Against the Odds: Book One; The Candidate Read online

  Big Bart was a political genius. He never lost a race—be it for ward boss, councilman, then mayor, and finally for the state legislature. Next would be a run for Congress. Every step of the way, his sprite of a daughter was at his side, learning how to win, whatever the cost, good and bad, to solidify Big Bart’s unbroken victory chain. Max Sheldon, one of Bart’s many fixers, shook his head in admiration at the precocious eleven-year-old. “Goddammit, Bart, you can fire any secretary you might have had. That little gal of yours can run your shop better than any of ’em. Hell, I don’t know what I like better about the little scamp: that she’s gonna be as much of a looker as her dad or the fact that no matter who’s on the other end of the telephone, what Gia doesn’t know she just makes up.”

  Jerry Riley agreed. “That little girl is gonna be as good as her daddy at stealing votes as he is at stealing hearts.”

  It turned out that Gia was as good at both as her prodigious father. Although Gia was content with merely stealing hearts, being more protective of her nubile body than her profligate father was of his egregiously wanton ways. What they also shared, no doubt because of the proximity to the HT&M and their Irish heritage, was a fondness for the grape or, in their case, the barley. When times were good in the Tremaine domiciliary, the Jameson flowed like water. When the take on their various scams dipped, they made good with Guinness dry stout. But like the blarney and the unremitting river of underground cash, in Big Bart’s domain, times were always some grade of good to great. Until the long arm of the law finally caught up with him.

  Gia never forgot the day her life took a decided turn. Coming home from acing her college senior American history test that she’d barely studied for, much less attended a single class on, she found her mother sobbing in the corner. The ashen faces of her father’s cronies foretold the crisis. To her shock, she learned that her father had been caught in a two-year FBI sting after they flipped some of his closest cronies with the promise of a pardon or a reduced sentence at least. The formerly thought to be impossible to take down ole-time boss was subjected to a perp walk that caught the cameras of cable TV eager for the drama of it all.

  Anyone but Big Bart Tremaine might have been cowed or at least shamed by his precipitous downfall. But equipped with his gigantic ego, Big Bart reveled in the attention, insisting that he would wear the ubiquitous orange jumpsuit with pride. For a solid half year, he captured the twenty-four-hour breaking news cycle with his winning smile and outrageous claims of innocence. When the prison door literally slammed behind him, he flashed a grin and with no small amount of hubris mounted the stage for the next iteration of his life. Unbowed and unashamed, he prepared to capture the hearts and minds of the convicts and prison staff as surely as he’d finagled an impossible-to-win political contest.

  Unlike her mother, who never darkened the door of the state prison, Gia faithfully visited her father every week. She loved him, frankly because of, not in spite of, what he was. Given that her passion revolved around politics, the world she’d learned at his knee, she couldn’t have had a better teacher than her father on how to run and win—and now how to avoid the overreaches of a compromised “pol.” As much as she adored him, Gia wasn’t stupid. She’d learned first-hand the foibles of a political reprobate headed for the slammer and was determined to avoid her beloved father’s fate.

  When she turned twenty-five, Gia captured in her diary the insight that would rule her world. It was a given that she would never run for office. Hell no. She’d seen what happened to incredibly accomplished pols who thought that they would never lose, always win, and no one and nothing could take them down. Coupled with that hard-earned wisdom, Gia decreed that she would never be a politician, as in personally running for office. She knew the arena and herself too well. She knew what her gifts were and intended to rise to the top based on the strength of them. She was an organizational genius, at base, a kingmaker. She knew how to read the polls. She also knew how to manipulate them. To shift them in the favor of her candidate by a carefully timed release—or, more often, by planting a negative story on his competitor.

