ROMANCING THE BULLDOG (19 page)

how they were wrapped around him last night as he lifted her and penetrated her so deeply that

her scream seemed like such a mixture of agony and ecstasy that it turned him on even more.

He knew her legs now like he knew the back of his hand. He didn’t need to take sneak peeps.

He was amused, however, that his entire male staff found it necessary. “The mayor can

start,” she went on, “by cutting ties with an overtly racist organization like the Conservative

Heritage Society. Every minority knows what they’re about.”

Stephen frowned. “You must be joking! They’re one of our largest donors, not to

mention one of Jason’s staunchest supporters. We can’t give that up!”

“Then you have your answer.”

“You don’t understand,” Stephen said.

“I understand perfectly. I understand that politics make strange bedfellows. But CHS is

too strange for minorities. You want to show signs, get rid of CHS.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, as did DeeDee, but Jason looked conflicted. If he lose his

conservative base, his political future was doomed. But if he lose Liz and her respect, his life

was doomed. He exhaled. “Send out a press release, Dee,” he said, “announcing my decision

to decline Grady Hayward’s endorsement. And send it out today,” he added.

Liz looked at him, astounded. After the way he didn’t want to discuss it the other day, she

didn’t expect him to move at all. He was beginning to amaze her, which, in a budding but still

tumultuous relationship, was the best either one of them could hope for.

***

massive office above the Big D nightclub. In addition to Hamp, his son Malcolm and Clay

Davis were in attendance. After the mayor came out publicly that Liz was his girlfriend, Clay

had become angry. It was his opinion that an asshole Republican like Jason Rascone did not

deserve a woman like Liz Morgan, not that beautiful black sister who could have any black

man she wanted. When Mal told her that he and his father believed the mayor was using her,

he knew he had to get involved. He asked for and received an audience with Hamp

Morgan.

“So he just barged his way into your dinner with Liz?” Hamp asked.

“Yes, sir,” Clay said, sitting, with Mal, in front of Hamp’s massive desk. Hamp was

seated behind his desk. “As if he owned her.”

“I’m not surprised. He always had a, shall I say, romantic interest in Liz. He claimed he’s

the one who took her virginity.”

Clay was stunned. “Really? Was he the one?”

“Don’t be idiotic,” Hamp said. “He didn’t have access to my daughter but one night, the

night before she left for Harvard, and she was eighteen by then. No way was that unhinged

bitch still a virgin.”

Clay was astounded by Hamp’s description of his own daughter, but not entirely

surprised. Hamp always seemed to treat Liz with little respect, as if Mal was his real child and

she was somehow a pretender. Some of his friends thought it had to do with the fact that

Hamp was so in love with Liz’s mother that when she died, he took it out on Liz. Clay

couldn’t say.

“Yeah, she was out there all right,” Clay said, remembering Liz and remembering that her

antics was one of the reasons why they stopped hanging, but she never gave it up to him. It

wouldn’t be out of the question for Liz to have remained a virgin until she was eighteen.

Unless Mr. Morgan knew something Clay didn’t know.

“You know he went to Harvard looking for her after she left town,” Hamp said.

“Who?” Clay asked, shocked if he had it right. “Rascone?”

“Yup,” Mal said. “That’s how we found out who she’d taken up with. Jason told us.”

“But why would he go all the way to Harvard?” Clay wanted to know.

“Why do you think?” Hamp said. “To hook up with her again. My daughter is as quirky

as all get out, but she’s also gorgeous in case you missed it. He slept with her, loved the sex

undoubtedly, and had to have it again. And believe you me, sex was the only thing that would

get an immoral prick like Bulldog Rascone on a plane for Massachusetts to hook up with some

girl.”

“But they never hooked up?”

“Not as far as we know, they didn’t,” Mal said. “Until here recently, which we knew

nothing about. Now you say he came at you during your dinner date with her.”

“Well, not at me. He was actually very nice. But man was he possessive of Liz. It was

like he wanted me to know in no uncertain terms that she was his.”

Hamp glanced at Mal. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” Mal said.

“About right for what?” Clay asked.

“For what Rascone is up to,” Hamp said. “He’s using her, don’t you dare think he’s not.

