Page 32 of Primary Season
True to prediction, the grenade-like accusation came about ten minutes into the hour-long debate.
Governor Sayers and I stood twenty feet apart from each other on the stage, each of us flanked by a semicircle of American and South Carolinian flags. Behind us, a large board of slick graphics rotated between red, white, and blue, all of them designed just for the myriad of TV cameras in the media pool and across the auditorium hall. The moderators sat before us at a small table; beyond them and the bright stage lights, stretched the audience.
In the middle of answering a question about moral values, Howard Sayers turned to me. “I agree with most voters in this state—-what a man does in his personal life is almost as important as what he does when in public service. You don’t seem to understand that.”
A small rumble traveled through the crowd. The debate hadn’t been very exciting, and they seemed intrigued by the change in atmosphere that came with Sayers’s words.
“My opponent surrounds himself with women. He can’t keep himself in check.” Howard’s scratchy voice rose. “He has one beautiful woman by his side, but just this week, we heard about another more scandalous affair. A young college student who says she’s carrying his child. Acollege student,folks. A woman he slept with, then discarded as if—”
“Governor Sayers,” I rebutted in a stern but respectful tone. “You are way out of line. What you’ve said is unfounded, and unsubstantiated.”
“I hardly think so. We’re not just talking about abuse of power. If you’ve slept with her, who else have you slept with? The voters have a right to know what they’re getting, and it starts with understanding that you’re a womanizer who—”
“Governor Sayers.” Darla Martin interrupted him before I could. “Governor Sayers, the paternity of Ms. Parker’s child, and those accusations have not been—”
“What? Proven? Ms. Martin, from where I stand, that woman is a victim. She gave herself over to a cruel system, and she should be believed. How could she have known a man like this would betray her?”
I stared at Howard Sayers as the words fell out of his mouth. He was good, very good, and worst of all, he knew it. But I was better.
I smiled at the South Carolinians, remembering that I needed to keep in control and play to them, not to him. What I said next might alter the race. “Amanda Parker is someone I only briefly met in a reception line after I gave a speech to the graduates of her school. We had maybe ten seconds together.” My small smile turned to a wide grin. “And while I’m good, I hate to say that I’m notthatgood.”
The crowd laughed. They were with me. Thank god.
“The child she is carrying is not mine. I’ve said that before. Unfortunately, I believe Ms. Parker has been given some bad advice. She’s been led astray. In a way, you’re right. She is a victim, but not one victimized by me. My record is spotless. You’ll find that I have been faithful to every woman that I’ve ever dated. I have a wonderful relationship with a fantastic woman.” I gestured to Kathryn, seated in the center of the front row. She smiled on cue as the gallery applauded. “And for that, I am forever grateful.”
The claps grew and Darla turned to Howard. “Governor Sayers?”
“Well, I—” He struggled for a breath, and I knew my words had done more than just a scratch. “I’m sure the next few weeks will reveal a lot about my opponent, the nature of this race, and much more. We haven’t heard the last of this, I promise.”
“Very well, then,” Darla said at a fast clip, clearly ready to move on with her questions. She raised her pen and gestured to me. “Turning now to foreign policy. Senator Blanco, the looming threat of ISIS and the ongoing threat of lone-wolf attacks…”
The rest of that debate faded into a mess of soft edges and blurred lines. I heard her question, and answered it with something the audience seemed to find satisfactory, but even as I stayed on my A-game, I couldn’t get Alex out of my mind. And Kathryn. And the mess I’d made of my personal life.
Damn it all to hell.
Leave it to me to get mixed up with a woman I could actually find myself caring for, and right as the things that I’d had years to achieve started to materialize. Leave it to me to meet her on the job. And leave it to me to let my past screw it up.
I needed to fix things. Immediately.
Patrick won the debate. Everyone said so—the national media, social media, the newspapers, and the snap polling of voters taken just after the debate. He won. He slayed Howard Sayers with his charm, honesty, good looks, knowledge of the issues, and grace under pressure.
It wasn’t even close. I woke up to two hundred emails, and they all said the same thing. Patrick Blanco had a real chance to win South Carolina. And from there, anything could happen.Anything.
Feeling satisfied and encouraged, I took my bags down to the bus and returned to the hotel lobby. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the station located by the front desk and sank into the hard leather couch located on the far side of the room.
I was early. Chipper. Ready for anything.
I was also twenty minutes ahead of schedule, so I passed the time by responding to the information and interview requests from the Myrtle Beach newspaper, TV stations, and talk radio stations. Our schedule had us headed there for an afternoon rally on the ocean-side boardwalk. Along with a few political bloggers, we could expect a decent-sized media presence, and our campaign had issued about 300 new e-tickets overnight.
I had just sent off my fifth reply when the elevator doors opened and out strode Doug. When his attention caught mine, his pasty face turned paler. He shoved his hands in his too-loose black slacks and slunk over to me.
“What’s wrong?” I closed my laptop and placed it on the couch next to me. Doug sat down on the wide wooden ottoman that featured a vase full of fake reeds and flowers. He raked a hand through his hair.
“You haven’t seen it?”
“Seen what?”
“Jesus Christ.” He looked away for a beat, then back at me. “You don’t have a Google Alert set up for this kind of thing?”
