The iCandidate (28 page)

KYLIE

I am trying not to be rude, but this is not the time anyone should expect my undivided attention. Since I arrived at the Buzz, Chelsea, Brian, Peyton
, and the crew have been parading countless student volunteers from other districts over to meet me. Some want to be journalists after graduating from college. Others fancy themselves as future politicians or staffers.

They are all good kids, and I answer their barrage of questions as earnestly as I can. Under any other circumstances, I would be flattered by the attention, but my focus keeps getting drawn to the TV. It’s election night
, and we are approaching the finish line and finding out how this adventure ends.

I peak again at the huge screen, and with
74 percent in, Michael has actually taken a slight lead in the race. No longer able to divide my attention, I politely excuse myself and settle on a spot closer to the screen.

There are about a dozen people watching with
zombie-like interest, and they pay me no notice as I join them. The sound coming from the speakers is muffled under the cackle of the crowd in the room, so I strain to hear what is being said on screen.

“
I cannot tell you how shocked I am,” a female pundit offers to her two peers. “Here’s a guy who ran his entire campaign on social media using high school students for staff. With nothing more than a shoestring budget, he has positioned himself to beat a well-respected incumbent.”

Well-respected my ass. The pundits know it too, but this makes for better ratings.

“Regardless of what happens, do you think that this campaign will change modern politics?” the moderator of the group asks.

“
Absolutely. Everyone in America now figures that if this guy can do it, they can do it! You heard it here first. Running for elected office will never be the same.”

Well, that may be true now,
but if Michael holds me to writing my final article about him? How can I get out of doing that? Do promises have loopholes? Great, now I sound like a politician.

I sense, more than see, Chelsea come up beside me.
“Have they talked about any other race tonight?”

“
Barely,” I mumble. “This is the greatest show on Earth so far as the media is concerned. Control of Congress could be seized by a political party made up of disgruntled circus chimps and they would still be focusing on this race.”

Chelsea laughs, but I’m pretty serious about that comment. The
media attention over the past two months is on a scale I could never have imagined.

“
The once untouchable Winston Beaumont has had the fight of his life in this re-election campaign. Now it looks more and more like Michael Bennit may pull off the upset,” says a reporter outside our lively little coffee house. “The big question in Connecticut tonight, and especially in the small business behind me, is just how much of an effect the scandal that rocked the Bennit campaign just a few days ago will have on how people vote.”

“People have gone to the polls in record numbers, and many of them told us they dismissed the allegations and cast their vote for Michael Bennit,” the anchor says after his on location reporter finishes. “But will it be enough to unseat the popular incumbent? What's the word from the Beaumont camp, Bob?”

Bob is inside a ballroom, a dais with American flag backdrop set up along a wall. The room is filled with Beaumont posters, balloons, and a hundred people watching the election results on the screen.

“The feeling here has been one of nervousness over the past half hour. As the latest results came in, the crowd quieted considerably as their slim lead turned into a slim deficit. Remember, Winston Beaumont was embroiled in a scandal of his own last spring involving the Lexington Financial Group. Now, people around here are wondering whether political newcomer Michael Bennit is poised to make history.”

“Thanks for your report, Bob. We are now getting ready to call some races that have been decided in other parts of the country.”

“We getting close?” Michael whispers into my ear.

“Very.”

* * *

Another whole hour lurches by before p
eople begin paying rapt attention to the results. As a group, the people assembled here share a sense of the final verdict being close at hand. Peyton, Brian, Amanda, Vince, Emilee, and Amanda all move up through the mass of humanity to join us up front, Xavier and Vanessa following a few moments later. Vince begins cracking jokes about the candidates in other districts, lightening the mood a bit, but only a bit. The tension in the room is thick like a morning fog.

“Ladies and gentlemen, w
e are getting ready to call the race in the Connecticut Sixth District.”

“
Everybody quiet!” Chelsea shrieks to silence the audience behind us. Peyton, Vanessa and Brian also turn to quiet everyone down. The cacophony of nervous sound quickly turns to an eerie silence. The pundits on the television, whose voices only moments ago could barely be heard, now boom into the room.

“
Here we go. Moment of truth,” Amanda says anxiously.

“What
has been perhaps the most intently watched congressional race in history has lived up to its billing as the contest between Independent Michael Bennit and Democrat Winston Beaumont has gone right down to the wire. We should be getting the final results any second.”

Peyton covers her mouth with her hands.

Vince bounces his leg nervously.

Emilee is literally covering her eyes with her hands.

“We’re sorry for the delay, folks, but we are just awaiting some final confirmations because we want to get this right.”

Vanessa hides behind Brian's shoulder.

Chelsea inhales and holds her breath.

My hands are cupped in front of my mouth, and I notice I am biting down on my index finger with my teeth.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Brian mumbles to nobody in particular.

“You’re killing us here!” Vince exclaims.