  But first, she needed to find a client worthy of her stewardship. She’d flitted with minor contests at the college she graduated from not for any knowledge she might gain but rather to practice her kingmaking skills. She could have cared less that she graduated summa cum laude. Earning a degree to burnish her credentials wasn’t necessary. Frankly, it wasn’t something she even considered. She was on a different mission. Given her family history, Gia knew how important it was that when she climbed onto the big stage she needed a profound win. Everyone would be watching to see if Big Bart’s daughter was as skilled as her proud father had bragged that she was. To say the least, the prospective detractors were legion compared to her supporters. After all, as Gia knew, in the viciously competitive world of politics, even your best friends secretly hoped that you’d lose to make more room for them to win.

  She tested her mettle in a flurry of city council elections and the state legislature. With a solid string of wins at her back, she decided she was ready for the big time, the US Congress. Having decided that she wanted a candidate who was essentially a “blank slate,” she started auditing university classes at the Master’s and PhD levels, even the law and medical schools. The particular college was immaterial as long as it was selective, open only to the brightest of privileged entrants, or, even better, those who weren’t necessarily smart but were admitted on the basis of a familial legacy. Those were the prospective candidates she eyed. The ones who came with the financial resources and contacts that would help her raise money for their candidacy. When she went to class, it was for a purpose other than book learning. She was scouting.

  A trained investigator ferreting out clues on a serial killer who’d wiped out a small city wasn’t any more intent on his task than Gia was. She was looking for her candidate. The vessel that she would use to cement her reputation as a kingmaker. Her unknowing candidate-to-be would confirm that the lessons she’d learned from her spectacularly corrupt father could actually elect a man worthy of being elected. Gia was a trifle surprised when she admitted that the worthiness of the candidate was important to her. It was the one area in which she differed from her unrepentant father. To Big Bart, winning was everything. Worthiness wasn’t an attribute he considered essential or frankly even possible.

  Finally, after a few false starts, she found him. In a word, Aiden Martin Maxwell was beautiful. Even better, he checked all the boxes. He was rich, reasonably smart, privileged, and a trifle innocent. Aiden could have been an Abercrombie & Fitch model. He was that preppy-looking. Impeccably dressed and unfailingly polite, he was adored by all the professors, particularly the distaff side of the equation. Reasonably fit and a former high school soccer player, he truly could have anchored a GQ article on young and upcoming men who were certain to succeed.

  Once she had found him and had researched him to the nth degree, Gia planned her attack. She quickly rearranged her class schedule so that she was in three of his four classes. She revamped her startlingly sexy looks with more restrained clothes and even donned a pair of knock-off Bulgari eyeglasses to make her look more studious. When she moved in on him, she made a point of ignoring him, knowing that for a preppy luminary, that was the ultimate come-on. She knew she’d hit the money ball when he stepped in front of her, pretending that he wasn’t intent on stopping her.

  “Uh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to run you over.”

  When she just smiled sweetly and prepared to go on her way, he reached for her hand. “Uh, I don’t want to embarrass you, but I can’t believe I haven’t seen you before. You must be new.”

  She tossed her head dismissively. “No, to the contrary. I’m an old-timer. Apparently, I’m not that noticeable.”

  “Absolutely not! Uh, I mean . . . you are . . . uh . . . extremely noticeable.”

  She smiled, then cast a shy, downward glance. “I . . . I hope in a good way.”

  He flushed an
d stammered, “Yes, yes. I mean, yes, you are . . . in a good way. A very good way . . . ”

  As Gia said later to her all-knowing father, at that moment, the die was cast.

  Chapter 2

  She was lighting her third cigarette from the end of her previous one when Aiden said somewhat wistfully, “I was thinking the other day how different you seemed when I met you.”

  Gia looked up from her sheaf of polling data and eyed him critically. “Hmm, like what? Different how? God, given that was nearly three years ago, I can’t begin to remember what I was like that far back.”

  Aiden shook his head. “I dunno. It’s just that I can still remember when I first saw you. You seemed . . . so shy, so quiet. Maybe it was the glasses, but you seemed . . . studious.” Seeing her ferocious frown, he quickly added, “And, uh, you didn’t smoke then.”

