'Whatta you think of this guy, Don Alo?' the waiter asked, respectfully.
Mickey smiled. 'I think one day soon, he's gonna be my President.'
While Mickey was watching the six o'clock news in the social club in Little Italy, Lucinda and Ryan were three time zones to the west on the aft deck of the Linda.
It was three o'clock Pacific standard time, and they had the little portable TV placed on the companionway steps to shield the screen from the slanting light. Ryan was feeling dull from an afternoon of lying outside in the sun. He was watching without expression as the network big feet called state after state for Haze Richards.
'Let's switch now to Leslie Wing at Haze Richards's hotel in Memphis,' Dale Hellinger said. Dale was a tall, distinguished black commentator with a voice like James Earl Jones's, who had taken over for Brenton Spencer at UBC. The shot switched to an attractive Asian correspondent standing in a roomful of festive campaigners.
'Thank you, Dale. It's a party here at Richards's Election Central and a foregone conclusion that Haze Richards is going to sweep all of the Super Tuesday states by large margins.' She glanced off-camera for a second. 'I see Haze's campaign chairman. . Let me see if I can get him over.' She moved with her cameraman in pursuit; then A. J.'s bushy head came into the frame of the small TV.
'Mr. Teagarden, Mr. Teagarden. . Leslie Wing, UBC. This is quite a night,' she said as the wonk turned and grinned into the camera. People whooped it up and danced behind them.
'We seem to be doing something right, Leslie.'
'Haze was a political unknown only a month ago, and now it looks as if he's all but sewn up the Democratic nomination.'
'The American people are looking for something. There's a feeling of anger out there, Leslie. . a feeling that, in the current system of government, there is something desperately wrong. Haze stands for what can be right. He'sgonna redefine the process of government. Grab the institutions of power back from the Washington lobbyists. He'sgonna get it running the way the people want it t o r un. It's why I'm with him, and I think it's why America is with him tonight.'
'Thank you.' And Leslie Wing turned back to the camera. 'It's a madhouse here, Dale. People are really enjoying themselves.'
'Tell me, Leslie,' Dale said from Brenton's old anchor desk. 'Is there any word from Governor Richards on when he'll come down and give his victory speech?'
'Let me try and find out, Dale.' She tried to follow A. J., but he was dancing a polka with a fat campaign contributor. . arms and feet flying, off across the floor like two dancing hippos. 'I'm sorry, Dale, it's just unbelievable here.'
Ryan and Lucinda watched without saying a word as the fifty-foot ketch swayed slowly in the wind at the end of its anchor chain.
'What's for dinner?' Ryan finally asked.
'I was thinking I'd go into town and get us a nice two-inch steak. How about barbecued beef, a green salad, and garlic bread, and the best red wine I can find?'
'I'd like that.'
Lucinda went below and changed out of Linda's bathing suit, into a pair of Linda's shorts and a cropped top that she'd found in a drawer under the forward bunk. She jumped into the rubber Avon boat, started the five-horse outboard engine, and went to buy dinner. On the way into Avalon, she wondered if the nightmare was over for them, or just beginning. .
Chapter 44
Vice President James 'Pudge' Anderson watched the returns from the vice presidential residence at the naval observatory on Massachusetts Avenue. He had just finished his own southern swing through the Super Tuesda y s tates, but had decided to go back to Washington an d w atch the returns from there. The Republican primary wa s n ot much of a contest. He had no real opposition. He ha d t he party backing and the influence of the sitting President, Charles 'King' Cotton. What annoyed him was the networks' profuse enthusiasm for Haze Richards, especiall y f rom this new black anchor, Dale Hellinger, at UBC.
Pudge had called his own campaign manager, Carl 'Henny' Henderson.
'You watching this, Henny?' Pudge asked.
'Y' mean the Haze Richards runaway railroad?'
'Yeah. This guy was cooking lobsters last month and now he's gonna make America work again for all of us.'
'Don't let it get to ya, Pudge. This is their night. We're not a story 'cause you're running more or less unopposed. The good news is Skatina is gonna drop out I just got off the phone with his guys. They were told by their backers they hadda win tonight or the money was gonna dry up.
So he's out. I'd rather run against Haze than Skatina any day, 'specially since Skatina is from your state, New York, and he could split us there. Let these guys soak in the glory tonight and tomorrow we're gonna start the bimborama.'
'I don't like doing that, Henny. We oughta be able to win on our record, on our ideas.' Pudge was a rare breed of politician who always kept his sense of honor elevated a notch or two above his need to win. The big problem was that James Anderson was colorless. His own staff joked that Pudge was so nondescript he could lose a tail in an elevator. But, even so, his life had been a steady climb to power.
He had been fascinated by politics since he was a child. His father had been a three-term United States senator. Pudge had gone to Ivy League colleges and had fought in the Korean War, starting in Seoul as a green lieutenant and ending up as a battle-hardened company commander. He won two Purple Hearts and a Silver Star, but after being wounded, he refused to let them send him home, choosing to recover in Seoul and remain with his unit until his hitch was up. That story defined him. Pudge had been his nickname since grade school. He was no longer a plump sixth-grader, but the name still somehow stuck.
Pudge had risen slowly in the party, but eventually people became dependent on him, finally realizing what a steady force the dedicated young man was, and he was elected to Congress.
Four years ago, Charles 'King' Cotton asked him to join the Republican ticket. King didn't need a colorful vice president; he had enough color for a Florida sunset. What he needed was regional balance, and the New York congressman got the nod. Then halfway through his first term, King Cotton had developed prostate cancer. Pudge knew that the charismatic, white-haired President was dying. That was how the fattest kid in the sixth grade came to be running, unopposed, on the Republican ballot for the presidency of the United States.
'I don't want to start a bimbo attack,' Pudge repeated to Henny Henderson.
'You say that now, but we gotta throw some dynamite, Pudge. I don't think Haze is much to worry about, but we gotta unwind some of this precious bullshit. 'Make America work again,' and then he rides into town like Clark Kent and gets lucky with the Teamsters in your home state. That sets him up for voters. They think he can perform in a crisis, but this guy has a pretty damn good performance record in a bedroom, too.'
'Let's get him on his voting record.'
'There's nothing to look at. You gotta let me do my thing, Pudge.'
'We'll talk in the morning,' Pudge said, hanging up and switching around to the various networks, ending on UBC.
'We're going to call the Republican primaries for Vice President Anderson in all twenty states, as expected,' Dale Hellinger announced. 'But the big news, the roller-coaster ride here at campaign central, is the overwhelming night that Haze Richards has had for the Democrats. We might even call it a history-making event, a landslide Democratic primary victory for Haze Richards in all twenty states with margins that are absolutely stunning.'
Pudge wanted to keep from toting out the bimbos that Henny had found. But by ten o'clock, as state after state set record Democratic wins for Governor Richards, he wondered if bimbos might end up being his last line of defense.
Anita Richards felt deserted and lied to. AJ. had told her Haze couldn't win. She took a long gulp of vodka out