For a moment, just a moment, it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

MICHAEL

“
In one of the most captivating elections I have ever had the privilege of reporting, the contest between Winston Beaumont and the iCandidate Michael Bennit literally has come down to the last votes counted,” the anchor says, her voice dripping with excitement.

My students are bundles of nervous energy. Even the steadfast Kylie Roberts is caught up in the moment. As the anchor prattles on,
all motion in the room ceases. Deep breaths are held almost universally. Months of work, and it all comes down to the next words out of her mouth. Could I really be a U.S. Congressman?

“
With one hundred percent of the precincts reporting, we can now announce that the campaign of Michael Bennit, the iCandidate has fallen short, and Democratic incumbent Winston Beaumont has successfully retained his seat in the House.”

A graphic depicting Winston
Beaumont flashes on the screen with a large check mark next to it. A collective gasp, followed by an audible groan of disappointment, shakes the room.

Vince drops his head.

Vanessa covers her face with her hands to hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

Nothing stops the t
ears from streaming down Chelsea and Peyton's cheeks.

Brian puts an arm around Peyton and hugs her
, stunned by what he just heard.

Kylie turns to me, her eyes
moistened from her own tears. “I’m sorry,” she mouths to me. I reach out and pull her into my arms, giving her a tight hug as I bury my face in her hair. We hold it for a long time, before I finally break the comfort of her embrace. She nods over to the students who are consoling each other.

Peyton reaches out and hugs me, followed by Vince, of all people. One-by-one they each join in a group hug as cameras flash from the crowd. There is little doubt one of those pictures
will end up on the front page of every newspaper in the country. I’m not sure if my rule against physical contact would apply to an emotional moment like this, but since I am suspended anyway, I don’t really give a damn.

When we finally release, it is Brian who summons the courage to speak first. “So much for our Cinderella story.”

“I guess the glass slipper didn’t fit after all,” Emilee chimes in through her tears.

I can’t help but give them a little smile. “
You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.”

“
What go nowhere idiot said that BS?” Vince says, upset and angry. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“
Walt Disney.”

They all crack little smiles which fade quickly.
The crowd in the shop starts moving in closer and begins to shake hands with all if us. I haven’t been around campaigns before, but I can’t imagine any would be more supportive than this one.

I get everyone’s attention and say a few words of thanks to all those that worked so hard for us. I keep it brief, but I’m sure I could have spoken for an hour and no one would have budged. When I finished, Chelsea comes up to me.

“I was just thinking, what about the absentee ballots?”

Kylie
puts her hand gently on my shoulder. “Break even at best, Chels.”

“No use in putting this off any longer.
I guess I have a call to make.”

To my surprise, Kylie
gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.

“
Don't let the bastard get the best of you.”

BLAKE

The herd gathered around the TV like it’s a
midwestern watering hole has grown quiet. From the far side of the war room, I can almost make out the voice of the anchor on CNN reading the results of races throughout the country. Winston Beaumont is not among them, deciding to watch from the comfortable solitude of his small office like the coward he is.

Why are all these people even here? Beaumont secured a ballroom in Danbury to host his victory celebration. I imagine he is hiding
here in case he loses, but I have no idea why so many others aren’t at least enjoying the open bar. If they hung around the campaign office because I was coming, it wasn’t so they could interact with me.

I sit alone in the plastic chair without a soul
within fifty feet of me, ostracized and shunned by the army I once helped command. This is their moment, not mine. I gave up that right the moment I crossed the great and powerful Beaumont.

I don’t need to see the television to know what happened. The spontaneous eruption of joy by all the people in the war room speaks volumes. I changed the course of the election and was too late in stopping it. As a result, Winston won.

The congressman emerges from his office with a beaming Roger and shakes his hand. “You need to do better in the Senate race Roger. I’ll be counting on you.”

“
We will, sir.”

Beaumont gives a wave to the enthusiastic serfs
content to suspend reason and common sense and support this arrogant blowhard.

Deena walks up to him and taps him on the shoulder
, and whispers something in his ear that mercifully cuts short his bloviating.

“Bennit is making his concession call,
” he announces proudly. ”So let me take this and I’ll meet you over at the ballroom to get the party started!” The zombies erupt with pleasure.

“Why don’t you join us, Blake
?” he says, turning to me before walking into the office. Madison, Roger and Marcus accompany us in the small room as Deena punches the speaker button on the desk phone.

“
This is Winston Beaumont.”

“Good evening,
congressman. This is Michael Bennit. I wanted to congratulate you and your staff on your victory.”

“
Why thank you, Michael. You gave me a bit of a scare, but as I told you after the debate, there was no way I was going to lose.”

A long
silence on the other end of the line is punctuated by the sounds of the celebration outside in the war room.

“But y
ou did lose, congressman.”

“I’m a bit confused
, Michael,” Winston says in the most condescending voice he can muster. “This is a concession call. Surely even a novice like you watches the news. I won.”

