The auditorium in Towson University crackled with an unshakeable sense of electricity as the two men stepped up to their respective podiums. The chatter of the audience quickly died down to a whisper as the crowd waited in anticipation. The auditorium lights dimmed and the stage lights came up, revealing a blue back screen and a series of American flags.
The mood two floors above in a classroom that had been converted into a makeshift greenroom was just as tense as the seconds to air were counted off. Will took a deep breath, leaned forward in his padded chair, and adjusted his tie and then his collar. He checked his watch, checked his BlackBerry, and, finally, to stop fidgeting, he clasped his hands in front of him. He watched as the moderator began the introductions for that evening’s debate.
After agreeing on the format of the debate, the campaign staff had been prepping Congressman Dupré for the past two and half weeks. They had tried to throw him every curve ball imaginable, coming up with any possible question that could come from the audience. But Dupré had not minded the constant practice and endless drilling. He had given it his all. He knew what was at stake.
Will clinched his fists as Parker was called on first to answer the moderator’s question. He watched as Parker adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
“First, I would like to say thank you,” Parker began, “to Congressman Dupré for agreeing to tonight’s debate. It is an honor to spar with you, and I hope that tonight will prove to be a meaningful exchange. Secondly, I would like to thank Towson University for sponsoring this event…”
Will wondered how many people Parker planned to thank before actually answering the question.
“Just get to the question already!” someone shouted in the greenroom.
Will couldn’t agree more.
Everyone knew that Dupré had to do well tonight. For the first time in a long time, he was losing ground in the polls to an opponent. Somehow, Parker had pulled ahead. The voters were responding to Parker, and, subsequently, tonight’s debate had given a sense of urgency to Dupré. He knew that he had to use this platform to sell himself to his constituents, remind them of all he had done as their congressman, and why he should be reelected. He’d also have to point out Parker’s faults.
Will now thought back to a conversation he had with Dupré an hour earlier.
“I’ve had enough of this crap,” Dupré muttered as he and Will rode alone in the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car on the way to the auditorium. Dupré had just finished reading the latest glowing editorial about Parker in one of the local papers and tossed the broadsheet aside in disgust. “I’ve got to take him down, Will. No more playing around.”
Will slowly nodded his head in agreement.
“When I leave Congress, I want to leave on my terms,” Dupré said angrily, pointing at his chest. His green eyes seemed almost glacial. “I want to leave when I say I’ve had enough. Not because I’ve been kicked out by the Nutty Professor!”
Will didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t have the heart to tell Dupré that a decision like that wasn’t always left up to the candidate. Sometimes in life people get kicked out of the party before they realize the party is over.
Dupré groaned as he ran his hands over his face. “Things don’t look too good, Will,” Dupré admitted, his voice faltering as he slouched back against the seat. “I know they don’t. But I can pull it together. I know I can. I’ve gone through worse challenges in my life and I have always, always pulled it out in the end. It just means buckling down, working harder. This election just…” He sighed. “It just isn’t going to be a coast to victory.” He turned to look at Will, fixing him with a penetrating gaze. “Can I count on you, son? If the terrain gets rougher, you’ll stick around, won’t you?”
Will frowned. He sat in disbelief for several seconds. “Of course I will, Vincent,” he answered adamantly. “Why would you ask me a question like that?”
Dupré sighed again. “Politics can be a tricky game, Will,” he said softly, returning his gaze to the window. “You think you know who your friends are. You think you know loyalty, but every now and then…every now and then people surprise you.” He quickly shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to insult you, son. I just wanted to make sure…that…that I can count on you.”
Will nodded his head. “I can promise you that there won’t be any surprises from me, Vincent. I swear.”
* * *
Will now watched Dupré on the television screen. The older man looked confident and calm, not giving any hint of the desperation that lurked inside him. Dupré cleared his throat and began to speak. Will couldn’t help critiquing his boss.
He should have paused there, Will thought as Dupré gave his rapid-fire answer. He looks angry now, not authoritative.
Will frowned. Take a deep breath, Vincent. Take a deep breath and slow down.
Suddenly, Will found himself needing to take a deep breath.
“Anyone want any water? I’m getting some water,” he said, suddenly leaping out of his chair and heading toward the green room door. He drew only a few curious gazes from the rest of the staff before they returned their attention to the television screen.
Will sighed as he walked down the corridor toward one of the floor’s convenience machines. He reached into his pocket and managed to find a few quarters and dimes. He shook the coins listlessly, wondering if Dupré would indeed make a comeback tonight.
There’s no reason for him not to, Will thought. There’s no reason why he can’t.
But as Will told himself this, he felt more and more as if he were trying to ward off doubt. He had always imagined Dupré would end up like the age-old Senator Robert Byrd, only leaving office when he was carried out. But something had gone wrong this year for Dupré. Something was different, and success did not seem as certain as it had been five election cycles ago. It did not seem certain at all.
Will rounded the corner and abruptly stopped in his tracks. His stomach clinched.
Keisha loudly banged her open palm against the glass face of the snack machine. He watched as she pressed several plastic buttons before throwing back her head, sending a lock of hair flying from her carefully constructed chignon.
Will knew the Parker campaign had one of the other classrooms on this floor and should have expected to run into her at some point. Just looking at her still tied him in knots.
Dupré wasn’t the only one who had been knocked off his game this election season. Something had changed this year for Will, too, and that something was named Keisha Reynolds.
“Come on,” she exclaimed. She took off her snug suit jacket and tossed it over the top of the vending machine, then knelt on the floor and shoved her hand through the flip door. He watched as she closed her eyes and bit on her lower lip in concentration, as she felt her way inside.
Kissing her had been one of the biggest mistakes Will had ever made and he had wanted to kick himself the minute after he had done it. The kiss had been impulsive, an itch he had yearned to scratch for so long. But kissing her had only made things worse for him. Now the yearning for her was stronger than before, almost unbearable.
He wasn’t in love with Keisha. He couldn’t be. He barely knew her, and yet something about her still tugged at him. Lust, he thought cynically. Old-fashioned lust, and you can’t give in to it.
“Need some change?” he blurted ineptly.
Her eyes opened and narrowed when her gaze settled on him. She quickly pulled her arm from the flip door and slowly rose to her feet. She didn’t look embarrassed that he had caught her trying to pilfer from the vending machine. Instead, she gave him a look that could have frozen boiling water.
“No thanks,” she said icily, wiping the dust off the front of her skirt and then retrieving her jacket. “It’s a candy bar I didn’t need anyway.” She tossed her suit jacket over her arm and began to walk toward him.
His gaze was instinctively drawn to her full mouth.
God help me, he thought as she came near. He wanted to kiss her again.
“Keisha,” he said softly before reaching out to touch her. His fingers tingled in anticipation.
He watched with dismay as she stepped out of his reach and continued her long strides down the corridor.
“Keisha,” he called after her again, but she ignored him.