Eighteen Acres: A Novel (32 page)

As they’d made their way through Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, Colorado, and Nevada, the crowds continued to swell in size and intensity. And after some late-night number crunching from Ralph and some calls to Tara’s remaining political allies, they planned a surprise Northeast swing to make a play for New Jersey, New Hampshire, Maine, Connecticut, and New York. Ralph acknowledged that it was a long shot but thought it was worthwhile.

Two weeks on the campaign trail had sped by in a blur of bus trips, town halls, television interviews, radio shows, rallies, and debates. As Charlotte sipped her coffee and flipped through the front pages of the papers that the press office had assembled for her, she let herself
reflect back on the turmoil of the previous six months. She thought about Peter out in San Francisco. He checked in with the twins frequently and passed along astute advice. Brooke and Mark had flown in the night before to join them for the final week on the road. She smiled at the thought of the twins and Brooke and Mark sitting behind her at all of the remaining events. If anyone could keep the mood light in the final days of a presidential campaign, they could. And her parents were planning to join them for the final weekend.

She’d be surrounded by people who would love her no matter what happened on Election Day. Increasingly, it looked as if she’d have her job for four more years.

Am I really up for doing this again?
she thought to herself. She smiled. She knew the answer.

Melanie

You don’t look like someone about to win your fourth straight presidential campaign,” Michael said, surprising Melanie by pulling up a stool next to her at the hotel bar where Charlotte and Tara and their respective entourages were staying.

“What are you doing out here?” Melanie asked. She was happy to see Michael, but she figured she’d have the bar to herself while Charlotte and Tara were at the rally.

“Whoa, easy, you’re going to fall off that stool,” Michael said when Melanie nearly tipped over as she reached out to give him a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here, but seriously, what are you doing on the road? I thought you’d be back at the bureau trying to dig up some dirt on Charlotte or Tara in the final days,” Melanie said, slurring her words slightly.

“I wanted to see your dynamic little duo with my own eyes.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “What are you
really
working on?”

“Unless you have been under a rock—which, come to think of it, you look like you
have
been under a rock. What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she reassured him, taking the last sip of her martini.

“Well, the country is in full swoon mode over Charlotte and Tara. I
came out to write about Charlotte Kramer’s final week as a candidate. Ever,” he added.

“I’ll have you know that my day started with a very awkward conversation with Tara about wearing undergarments that offer a little more support and coverage,” Melanie said, while waving her hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“Her wardrobe choices are probably worth a couple of points with male voters, Mel,” he said.

Melanie put her head in her hands. “Two martinis over here, please!” Melanie shouted, her head still resting on the bar.

The bartender nodded at them. “I’ve got it,” he said.

“Thanks,” Michael said to him.

“When did you arrive?” Melanie asked.

“About an hour ago. Too late to get to the event, or I would have gone. I didn’t expect to find you here. Thought you’d be at the rally.”

“Why? Haven’t you read the papers?” she said.

“So, the shit Ralph is putting out is getting to you?” Michael asked. “That’s not like you.”

“What shit, specifically, are you referring to?” Melanie asked.

“Ralph’s floating rumors that you’re being eased out, that you’re burned out and losing your touch with Charlotte.”

“Ah, those rumors,” Melanie said as the bartender placed another martini in front of her.

“Listen, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look a little strung-out,” Michael said.

“I’ve been living on a goddamn bus with Tara, Ralph, and Charlotte. Can you blame me?” she said.

“No. But as your friend, I think you need to nip these stories in the bud. You’re about half a news cycle away from a feeding frenzy. There’s a lot of rumbling out there about how you can’t get along with Tara,” Michael warned her.

“You’re joking, right?” Melanie said. But she knew he wasn’t. Ralph and his toadies were pushing all sorts of nasty rumors to the blogs. They were dying to see Melanie fail and Ralph replace her as chief of staff as a reward for winning the election.

“It’s not even worth responding to,” Melanie said.

“Why not?” Michael asked.

