The iCongressman (25 page)

SPEAKER ALBRIGHT

“That’s because you don’t understand social media, sir,”
the intern pronounces with an irritating condescension. “You can’t make things
go viral, they just do.”

“Then how has Bennit managed to do it twice?”

“Luck?
I don’t know how or why, but
people love him and his story. But just because it’s happened twice doesn’t
mean it will this time.”

“Let’s hope not,” I say, meaning it.

Michael Bennit is the master of social media. He nearly beat
Winston Beaumont exclusively using it, falling only because of some last minute
allegations. He trounced his opponents the second time around in a landslide
that makes Secretariat’s 1973 win at the Belmont look like a photo finish. Then
there’s how he and his icandidates managed to pull out huge victories earlier
this month.

“Mister Speaker,” my secretary says from the door. “The
majority leader is here to see you.”

“Send him in. Thanks, we’ll continue this later,” I say to
the intern who looks like he’s barely hit puberty. He passes Harvey on the way
out who gives him
a
once-over as he leaves.

“
You pulling
your staff out of high
school now?”

“You’d think so. He’s an intern giving me a crash course on
social media. I’m trying to figure out how concerned I need to be about
Bennit’s latest online blitz garnering too much attention from the American
public.”

“Are you thinking of trying to beat him at his own game if
it comes to that?”

“No, I’m hoping it doesn’t get that far. We are keeping the
media preoccupied with election fallout and Americans are tired of hearing
about politics after enduring this last election cycle and have turned to
Christmas shopping.”

“So why the cram session?”
Harvey
asks, an amused look creeping across his face.

“I’m trying to formulate a plan just in case.
Unless you have a better idea on how to beat Michael Bennit.”

“I do, actually. With a bat while he sleeps.” He took that
literally, but part of me likes the idea.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. I’m hoping someone
does it for me,” I say with a laugh.

“Considering the current political climate in this country,
you may get your wish. I’m surprised you’re still here since we’re adjourned
for Thanksgiving,” the majority leader says, pulling up a chair and changing
the subject.
It’s
bad form to discuss in detail the
desire to see a political enemy lie on the ground in a bloody mess, no matter
how much you want it.

It’s Friday, and the last vote was held right after lunch.
As tradition dictates before any holiday, the members head for the airport
almost immediately after the last business is conducted. The three days before
Thanksgiving is a constituent work week back in their districts, but no real
work ever gets done.

“Just tying up some loose ends.
You?”

“We’re actually heading to Thanksgiving at my brother’s
place in Boston, so we figured we’d just stay in D.C. until Wednesday. But
enough of my travel plans. I have news.”

“
Whatcha
got?” I’m somewhat
relieved that I didn’t need to hear the gory details of Harvey
Stepanik’s
itinerary.

“The House Independent Caucus Bill just made it out of
committee.
Unanimous vote.”

How did it ever come to this? No party outside of the
Democrats and Republicans has held a majority in either house of Congress since
before Lincoln started the War of Northern Aggression. In fact, they have never
even held a significant minority until now. It is just lousy timing that it
happens on my watch.

Most third-party or independent candidates choose to caucus
with one of the two major parties in exchange for committee assignments or
influence. Not this lot. They are being stubborn about breaking ranks, causing
a major problem when it will come to selecting the next Speaker of the House.
Despite our best attempts, not one has been lured by the carrots we are
dangling in front of them. And with Michael Bennit leading the cause, they
aren’t going to respond to the stick part of the approach either.

“A unanimous vote is a good sign. It means Merrick and the
Dems
are playing ball,” I observe, trying not to hint at
the concerns I have about this.

“Yeah, well, it better work. Your job may rely on it.” I can
always trust Harvey to take my concerns for a spin on the dance floor. He
doesn’t want us to lose our majority in the House, but I’m sure he’s not
experiencing any anxiety over me losing my job.

“I understand the political ramifications, Harvey. We just
have to figure out how to keep this from becoming the next big thing to hit
Facebook. Bennit has no other cards to play. So on that note, on your way out,
have my secretary send the kid with the pimples back in. I need him to explain
to me again what the world’s fascination with Twitter is.”

MICHAEL

“Congressman?
Blake is here,”
Chelsea says from the entrance to my office.

“Show him in. You know, I would prefer if you’d stick around
for this.” She turns and eyes Blake who is waiting patiently in the outer
office.

“No, I’m good. It’s getting late and I need to get some
Christmas shopping done.”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me. I haven’t even thought about it,
let alone started it. Good luck with yours.”

“Thanks. I’ll send him in. Have a good night, Congressman.”

“Thanks.
You too, Chels.”

Chelsea walks out and tells Blake he can enter. Damn, is she
ever pissed off about
this.
I am reminded once again
that I need to have a long overdue heart to heart chat with my former prize
pupil.

“Good evening, Congressman,” Blake says, taking the seat I
offer him on the small sofa across from mine. I toyed with the idea of having
this conversation across a desk, but I have a hard time forcing myself to be
that formal.

“Evening.
Glad you could make it.”