“
You won the election, yes, but for a veteran politician, you’re unbelievably short-sighted.”

“
Oh, yeah? How so?”

“
Congressman, you spent over twenty-five million dollars running a negative campaign against me, and all you have to show for the cost is the narrowest margin of victory in a congressional race in history.”

It amazes me. After everything Winston did to him, he still addresses him by his title, offering a measure of respect the office, if not the officeholder, deserves. If there was any lingering doubt in my mind about Michael Bennit’s character, that squashed it.
I am not feeling so conciliatory.

“
I still won. That’s the only thing of consequence,” Winston concludes.

“You won this election, but what about the next one?
You won't be up against a novice next time, nor will you benefit from a huge war chest to buy your way out of defeat.”

“
It won't matter!”

“Your staff knows differently, a
nd if they haven’t brought it up yet, they’re lying to you,” Michael says in the same measured tone that made him a hit at the debate.

“I can always raise more money.”

“Sure you can, but you’re going to have a much harder time changing people’s opinions with it. You won with the lies you spread this time, but I wouldn’t count on history repeating itself. The cold, hard reality is simple. Beating me has cost you your political future, you just don't know it yet.”

“Look here
Bennit—”

“
Congratulations, congressman. Enjoy your last two years in politics.”

The call
disconnects, but Beaumont continues to stare at phone like he is waiting for a stripper to pop out of the damn thing. Deena and Madison are equally dumfounded, if not disgusted by what they perceive as Michael’s lack of respect. The only other person in the room that gets it is Roger. He is staring at me, so I give him a look of amusement. Everything Michael Bennit said is absolutely true. I may be finished in politics, but so is the man I once worshipped.

Winston
seizes the phone and hurls it against the wall, shattering it. “Everyone out. Except you, Blake, you stay right here.” Madison and Deena hurry out, and Roger closes the door behind them after they leave.

Winston
goes into his desk and pours himself a tumbler of scotch. He replaces the bottle in the drawer without offering any and takes a long sip of the amber liquid. He swirls the whiskey in the glass, watching it intently before looking up at me.

“I expected so much more from you, Blake,” he says, keenly watching my bod
y language. I don’t flinch. The bastard doesn’t deserve the satisfaction. “I hope you know, you were one of the rare ones. A generous mix of ambition, loyalty and political know-how, but you threw it all away. I find myself wanting to know why, but in the end I don’t really care. And do you know why, Blake?” he asks, moving around the desk and sitting on the edge in front of me. With the same hand holding his glass, he jabs a finger a mere inch from my face. “Because you don’t matter. What you did no longer matters.”

“Do you even believe that yourself,
Winston?” I ask. “Because what’s left of your phone may have a different opinion.”

Winston lets out a little laugh and removes his finger from my face.
I’m not sure if his amusement is fueled by my comment or use of his first name.

“You think Bennit was right?”

“I think people have seen you for what you are. You claim to be a champion of the people, but we all know you’re more concerned with power and lining your own pockets. The people you surround yourself with are lemmings. I know, because I was one. I have seen what you are capable of, what you’ve done, and once everyone else has, Bennit will be right. You’ll be finished in politics.”

“You think you know where all the skeletons are buried?” Roger asks from behind me, anger in his voice. “You don’t know anything, and if you did, it’s not like people would listen to you. A disgraced staffer bent on revenge against his
former
employer won’t play well in the respected media. I’ve already seen to that.”

I knew it was coming, but my face
still registers shock at the notion that I was no longer in the employment of Winston Beaumont, representative from the Connecticut Sixth District.

“You can’t hurt me again, son,”
Beaumont concludes. “Not on Lexington, or Bennit, or anything else for that matter. You are finished in politics forever, Blake, so you’d best find another line of work. As of this instant, you’re officially no longer a member of my staff. You’re dismissed.”

I glare at him for a moment and
start to leave, but stop as I reach the door. I need to say something to save face. Some pearl of wisdom, or a warning that I, too, am not one to be trifled with. When I turn back I am cut off by Roger. Once again, he’s a step ahead of me.

“
Don’t bother, Blake. You can lash out all you want to some drunks in whatever crappy bar you find yourself drowning your sorrows at. But don’t waste our time with the empty threats you’re about to spew. You made your decision, now live with it.”

The revelry
of Beaumont’s victory devolves into hushed whispers and snickering as I do the walk of shame through the war room towards the front door. Marcus almost looks sad to see me go, but it may be the comparison against the backdrop of Madison and Deena who are delirious with joy.

Roger may not know it now, but the final piece of sage advice he offered saved me from myself. I almost tipped my hand
about what I am thinking about doing. After all, I hold a trump card I have been saving for a day just like this one, and I now have to wonder if it is time to play it. You can discredit me as a witness, but it’s much harder to dismiss your own paper trail.

I leave the office behind and walk through the cold November night to my car. Big decisions lie ahead of me, and
once again, I am unsure which path to take.