“Because I’m done. I’ve been run out of the place by Ralph and Tara.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” Michael said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Perhaps, but even you can’t deny it. It’s over,” she said.

“So you’re not staying, assuming Charlotte wins in a week?”

“No way,” Melanie said.

“Well, I’ll toast to that,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “And no one will blame you. Sixteen years is a record. Believe me when I tell you that leaving will do wonders for your personal life,” he added.

Melanie snorted. “What personal life?”

“Weren’t you seeing that correspondent? Brian something?” he asked.

“Yes, but I screwed that up royally. Maybe I’ll sign up for eHarmony when this is over. The Secret Service doesn’t even let me have a Facebook page, but when I’m retired, I can join one of those online dating services. That sounds like fun,” she said, laughing into her glass.

Michael didn’t laugh. He shot the bartender a look that he hoped would convey that it was time to cut Melanie off.

“Listen, Melanie, why don’t you let me walk you to your room? You look exhausted,” he offered.

“I’m going to have one more.” She waved at the bartender. He ignored her.

“Come on, Mel. You’ll regret that in the morning,” Michael warned.

“I will add it to the list,” she said.

“Don’t be like this. The motorcade will be back here in ten minutes. You don’t want the junior staffers to see you.”

“Why the hell not? Shouldn’t they see what sixteen fucking years of loyalty gets you?” she said, a little too loudly.

“Come on. You’re the White House chief of staff, for Christ’s sake. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go have a cigarette, OK? Will you come have a cigarette with me?”

“I don’t smoke,” she said.

“Yes, you do. You and Charlotte order Marlboro Lights by the carton.”

Melanie giggled. “How do you know everything?” she asked as she slid off her bar stool.

Michael put the bar tab on his room and steered Melanie out to the front of the hotel. They sat on a bench, and he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“Stay here while I go get matches,” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

As she sat on the bench, the presidential motorcade pulled up. The SUV carrying Charlotte and Tara pulled into a covered area, and they exited without seeing Melanie, but the press van came to a stop directly in front of where she was sitting.

Brian was the first one out. “Meet you guys in the bar in ten minutes,” she heard him say to the rest of the press.

She watched him pull a tape out of his cameraman’s bag and write something on it. Then she saw him check his BlackBerry. Finally, he looked up and saw her. She smiled and waved.

He walked up to the bench and sat down. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Living the dream,” Melanie said.

“Looks like you’ve had a long night already,” he said, smelling the martinis on her breath. At least she hadn’t started smoking yet. He hated the smell of cigarettes.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“I thought about calling when I saw the papers this morning,” Brian said.

“What are you referring to?” Melanie asked.

“Come on. I know you saw it. Everyone saw it,” Brian said.

The
Washington Journal
had run a front-page story on Ralph’s rising prominence in Charlotte’s inner circle, particularly with Tara. The headline read “Mind Meld” and the photo they ran showed Ralph whispering in Tara’s ear just before she went onstage. The story made it clear that Ralph’s success was likely to bring about Melanie’s demise.

“I couldn’t be happier for Ralph. He’ll make a great chief of staff,” Melanie said.

Just then, Michael walked out and approached the bench. Brian stood up.

“Hey, man,” Brian said, reaching his hand out to shake Michael’s hand.

“How’s it going?” Michael asked.

“Good. Just back from the event,” Brian said.

“How was it?”

“Good crowd, the standard stump speech, no news.”

Michael smiled. “At least I didn’t miss anything.”

“Definitely not. Uh, OK, then, I’ll leave you guys alone,” Brian said, turning to leave.

“Actually, Brian, I need to file something for the Web site tonight. Would you mind walking Melanie up to her room? I think she’s a little wiped out.”

Melanie felt pathetic.

“Of course. Melanie, do you have your key?” Brian asked.

Now they were talking to her as if she was eight years old. She pulled out the envelope carrying her keys and held it in front of her face.

“You ready?” Brian asked.

“Sure,” she said, embarrassed that Michael had dumped her on Brian but incapable, in her current state, of doing much about it.