  “Huh?” Gia snorted. “You dreamer. I always smoked. At least from the time I was in middle school. But why don’t you come out and say it, Aiden? It isn’t only that I smoke like a chimney. Admit it. When you met me, you thought I was a demure, sweet young thing. Not a ball-busting, profane, scantily dressed, chain-smoking, political hotshot.” When he just shrugged, she grinned and pointed to the Gazette headline above the fold. “C’mon, baby, admit it. There’s no way they’d be calling you the ‘Boy Wonder’ if your campaign manager was a docile, ass-kissing twit instead of an accomplished politico.” She added as an afterthought, “Oh and by the way, those glasses that you thought were so serious had plain glass in them. I wore them to create an effect, an ambiance.”

  Aiden frowned. “The glasses weren’t real? Gosh, they sure looked real, and . . . they made you look serious and . . . sexy.”

  When she muttered, “Uh, yeah, sport? How do you think I intended them to look?” he gave an aggrieved sigh, then nodded at the newspaper. “But you’re right. There’s no way I’d be climbing up in the polls if it wasn’t for you. God, Gia, even my dad is impressed, and you know he hasn’t always supported my campaign.”

  “Be honest, Aiden. He’s always supported your—make that his—political ambitions for you. It’s me he doesn’t support. Fuck it, he’d always planned to buy you a seat in Congress—when he thought you were ready. What he didn’t understand was that in a far-left district made up of working class men and women, an Ivy League trust fund baby would be sneered at. No matter how much cash said candidate had sprouting out of his ass.”

  Aiden frowned. “Well, yeah, right. You’re right about the district. But . . . I think my dad assumed I’d go back home. You know, to the Northeast. And then run for office. I know for sure he never intended that I’d stay in what he calls fly-over country.”

  “I agree. Your fatuous father had a different vision of your future. And for damn sure I, or anyone like me, wasn’t in that future he envisioned.” She allowed her grin to widen, then teasingly waved her hand, ensuring that the rock on her left-hand ring finger danced in the sunlight. “And he sure as fuck never thought the little Irish Catholic girl from the wrong side of the tracks would end up not only ensuring that you are the first Maxwell in the United States House of Representatives but also guarantee that all of his grandchildren will have a felon for a maternal grandfather.”

  Aiden had the decency to laugh. “Yeah, Gia, you’re right about that. I’ll never forget the first time he met you.”

  Gia grinned at him. “Hell, Aiden, I can still see the horrified look on his patrician mug. After he stopped ogling my righteous tits and tight ass, he stammered, “Tell me you’re not that Tremaine?”

  “And of course you would have to answer, “Are you asking me if I’m the daughter of the former member of the state legislature . . . ”

  Gia broke in. “But I didn’t stop there. I had to add, ‘who now happens to reside in the Florence state penitentiary.’ ” She laughed at the memory. “Honest to God, Aiden, the only memory of your supercilious father that I like more is his horror when we announced that we were engaged.”

  She shook her head and picked up her papers, then couldn’t keep herself from adding, “You do know that your uptight father, patrician edifice that he is, would give more than a few dollars to your campaign if he could be the second Maxwell to shag his son’s fiancée.”

  “Jesus, Gia. That’s disgusting. And not worthy of my father. That’s not the kind of man he is.”

  “Humph. Not sure what you mean by that, sport. That he doesn’t sleep around or that he wouldn’t give his left nut to commit incest-in-law with his son’s to-be wife?” At Aiden’s horrified gasp, Gia shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, ask the woman who knows your father and his kinks better than anyone. That would be your long-suffering mother, who can’t be in the same room with me without aiming a Gatling gun of bullets at my chest. And, honey, it isn’t only these bounteous beauties she’d shoot off if she could.” Gia turned around and smacked her ass. “No, sweet, innocent man of mine, these curvy cheeks would soon follow. Fortunately, I’ve been around frauds like your parents, the oh-so-respectable elites who are as rapacious, grasping what they want and what they think they deserve, as my father was. The only difference with my father is that he proudly claimed his appetites. In fact, he flaunted them. And of course, he didn’t have the high-level connections that your parents have to keep himself out of prison.”

