ROMANCING THE BULLDOG (8 page)

speech about minority students. He was packing up his podium when he spotted Liz in the

crowd. They talked, hit it off right away, and Liz decided, on the spur of that moment, that

this was her opportunity to live her life on her own terms, to finally experience a great

adventure that was everything her father despised. In fact, when she phoned her father and

told him that she was going to “delay” her entrance into Harvard and was traveling to Philly

instead, he hung up in her face.

She never spoke to him again.

Her relationship with Bronson fizzled as quickly and as haphazardly as it had started: within

a matter of months he was off on another urgent crusade and pretty much abandoned her. Liz

was hurt by his sudden disinterest, but she wasn’t mortified, it wasn’t as if she had fallen in

love with Bronson. But it did put her in a dilemma. She had no family in Philly, nowhere

really to go.

What she did have, however, were some associates of Bronson’s that liked her and were

willing to give her a helping hand. They put her up at their place, helped her to find

employment. She was finally getting her sea legs. Before long, however, she had hooked up

with Scotty, the man who would become her husband. She thought he was a real estate

mogul, he even had the office and staff to prove it. What he was, in fact, was a local drug

kingpin and that office and staff was just a front. His arrest, on a cold, dreary December

morning, was the beginning of a downward spiral for Liz that still had her reeling.

“Sorry to bother you, boss,” Shameika Jackson, her young secretary, said as she entered the

office. Liz didn’t hire her, the church did. To Liz she wasn’t exactly secretary material, she

was a little too in your face to be an effective people person, but she was good peeps herself,

and Liz liked her.

“What’s up, Meek?”

“Reverend Wheeler again.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “What is it this time?”

“He’s upset you didn’t make it to church on Sunday. He believes that the youth director

should set an example for the young people she’s leading.”

“I told that man that going to his church is not a part of my job description. I think I should

have the freedom to choose where I want to worship the Lord.”

“I agree. But he seems to be of the opinion, thanks to the spies he has in this neighborhood,

that you didn’t go to anybody’s church on Sunday.”

“He has spies?” Liz asked, surprised.

“You better believe he does. And some of those spies are vindictive, girl, let me tell you.

They think it was wrong for the church to hire a non-member to begin with. A few of those

spies, in fact, believes that the church should have hired them. If your father wasn’t Hamp

Morgan, they said, and your aunt was Hamp Morgan’s sister, you would have never gotten

this position.”

“My father had nothing to do with this,” she said defensively. Then she exhaled. “So that’s

what I’m up against?” she asked.

“You got it,” Shameika replied.

Liz leaned back and nodded. “I’ll deal with Wheeler,” she said. “What about Milo? Have

you heard anything about my request?”

“What request?”

“I asked him two days ago to get me some help. I can’t be expected to handle the youth

division and the seniors and the adult programs, too.”

“Oh, that. Nope, haven’t heard a word. But I have heard that Milo might not be your

biggest fan.”

Liz smiled. AI already figured that one out. He thinks I’m some heathen who only got this

job, not because of my father, but because of my aunt’s close friendship with the pastor’s

wife.”

“But that’s bogus. You ran a community center before in Philadelphia, didn’t you?”

“I ran the agency that funded and oversaw many community centers in Philadelphia, and all

of them were bigger than this one. But I had help. Plenty of it. Which is what I’ve got to

have now.” Then she exhaled again. AI don’t know, Meek, sometimes I feel as if I’m . . .”

“As if you’re what?”

Liz hesitated. “As if I’m being set up to fail.”

Shameika looked at her in shock. “You’re just figuring that out?”

“So it’s true?”

“Of course it’s true! What you think? Here you are, this outsider, who just waltzes in here

as far as they’re concerned and get this plum position.”

“What plum position? This job barely pays my bills!”

“They don’t care about the money. It’s the title they’re after. And they don’t think you,

this young, pretty female who act like she’s got it going on like that, deserves it.”

“And Milo feels this way too?” she asked Shameika.

“Milo, Kirk Thomas, practically all of the leadership of First Bethel. Your aunt and the

pastor’s wife are about the only supporters you have.”

“You talk as if I’m doomed.”

“You probably are.”

‘No, I’m not. They hired me as youth director, not executive director or admin director,

and that’s why I’m going to focus on the youth division. If I fail there, then yeah, they can

blame me. But they aren’t blaming me if the senior division and the Adult programs get

slighted. I’m only one person.”

“Well, three if you count me.”

Liz smiled. “You’re right. I’ll be lost without you.”

“I know that’s right,” Shameika said as she sat a stack of papers on Liz’s desk. “Now will

you sign these requisition orders?”

“For what?”

“Three more computers for the senior division and the adult basic studies program.”

Liz shook her head. She can’t win, she thought, as she signed.

***

aides hurrying behind him. One of them, Carl Browning, his communications director, was

talking as he followed.

“Your favorability ratings are still up, which is great. Your negatives are still, well, about the

same, which we’ll working on improving. We believe a few more picnics and barbeques with

the hard working people of this town should get us there. And your job performance is still

up. All good news for somebody who’s going to announce his reelection bid in a few months.

But it’s also why you have got to support the Norris Amendment.”

