ALL IN: Race for the White House
Read ALL IN: Race for the White House Online
Authors: Greg Sandora
Excerpt: Love, Lust, and Loyalty
ALL IN: Race for the White House
Jack Canon's American Destiny
Greg Sandora
Copyright © 2015 by Greg Sandora
All rights are reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, businesses, places, characters, incidents, and events either are the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my mother, Sylvia Sandora, whose passing ignited the passion in me to begin writing this book. In addition, to my father, Joseph Sandora, who died five and a half months later, almost to the day I finished. I hope they love it.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my beautiful wife of 30 years, Kathy, whose first edit helped to shape the story and bring the characters to life. Her patience, dedication and selfless sacrifice helped make my dream of writing this book possible.
CHAPTER ONE
I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. Dangerous men in military uniform stopped us at a checkpoint. Soldiers hollered back and forth waving weapons, searching our things, taking anything they wanted. An emaciated boy with skin so thin it strained to cover his veins approached one guerrilla. Crying out, eyes bulging from hollow sockets, the child’s spindly arms grasped the soldier’s leg. The helpless act was answered by the butt end of a rifle, sending the child violently to the ground. Semi convulsing, blood gushing from his head, the boy curled up in a tiny brown ball and went to sleep. At least that’s what my mom told me.
That scene played repeatedly in my head growing up. It made me sad, but mostly furious, that life could be so unfair. Our family missionary trip to Africa meant to teach us love, compassion, and understanding had burned a fire in my belly so intense it stayed with me throughout my life. Even at a tender age, I knew someday I’d change this cruel and unjust world. That was many years ago.
A long recession has brought difficult times. Many in the working middle class are unemployed or have fallen below the poverty line. Millions have lost their homes. People lucky enough to have jobs are doing double the load, working every day with a lump in their throat, feeling disposable, and fearing they’re next. In a sick twist, Government bailed out Big Business and Big Banks but screwed the people. Honest Americans are feeling anxiety, shame and hopelessness as suicides, domestic violence, and homicides are climbing to an all-time high.
Oh, there are still guys buying Ferraris, but the disparity between rich and poor has become obscene. The wealthy have become fat, picking off the laboring carcass of a foreclosed middle class. The underlying greed is unconscionable.
I’m the Senior Democratic Senator from Kentucky. My name is John Canon; people call me Jack. Though my brown hair has earned a touch of gray, I can’t complain, serving a second term in the most powerful city on earth. I don’t work out as much, but I’ve learned what good clothes can do. The biggest eye opener of my political career so far: an unsuccessful bid for the Presidency. It was a major shock to find out what it’s really going to take to fulfill my destiny: To someday have the power, to dedicate the highest office in the land, to make things right. This time,
I’m ALL IN.
Sandy Collins, my assistant, sticks her head in, peeking around the door, “Morning, how yah doing?”
“I’m alright - working on some lines for my stump speech.” Sandy is my right hand and more importantly my best friend. It only makes sense, though, at eight years old my best friend was a girl, I loved holding her hand.
Men are hard-wired to want women like Sandy. She’s a drop-dead knockout, likes her heels, which put her about five-nine, and wears her blonde hair straight, pulling it into a ponytail at least part of the day. Her only negative, she’s a bit naïve for someone turning thirty-two.
“Jack, did you want me to do all your Christmas shopping again this year?” Sandy had great taste in gifts. She put a lot of thought into her choices, usually hitting a home run with my family, especially the kids. It’s like she was tuned into what my girls would want.
Ignoring her question, “Listen to this,” speaking my notes as I’m writing, “this country is being run by elitists who couldn’t care less about ordinary Americans.”
I’d actually written, couldn’t give one sweet shit, but adjusted it for a broader audience.
“The system is badly broken, the wealthiest Americans have profited unfairly, taking advantage of an increasingly helpless public.”
Bud, my campaign manager, chief of staff, and close friend for the past 15 years enters the office mid-sentence.
“Devastated by the economy, the rich have gamed the system, bought everything up on the cheap. Greed threatens our way of life.”
Sandy commented, “It sounds bleak.”
