'Was that before or after Matt died?'
'It was the night he left. The next day, we went to Santa Barbara and he died. How'd you know that?'
'Because of the way you said it.'
'It was like an omen,' he said. 'He was in our life. We put him out and the next morning he was gone.'
'It will get better, Ryan. All things change and become something else. Pain often forces us to grow.'
She reached out and took his hand.
'I'll see you in the morning.' He stood as she got to her feet. And then he kissed her. It was a quick kiss and not quite on the mouth.
'Don't leave without saying good-bye,' she said as she turned out the lights and started up the stairs. He walked back to the pool house and stood there in silence. Something was different. It took a moment before he could identify what it was. It was a sense of calm, the first peace he'd felt in months. He turned off the light and stretched out on the bed. He thought about the shadow. He would fight it. He felt some of his confidence return. Like i n c ollege when it was third and long and they called his number. Back then, he knew if the ball came near him, he would catch it. For the first time since Matt died, he looked forward to what tomorrow would bring.
Chapter 13
The door opened and Ryan walked into a flurry of activity. Twenty people were milling on the small concrete floor, which had few offices, little furniture, and no carpet. A volunteer was pulling campaign fliers of Haze Richards's last gubernatorial election out of a box. The Haze Richards Presidential Campaign Headquarters in Rhode Island was a study in organized confusion. Ven and Van were on phones trying to get airline schedules to Iowa.
'I need forty seats, minimum. . to Des Moines,' Ven said. 'How 'bout Iowa City or Cedar Rapids?' He listened for a moment, then said, 'Okay, book it,' and slammed the phone. 'Hicks,' he said, glancing up at Ryan.
'I'm Ryan Bolt. . looking for Malcolm Rasher. He's expecting me.'
'Mal,' Ven yelled at the top of his voice.
A door opened twenty feet away and Malcolm Rasher looked out He was handsome, a tall, black yuppie, with a Polo wardrobe and rimless glasses. 'What?' Malcolm yelled back.
'There he is,' Ken Venable said Ryan introduced himself to Malcolm Rasher and they shook hands.
'You gonna make the documentary?' Malcolm asked. 'Tell you the truth, Mr. Rasher, I don't know what I'm doing here.'
'We're pulling the troops together right now. This is a scoot an' shoot operation. You got a crew, equipment, anything?'
'Before we pay for all that, don't you think I oughta know what I'm trying to say?'
'Probably right. Come on.' He led Ryan into a conference room with a scarred wooden table. There were half a dozen people sitting around talking.
'Sit down and buckle your seat belt, Ryan.'
In a few minutes, the other members of the team had arrived and Malcolm closed the door. There were ten including Ryan.
'Okay, everybody shut up and turn on your tape recorders,' Malcolm started. 'All of this is only gonna get said once. I'm available for questions, but try and steer clear of bullshit. We're gonna sink if we don't get the Big Mo immediately.'
Nine small tape recorders came out and got turned on. Ryan wished he'd brought one.
'Okay, let's start with introductions. We're going to have a name and job test tonight at six. Everybody has to know everybody else, what they do and their phone numbers. If any of you thinks this is stupid, you haven't worked a campaign where people don't know each other. I've made out my fact sheet with my job definition and phone numbers-it's on the long table outside. Let's go around the room. . To my right is our campaign chairman, Albert James Teagarden, A. J.'
A. J. waved. 'I'm going to be working on strategy, message, and polling with Ken Venable and Guy Vandergot. Anybody has any ideas, I want to hear them. I'll have more to say in a minute. My fact sheet is on the table.'
Then a pretty woman sitting next to Teagarden stood. Her ash-brown hair was silky and her figure showed the hours she'd spent in the gym.
'I'm Susan Winter, the body woman.'
Ryan had never heard the term before and wondered what it meant.
Malcolm caught his look of surprise. 'A body woman or man, for those who don't know, is someone who is with the candidate constantly. She will handle hotel rooms, extra phones in the suite, making sure the hotel refrigerator has the right stuff. She's also in charge of minute-to-minute scheduling. If the governor needs to be out of a press conference and on a six o'clock plane, she's the one who tugs his sleeve.'
Ryan was scribbling it all down on a yellow pad. 'Vidal,' Malcolm said.
Vidal Brown stood up. He was striking looking. Half-French and half-Paiute Indian, he'd been educated at Colgate. Ryan recognized him; he'd run press conferences for other Democratic campaigns.
Brown said, 'I'm press secretary. I'm a twenty-four-hour commando-type Injun. No time is the wrong time. I love suggestions. Fact sheet, same table.'
Next to him was a blonde with a bunch of rubber bands around her wrists, under which she had stuffed phone messages.
'Carol Wakano, and yes boys, I've heard all the Wacko Wakano jokes. I'm campaign finance. You hear of anybody with money for Haze Richards, I want the name. By the way, all mailed campaign pledges over five hundred need to be cataloged for the election review process. Anything less is exempted from that restriction.'
'Rick and Cindy Rouchard,' Rick said as he and his wife stood. They were Mr. and Mrs. Middle America. 'We're Iowa Advance. We're going to be setting up the funders and booking the local TV in Iowa. I don't need to tell you that the Register-Guard Convention Center debate Tuesday is going to be critical to our news coverage, so I hope the candidate is ready for it.'
'When we get to Iowa, Haze isn't going to stay in the Savoy Hotel with the rest of the candidates,' Rasher said.
'He's going to be at a farm someplace.' He turned to the Rouchards. 'Find an Iowa farmer who's about to go broke. Some guy with a sad story. Haze is going to sleep there.'
'Great idea,' Rick said.
Then it was Ryan's turn. 'I'm here to make a documentary. I don't have a fact sheet but I'll get one on the table immediately.' He sat down, not knowing what else to say.
'I want you, with a crew, filming the news conference in Providence when Haze announces,' Malcolm said. 'I'm gonna get the local blow-dries and live-at-fives from here and Providence.' Ryan knew he was talking about local TV field reporters. 'Get blanket footage on the press conference. What're you going to call this documentary?'
'I don't know. . I hadn't thought'
'We need a flashy title like. . like. .'
'Blizzard in Iowa?' Van said from the end of the room. 'Yeah, that's the right idea,' A. J. said. 'But blizzards are cold, our guy is hot. Haze is on fire.'
'Prairie Fire,' Ryan heard himself saying.
'Perfect. 'Prairie Fire.' ' A. J. grinned. 'That's the documentary. We're gonna be the only ones with good Haze Richards footage and the networks will be forced to use our stuff. If they want it, I'll make 'em use it uncut.'
Then Ven and Van stood up and said they were the pollsters. 'You know what we do,' they said and sat down. Ryan didn't know, but made a note to find out.
The two other people were staff and media relations, Ryan scribbled on his pad, making notes about their appearance so he could keep them straight for the six o'clock quiz.