“I watched you on
The
Daily Show
last night. Really nice job, although I really think you should
have taken Jon Stewart’s challenge of flipping his desk. The viral value of
that would have been astronomical.”

If you want to change public opinion,
Meet the Press
isn’t going to get it done.
The Daily Show
and
Colbert
Report
have mainstream appeal, and that’s what we need right now.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t tempting.”

“You working mainstream television programming
is
still taking some getting used to. It made sense during
the campaign, but I’m a little shocked you decided to continue appearing on
them.” Blake pauses for a moment before continuing. “You don’t think a social
media campaign will work for this, do you?”

“Not this time. Not by itself.”

“Why not?”

A viral social media campaign is not much different than any
other movement in history. The only difference is how it materializes and how
the message is communicated. For all grassroots movements, there is one
fundamental truth someone needs to understand—to work, they have to be
something people can rally behind.

“Americans don’t understand how this affects them. People
will talk about it, but they won’t demand the action it’s going to take to make
a difference.”

“So, the fact Twitter hash tag ‘silenced’ is constantly
trending is meaningless?”

“Meaningless is a strong word. People’s opinions matter, but
in this instance, it won’t be enough to change votes. We may have demonstrated
the power of social media, but we also have to understand its limitations.”

“Is that why I’m here?”

“Sort of.
I need some advice. You
did some unsavory things for Winston Beaumont, didn’t you?”

“Too many,” he answers meekly.

“If you were trying to intimidate someone into voting a
certain way, or taking a course of action, how would you do it?”

Blake thinks about it for a second before the realization of
what I’m talking about hits him like a tsunami. Blake may be a lot of things,
but dimwitted isn’t one of them. I can’t understand why Marilyn’s opinion of
her nephew is so low.

“You’re talking about the threats you’re getting?”

“Yup.
Tell me something. This rules
vote is pretty much a lock, yes?”

“Outside of you pulling off a small miracle to defeat it,
I’d say so.”

“So if a group is behind sending them, what is the endgame?”

“They are trying to push you into something willingly.”

“That’s the conclusion I came to, and thanks to your aunt, I
think I know what.”

“The third party.”

I give him a look of agreement without saying anything. He
gets the message,
then
looks over his shoulder to the
closed office door.

“Chelsea doesn’t trust me. Is that why she isn’t here?”

“Nobody trusts you, Blake. Not my staff or anybody else’s.
I’m not sure you’ll ever get over that stigma, but maybe for once that’s an
asset and not a liability.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely perplexed.

I take a moment to think about how I want to do this.
Offending Blake is not at the top of the list of things I give a crap about,
but this situation is critical and I could really use his help. I don’t want to
manipulate him into saying yes, but I also don’t want to give him an easy
reason to say no.

“How many Democrats do you know in the House?”

“Almost all of them.
Not that any
of them would give me the time of day.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I have a mission I’d like you
to consider taking.” I go on to tell him my plan. I decide to play it straight
and lay all my cards on the table. It’s a different approach than anyone else
in this city would use, and I pride myself on owning that approach here.

“I’m fighting a war on multiple fronts here, and I can’t do
it alone. You are my Manhattan Project, so to speak. You’re the best hope I
have for victory.”

“What if I say no?”

“Then say it. You have that right.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever find work in this town again if I do
this for you.”

“Not going to lie to you, Blake, that’s a real possibility.”

He closes his eyes, and then opens them, focusing on an
imaginary spot in the space in front of him. He is lost in his thoughts, and
I’m not about to interrupt his thousand-yard stare. By the time he looks up at
me, I already have figured out what he’s about to ask.

“Look, if you’re fishing for a job offer, you’re not going
to get one out of me. I’m only just beginning to trust you, and the opinions of
the people I rely on the most aren’t even that far along. And trust me when I
say that’ll be an uphill climb.”

“How uphill?

“Think the cliffs at Pointe du Hoc between Utah and Omaha
Beaches in Normandy.” He misses the reference but gets the gist. He goes back
to weighing his options, playing with the Second Armored pin he’s been wearing
on his lapel since the first election in the process.

Despite our social media effort, I think the success of
defeating this bill relies on Blake’s decision. And while Chelsea is … less
than thrilled … in trusting him to pull it off, I know he’s the only one who
can. It’s a high stakes gamble considering how many times he’s lied and
deceived us. Something in my gut is screaming to follow my intuitions and trust
him, and after surviving multiple tours in Iraq and Afghanistan with the
Special Forces, I learned to trust that gut a whole lot.

“Do you think these threats against you and the
staff are
real?” he asks with a look of genuine concern on
his face.

“I don’t know, Blake, but God, I hope not. Either way, I
will not allow myself to be coerced into anything.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You realize what I’m saying, right? There are no promises
of anything for doing this?”

“I understand, but you need to know something first. Speaker
Albright offered me a position on his staff to help this get passed.” That
catches me a little off guard, and my response is reflexive.

“Really?
Did you accept it?”

“No. I don’t want to work for him, but I was keeping the
option open.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“Not until I let it slip with the rest of the information
you want me to leak.”

