“I was just thinking I’ll probably get fat by the time Candace launches the next campaign.”

“What?”

I hold up the ice cream. “Candace drowns her sorrows and stress in ice cream. I prefer burgers—and fries.”

Dana laughs. “This is why people like you.”

“Because I like burgers and fries?”

“In a way, yes.”

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