Jason slung his heavy briefcase on top of his desk, stood behind his desk, and gave his aides

his full attention for the first time. Carl Browning was a good communications director, Jason

thought, but a little too robotic to impress him. Dexter McGhee, the mayor’s legislative aide,

was more impressive, simply because he used to be a backup quarterback for the Jaguars, but

he, too, showed little range beyond his own concerns. Stephen Armitage was Jason’s closest

advisor, but even he wasn’t a friend. Not because Jason didn’t try to learn to enjoy Stephen’s

company, but because he was just a little too ruthless, a little too
what’s in it for me
for Jason.

And then there was DeeDee.

DeeDee Ramstead, his public affairs director. She was great at her job, and a beautiful

woman, but she, too, had never touched the kind of emotion in Jason that made him want her

to be anything more to him than his employee. She tried at every turn to make their

relationship more, she tried every chance she could, but Jason purposely kept her at arm’s

length.

“Good morning, Mr. Browning,” he said to his communications director, to see if that would

slow him down.

“Good morning, Mayor Rascone. I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but I’m just

trying to keep you informed of what we need to do because nothing is guaranteed anymore.”

“Nothing,” Stephen echoed.

“Does it look as if I’ll have a Republican opponent this time?”

“No, thank God,” Stephen said. “Our party is united and on board for your reelection.”

“What about the Democrats? Are they going to run Amherst?”

Stephen nodded. “We don’t know. All we know is that he’ll probably be black since the

blacks have been insisting it’s their time now. Which is great for us. Far be it from us to

complain if the Dems want to put up this inexperienced black as if---”

“What does his race have to do with it?” Dexter McGhee, the only black in the room, asked.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stephen said, shaking his head. “What I mean is that the

Democrats have decided to play to their base and keep it all united, like the Republicans, that’s

what I meant.”

“Good morning, Mr. McGhee,” Jason said.

“Good morning,” Dexter McGhee replied, his smile warming Jason. “Sorry about that. Just

don’t want any of Stephen’s nonsense.”

“What nonsense?” Stephen asked.

“DeeDee, good morning to you, too,” Jason said.

DeeDee smiled. “Good morning, Jace.”

“Carl’s right you know,” Stephen said, ready to pounce as usual. “You’ve got to support

the Norris Amendment, there’s no two ways about this.”

“And why is it that I
have
to support it?” Jason asked, opening his briefcase. “Because a

poll says so?”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Carl asked. “It’s popular, sir. It’s what the people want.

The Norris Amendment has problems, granted, but at least it’ll give some relief to the small

business community who can’t afford to pay those sky high insurance premiums for their

workers.”

Dexter, however, shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s too pro-business at the

expense of the workers.”

“What kind of Marxist nonsense is that?” Stephen chimed in.

“It’s not Marxist,” Dexter held his ground, “it’s a fact. The business owners will get relief,

but what kind of relief will the workers get?”

“They’ll get the shaft,” Jason said before he realized he was saying it, and his entire staff

looked at him. Ever since he left Liz in her bed sleeping like an angel, he’d been thinking

about odd things: like the inner city, and the poor, and youth center directors with silky hair

and flawless brown skin and huge golden eyes that sparkled.

“This is not the time to make any waves, sir,” Carl said. “Not at the start of your

campaign.”

“I’m just saying that Dex makes a fair point,” Jason pointed out. “I’ve studied that

amendment, too, and I have some serious concerns here.”

Carl frowned. “Since when?” he asked, dumbstruck. He’d been discussing the Norris

Amendment with his boss for over a month now, and not once did he voice any real concerns.

“I mean, with respect, sir, since when have you suddenly become so interested in the plight of

waitresses and janitors and all these other poor people who’ll never vote for you anyway, at

the expense of small business owners, who are, by the way, your strongest supporters?”

“Since yesterday,” Stephen said and everybody looked at him. “Since his little detour into

the ‘hood.”

Dexter, Carl, and DeeDee looked at Stephen, confused, until Carl understood. “You can’t

be serious,” he said. And then he looked at the mayor. “Look, sir, now I know you always

wanted to be a man of the people and all of that, but this is not the time. Stephen did a good

job of damage control yesterday, let’s not push our good fortune. We were really lucky that

he kept it out of the news.”

DeeDee frowned. “Kept what out of the news?” she asked.

“The fact that the bachelor mayor of our great city,” Carl explained, “had picked up some

who knows what kind of ‘hood-rat female, and took her home.”

DeeDee looked at Jason. “What?” she asked unbelievingly.

“But Stephen took care of it and that’s all well and good, but we can’t afford any more days

like that.”

“Jason,” DeeDee tried again, “what in the world is Carl talking about? What
‘hood rat

female?”

“She lived in the hood, but she was hardly a hood rat,” Stephen corrected, more than happy

to stoke DeeDee’s sudden concern. “She is, in fact, Hamilton Morgan’s very beautiful

daughter.”

Stephen looked at DeeDee for her reaction and he smiled at the way she silently fumed.

Everybody at city hall knew how much she was smitten with the mayor and was trying every

trick she could try to gain his approval. The fact that Stephen couldn’t stand her didn’t help,

either, and the fact that Jason always took her side over his only added fuel to his fire. “She’s

tall,” Stephen continued, relishing DeeDee’s distress, “slender, flawless dark brown skin, oh,

you should have seen that smooth skin. And just as ghetto as all get-out.”

“A ‘hood rat just like I said,” Carl said.

DeeDee looked at Jason. “But why would you have any dealings with some ghetto black?”