“You scare me a little, Blake,” I say with a smile, but
meaning it.

“I’ll let you know how I make out,” he says, reaching out to
shake my hand. As we walk to the door, I have to ask.

“Blake, why did you decide to help?”

He looks at me and smiles. “It’s what my father would have
wanted me to do.”

CHELSEA

Union Station is an iconic landmark in D.C. More than just
a transportation hub, it also offers a variety of stores I can peruse for gifts
while being afforded easy access to Red Line of the city’s subway system. I’m
window shopping more than actually planning on buying a gift. Dad is almost
impossible to find Christmas presents for.

“Hello, Miss Stanton,” the deep bass voice of Congressman
Parker says after seeing me in front of the aptly named Street Level Shops.

“Good evening, Congressman. I didn’t realize you shopped
here too.”

“Normally, I don’t, but the missus is out of town and there
is a great little cigar shop right over there,” he beams without a hint of
guilt. “And you?”

“Trying to find ideas for my father.”

“I know there is a nice little cigar shop right over there,”
he says with a laugh. It’s probably the only store he knows of in this small
shopping area.

“It may come to that,” I lament, reciprocating the smile.
“Before I forget to ask, how’s your niece making out with her unit? I haven’t
heard any updates.”

He smiles, probably shocked I remembered. Most elected
officials can’t be bothered to remember what they ate for breakfast, and staff
members only generally care about what their principals do. Of course, no one
will ever accuse us of being like most elected officials.

“They finally got the issue sorted out and she is doing much
better. She’s going to make a
helluva
crew chief.”

“I have little doubt about that. Thank her for her service
on my behalf,” I say as I start to leave.

“I will. Before you run off, I was wondering if there is
something else you could help me with, since I’ve run into you here.”

Ugh. The deal-making here never ends, and I am getting tired
of it. I don’t feel much obligation to help, even after he saved the
congressman’s political career. He’s a big part of the reason I have to buy
jugs of Advil at the local Sam’s Club.

“I will do what I can.”

“Rumors are like Louisiana mosquitoes on Capitol Hill—they
are everywhere, annoying, and if you spend too much time around them, will suck
the lifeblood right out of you.”

No argument from me on that terrifying analogy. I hear the
bayou is beautiful in its own way, but I don’t ever plan to find out for
myself. The closest I ever plan on getting there is through watching old
episodes of
Duck Dynasty
.

“Did you hear Blake Peoni accepted a deal to work with on
Speaker Albright’s staff?”

The blood drains out of my face. I have a pale complexion to
begin with, but now I’m sure I look like a bed sheet.

“No, I guess you haven’t.”

“I, uh … do you …” C’mon, Chels, get it together. “How solid
is your information, sir?” I ask, finally regaining at least some composure.

“Very,” he states confidently. “I’m not trying to play
gotcha with you, Miss Stanton. I only ask because he worked for Winston
Beaumont, and he and I … well, let’s just say we live on very separate planets
ideologically. Fact is
,
I don’t trust Blake very much.
I have no idea why the Speaker does, but I consider it my job to protect my
party if he isn’t going to. I know you don’t care much about that, but I also
know he was working with you guys.”

I can barely speak. I want to respond. I need to respond,
but I can only focus on tamping down the surge of emotion I’m feeling. He lied
to me again. He pretended to care about me and even kissed me. How could I be
so stupid?

“I wish I could tell you more, Congressman, but I honestly
don’t know anything,” I mutter as the tears form in my eyes. I’m losing the
battle with myself, and Congressman Parker sees it too.

“I can see this blindsided you as well. I’m sorry if I upset
you. Have a nice evening, Miss Stanton. Good luck with your Christmas
shopping,” he says with the same concerned look my father gives me before
walking off.

I find myself standing in the middle of this national treasure,
surrounded by people, yet utterly alone.
Alone.
That
word has a lot of meaning for me these days.
So many lies and
so much deceit.
I feel like a shipwreck survivor, clinging to a board
and adrift on a wide open sea by myself. Even the people closest to me have
seemed to abandon me.

I walk back to the safe confines of my office through the
frosty early December air. Although it really isn’t safe anymore either, is it?
The congressman seems to be keeping as many secrets from me as Blake has. Has
he lost his trust in me, too? Would he bother to tell me even if he hasn’t?

Trusting people has never been my strong suit. Maybe that’s
the one thing I always had in common with my favorite teacher—we both take a
while to warm to people. So why is he embracing Blake now instead of me?
Blake, the lying, coward of a man who doesn’t have a shred of
integrity in his body.
Why would Mister Bennit, a man who epitomizes the
very word, betray his own principles so egregiously? Has Washington changed him
that much?

Forget it. I can’t take this place anymore. I wipe the tears
from my eyes and grab my coat and purse. I have been betrayed for the last
time.
By Blake, by the congressman, by anyone here.
When I get emotional, I get irrational, and right now, I don’t give a crap. I
look around my office for what will probably be the last time. They can mail me
my stuff for all I care, because I’m going home to Millfield and never coming
back.