Bad Girls Finish First Read Online Free Page B

it,” Grace said. “I’ll do what I can.”

3
    C hristopher wandered around the war room of his father’s campaign office while he waited for Michael to complete a phone call. Michael’s main campaign headquarters was on the eleventh floor of the nicest office building in Austin. The room was a high-energy mess. Phone bank volunteers plugged one ear with a finger while they called voters; others stuffed mailers. Christopher’s practiced eye assured him that beneath the hectic surface, things were being accomplished like clockwork. He stopped in front of a new poster, which read, “Committed To Lead” beneath a photo of Michael.
    â€œHe looks like a winner, like a man who knows what he wants and will not be denied,” Christopher said to the campaign staffer who was preparing to ship the posters around the state. “I like it.”
    â€œIt’s a good thing you do. You’re looking at yourself in another twenty years, you know.” She winked at Christopher, picked up a stack of posters, and walked away.
    Christopher scanned the room, taking in banners, yard signs, and bumper stickers written in Spanish and Vietnamese. A huge corkboard was filled with “the dailies,” which were the day’s newspaper clippings from papers all over the nation. The New York Times ran an in-depth profile of Michael titled: TEXAS POISED FOR FIRST BLACK GOVERNOR .
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    The Wall Street Journal included an op-ed opinion with the caption: TEXAS PERILOUSLY CLOSE TO FALLING INTO INEXPERIENCED HANDS .
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    â€œChris.” Michael stuck his head in the door. “Come on in, son.”
    Michael’s private portion of the headquarters was orderly and tastefully decorated with beautiful African artifacts. The space bespoke power, just like his home and Senate offices did. The only things on display besides art were pictures of Michael at different stages of his career. There was one of him with both Bush presidents at a formal dinner, one with Bill Clinton, and another of him being presented with a humanitarian award by Nelson Mandela. His bookshelves were dotted with plaques and pictures from past campaign victories. The best snapshots from Michael’s past Senate races weren’t on display because Grace was in them. They’d been replaced by an eight by ten of Michael and Raven, both beaming as Michael gave his victory speech after the Democratic primary.
    â€œHow was Dallas? The office running okay?” Michael asked, eager to begin his one-on-one time with his eldest son. He reveled in the young man’s every word and movement and still saw Christopher as the miracle that he’d been when Michael first held him over twenty years earlier.
    â€œYep, the office is fine. We picked up five new volunteers, all about my age,” Christopher said as he took a seat before his father’s huge mahogany desk. He gave Michael a detailed account of the Dallas headquarters’ progress during the prior week. Michael asked about some specific tasks and was pleased, but not surprised, to find out that Christopher had gone over and above what he had been asked to do.
    â€œEverything else going well?” Michael asked, averting his eyes.
    â€œSure,” Christopher lied. Michael’s question was a veiled reference to Grace. He asked the same thing every time Christopher returned to Austin, and each time Christopher told him the same lie because he figured it was what his father wanted to hear. Michael knew it wasn’t the truth, but he accepted it.
    Michael set the stack of papers that were at the center of his desk to one side. “So what’s got you so fired up you couldn’t wait until later to tell me?” he asked his son.
    â€œI just heard that you’ve decided to have Dudley Capps as your chief of staff.”
    â€œYou heard right. I talked to Dudley about it this morning and he’s up for the challenge.”
    â€œBut Dad,