She stood and tried to stop the spinning. She must have swayed, because Brian’s arms were suddenly around her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

“Can we sit here for a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said.

They sat back down.

“You don’t have to stay here with me,” Melanie said. “You can go meet your friends at the bar. I’ll get up to my room just fine.”

“I’m not going to leave you out here,” he said.

“There’s not a lot of crime in … where are we, again? I can’t remember.”

He laughed. “I can’t remember most of the time myself.”

Melanie leaned back against the bench and looked up at the sky. “Have you noticed that there are more stars in the red states?” she said. “Blue states have all the culture, but red states have all the stars.”

He leaned back and looked up. “You might be right about that,” he said.

She loved sitting next to him. “I miss you,” she said without looking at him.

He didn’t say anything.

“I know I screwed up, and I know you think I’m saying this now because I’m drunk, but I really miss you. And I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked at her. “I know,” he said.

Melanie wasn’t sure if he meant that he knew she was sorry or that he knew she missed him.

“I understand why you were frustrated when we were together,” she said.

He sat there looking at the stars and then turned to face her. “Don’t worry about it, Melanie,” he said.

She didn’t know how else to say she was sorry, and she was too scared to come out and ask him for a second chance. Before she could say anything else, he stood up.

“Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”

He held out his hand, and she took it. They walked inside hand-in-hand and passed the bar area. A couple of the reporters looked up at them, but most were too busy swapping gossip and planning their postcampaign trips. Of course, if Charlotte won, they’d be positioned to get jobs covering the White House. Some of them would skip vacations to claim their spots in the White House briefing room.

Melanie didn’t even look over at the bar. She was focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without falling on her face. “Have you ever seen such a nice carpet?” she asked Brian without looking up.

Brian looked down and laughed. “It is pretty nice,” he agreed.

Melanie concentrated on walking normally.

When they arrived at her room, she handed him her key and leaned against the wall while he opened her door. Once inside, he sat her down on the bed and sat in a chair across from her.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Melanie said.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Do you want to brush your teeth and wash your face, or do you want to get into bed?”

“I’ll go wash up,” she said.

She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. When she came out, Brian was still sitting in the chair. He was reading his BlackBerry.

“You can go down to the bar. I’ll be fine.” Melanie said.

“Where are your pajamas?” Brian asked. Melanie pointed at her suitcase. He opened it and pulled out a white tank top and some white cotton pajama bottoms. “These?” he asked.

She nodded. He handed them to her and smiled.

“Put them on. I won’t look.”

She wished he would. She changed and slid into bed.

Brian had laid two Aleves on her nightstand with a large bottle of water. “Take these,” he urged.

She swallowed them and drank a third of the bottle of water.

“Get some rest, Melanie,” he said.

She didn’t want to fall asleep, because she knew that when she got up, he’d be gone, but she couldn’t fight it for long. When she got up to use the bathroom, she was alone. She looked at the clock. It was three forty-five. She contemplated a trip to the gym, but her head was pounding, so she climbed back into bed. She couldn’t fall asleep. She got up at around four-thirty and packed for the five
A.M.
bag call. Her news clips were dropped off at five-fifteen, and as her eyes glazed over the stories about how the election was now Charlotte’s to lose, she knew she was finished.

She wasn’t even angry at Ralph or Tara anymore. Ralph was succeeding in squeezing her out because he wanted it more than she did, and Tara’s only crime was her ambition.

At six
A.M.
, she went next door to Charlotte’s room for the daily briefing. She sat quietly in the corner while Ralph went over the overnight polls and the press secretary did a readout of the daily papers. She listened as the speechwriters went over the message for the day. The plan was for Charlotte to go after Fran’s record of voting against troops in the field, and Tara would take a swipe at her for voting for higher taxes. Melanie had lost the debate over whether to go after Fran in the final days. They were locked in a death match against their opponent, and it seemed to be working. When they finished prepping
Charlotte for the day’s events, Melanie lingered after the rest of the staff had filed out.