  Aiden was staring at her, looking positively dumbfounded. Gia blew out a hard sigh. She admitted even she was surprised at the extent of the venom she’d spewed his way. But every once in a while, she acknowledged how angry it made her that people like Aiden’s supercilious parents got by with so much more than her father could. And that Aiden, as innocent as he was about the ways of the world, had everything handed to him as though it was his right to claim all his excesses showered on him. With a disgusted grunt, she acknowledged she was as bad as his parents. Like them, she ensured that their golden boy would rise through the political ranks without so much as putting in a hard day’s work to achieve it. No, like his parents, she’d done the hard work, endured the long sleepless nights, the gut-wrenching fatigue, the hundreds of doors slammed in her face before she got a single positive response. And now, because of her driving ambition and her commitment to his success, the golden boy had a chance to reap the rewards. The rewards she was winning for him.

  After she’d apologized to Aiden for her untoward rant, she made the excuse that she needed to go to the office. What she really wanted was to put on her running shoes and beat her body and her overactive mind into submission on a grueling ten-mile uphill run. Even knowing how much work she needed to do, she gave in to herself. Given her agitated state of mind, she decided that an arduous run might be exactly what she needed. Particularly if she was going to concentrate on the speech she was writing for Aiden’s introduction to the Harrison County delegates on Saturday. Three miles up Pagoda Peak, when she moved into that euphoric state know as runner’s high and the succeeding miles felt like they were downhill instead of a forty-five degree angle, she knew she’d made the right decision.

  Her thoughts flowed freely as they often did when she ran. Even so, she was surprised that her mind drifted to her decision to marry Aiden. She blamed her flight of fancy on the fact that she’d forgotten to take off the multi-thousand dollar ring he’d given her. Rubbing at the commitment token, she remembered when and why she decided that she would marry Aiden. Ironically, it was after the first time they made love. What made it ironic was that their coupling had been mediocre at best. They’d both had too much to drink, and as fierce as it was, it was over before it began. Obviously, it had worked for Aiden because in minutes he was snoring loudly, confirming that he was done for the night. She’d lain in the bed, staring at the ceiling, and had come to a hard conclusion. If this is what fucking was about, with the man she supposedly loved, she may as well get married.

  Her conclusion, which might have seemed like a non sequitur to others, had made total sense to her. Sex, what little she’d had of it, spurred her problematic conclusion
. It wasn’t that she was a virgin, but her previous encounters had been few and far between, usually instigated by too much to drink. She’d never had more than a one-night stand with anyone except Aiden. The only way she could explain her reaction to her inconsequential couplings was that the experiences weren’t satisfying. To be honest, they were disappointing. Concerned that something might be wrong with her, she’d bought a vibrator and some lube that guaranteed an off-the-charts erotic experience. At least that was what the look on the starstruck model’s face on the label promised. To her amazement, within a few short minutes, she had what could only be called a first-rate orgasm. It wasn’t long before she admitted that not only was she a horny woman but that she loved sex. At least sex amped by her soft porn videos and her new treasure trove of sex toys.

  After she and Aiden had fucked and he rolled over and went to sleep, she wondered if he would notice if she made herself come since she hadn’t been able to with him. She quickly excused herself for her “failure.” For God’s sake, give me a break, she berated herself. Even stimulated by her sexiest video, it took her more than the “slam bam thank you ma’am” minute and a half Aiden had given her. But knowing how sensitive men were about their sexual prowess, she decided it was bad form to sneak out of bed and head to the bathroom for a quickie. Thinking back on the experience, it made sense that was when she decided that she and Aiden should get married. After all, if sex with Aiden wasn’t all that exciting, the least she could have was the commitment that came from being married. She knew from her parents and Aiden’s parents, and frankly any of the married couples she knew, it wasn’t sex that kept them together. Obviously, they went to extracurricular activities for sex. Marriage offered something different.