“Jack, I’ve arranged for the transfers.” Bud was being careful with Sandy in the room. He’d gotten me elected to the senate, but despite several tries going all the way back to McGovern he’d never won a presidential campaign.
“Bud, say it straight, if we can’t trust Sandy, we’re done.”
“Alright.” Bud turned to her, “We got our asses handed to us the first time around cause Jack here didn’t want to break the law. This time, I’m funneling large donations into Super PACs that we’ll control.”
“Bud, Sandy’s in the thick of this with us. Honey, you know we aren’t supposed to be getting the money
for them
. Let alone this crazy kind of money. If anyone finds out, we’re all going to jail.”
Sandy said, “Give me some credit boys, I get it. Besides, you’re only doing what everybody else does already.”
Bud cautioned, “Never before to this degree. When the Republicans are coming after us, we’re going to need every dime to fight off the attack.”
Politics is a tricky game and, lucky for me, Bud was an expert player. I’m excited to have a guy like him with only one thing left to prove. This was to be Bud’s last time out of the gate. His doctors told him his heart wasn’t up to handling the stress of another major campaign. He was willing to put it all on the line because he believed in me, but deep down in my heart, I knew that more than life itself, Bud Singer wanted to go out with the win.
Bud spent a lot of time on the cocktail circuit and at charity events rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, lining up contributions. He looked in Sandy’s direction, to engage her directly, “The Country my father knew was built on cheap energy. Families of the fifties could live well on one income. We took weekend joy rides in the country – in big heavy gas guzzlers, for the fun of it.” He looked at me then back to Sandy.
“Remember the station wagons, Jack? People moved to the suburbs in droves. Our factories were busy making all kinds of products – Made in America was the sign of Quality. We were a nation of producers, not just consumers. That’s changed now. This country is going to the dogs.”
Sandy wasn’t even faking interest in Bud today, she told me once he reminded her of a sinister figure, a shorter version of Orson Wells in a suit. Even when Bud worked at it, he never held her attention for long.
“Jack, I was serious before, do you want me to get started on your presents? I was in Macy’s the other day listening to Christmas music. It’s getting to be that time of year again.”
Sandy was making every effort to get my undivided attention. She stood in front of me, bent over my laptop and looked chin out into my eyes, “The stores have been decorated since Halloween.”
“We’ve still got over a month,” – then I thought for a second.
“Maybe you could pick up a couple of gifts for the kids and help me with a few ideas for Sarah’s. I’ll go get those, myself.”
“Great, I’ll put together a tentative list and we’ll go over it when you can focus.”
Sandy turned and did an exaggerated one-foot-crossing-the-other walk, accentuating her hip movements as she left the room. If she wasn’t getting my attention in the room, she was determined to get it going out.
Bud shook his head, “She’s a tease.”
“She’s right, you don’t give her much credit, remember she graduated cum laude from Boston.”
“In journalism, for Pete’s sakes, Jack, get real.”
“You don’t like reporters.”
“No, really, don’t you think it’s odd that in all the years you’ve known Sandy she’s never had a boyfriend. Hell, I don’t ever remember her having a date.”
“What are you getting at?”
“She’s a beautiful woman, where I come from, there’s a line around the block for a girl like that.”
“Well, for one thing she never stops working, you know, sometimes she’s texting me late into the evening.”
“She should put herself out there, get married.”
“I’ve begged her to take some time off, but she never does.”
“What a waste.”
Bud was right, Sandy didn’t have much of a personal life; it was my fault, I had her managing both the Campaign Administrative Staff and the Senate Office.
“I never thought I’d say this, but we may be working the girl too hard, Jack.”
“I’ve taken her out a couple of times after work for Martinis.”
“Does she ever mention her personal life?”
“Not really, we talk mostly about work and me being president. She really wants it for me.”
Sandy usually accompanies me on business trips to help me stay organized. She’s a kindred spirit and knows first-hand the difficulties of being a Senator.
“Jack, running for president can rip you apart if you are not ready. I hope she understands that we’re in a dogfight, any misstep in this arena and they’ll eat us alive. You know how I worry.”
“Relax she knows we’ll do whatever it takes to win.”
“But can she keep it to herself?”