He’s trying to position himself to neutralize the black vote. If he can peel off just ten percent

of that vote, he’ll win reelection. The fact that he’s dating a black woman could be romantic

to some folks, I don’t know, it’s ridiculous to me. But never underestimate the voting public.

Half of the Republicans think President Obama wasn’t born in the US of A. What does that

tell you?”

“That stupidity comes in every race?” Clay said and Hamp and Mal laughed.

“Exactly,” Hamp said.

“But I still don’t get it. Even without black support, Rascone has always won his

elections. Why would he need more black support this cycle?”

Mal and his father exchanged glances again. “Because the Democratic party,” Mal said,

“is thinking seriously about running a credible black candidate. That’s why.”

Clay immediately understood.

“So what should be done about it, gentleman?” Hamp asked. “I don’t know about the two

of you, but I am not about to cede my daughter to that asshole, especially if using her could

mean victory for him.”

“I say we get vocal,” Mal said. “We’ve got to go for the jugular.”

“The race card?” Clay asked.

“Deal the race card,” Mal said, ‘and deal it from the bottom of the deck.”

Hamp looked at Clay. It was already their strategy. He just wanted to see if Clay could

be an ally. When Clay slowly began to smile and push those glasses up on his flat face, he

knew that he could. Good, he thought. It’s on.

THIRTEEN

“Manny is here to see you,” Shameika said as she entered Liz’s office. Liz was in the

middle of going over her equipment inventory sheets and looked up only after noting that the

computers had created a cost overrun.

“Who?”

“Manny. He says he’s from some garage that’s repairing your car.”

“Oh, yes! Send him through, please.”

Shameika opened the door wider, and Manny, the car repairman, came through.

“Hi,” Liz said, standing up. “Have a seat.”

“I can’t stay,” Manny said, walking up and handing her her keys. “These are yours.”

Liz looked at the keys and then looked at him. “I don’t understand. I know the storage

fees are racking up, but I told you as soon as I can get up the cash, I’ll take care of it.”

“Lady, your car was paid for a couple weeks ago. We just had to finish repairing it.”

“Paid for? By whom?”

“Some guy named Carl Browning. He took care of it.”

Liz wanted to smile. Jason.

“It’s outside,” Manny said as he was leaving. “It’s good to go.”

Liz hurried to the window, saw her beloved Mustang parked behind Jason’s Aston Martin,

and she smiled. And got Jason on his cell phone.

“Thank-you,” she said.

“You’re welcome, my princess,” Jason responded. He was walking toward the city

council chambers to discuss the latest amendments scheduled for votes later today. “May I

ask what it is I’m being thanked for?”

“My Mustang is here. You had it repaired, in the name of Carl Browning, of course.”

Jason smiled. “Of course. You’re pleased?”

“Very. Thank-you so much, Jace. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Then come over here and prove it.”

Liz laughed. “You are a sex fiend, you know that?”

“Only with you, my darling.” And Jason meant it.

“I’ve got work to do.”

“So do I. Tonight then?”

“No, not tonight. It’ll seem as if I’m paying you back with sex.”

“No, would it? Then not tonight. This afternoon.”

Liz laughed. “Bye, boy!” she said playfully and hung up the phone.

Her jovially mood was rocked less than an hour later, however, when she and Shameika

were in the rec room talking to a group of teenagers who thought it would be cool to start up a

rap group, the Meyers Center Rappers. Liz thought it showed creativity and ingenuity. She

also saw that it would require discipline, their biggest weakness. The TV was on at the time,

but nobody was paying it any attention until breaking news was announced. Liz and Shameika

looked up and were shocked when Liz’s father, flanked by two political operatives they didn’t

know, came on and announced his intention to run for mayor. Shameika looked at Liz.

“Your daddy running too?” she asked Liz, but Liz was too stunned to speak. Especially as

her father’s press conference continued: “I have to run,” he said, “to save this city. Nobody

will say it, but I will. Ever since Jason Rascone took over as mayor we have run budget

deficits and lost all credibility with the markets. We need leadership from a businessman,

somebody who will restore our greatness, and we need it now. Jason Rascone is nothing but a

weak, ineffective leader who I personally know to be a racist on top of it.”

Liz’s heart dropped.

“A racist?” one reporter asked. “How can you call the mayor a racist when he’s dating a

black woman, a woman, by the way, who happens to be your daughter?”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Hamp said. “Have you folks in the media once asked

yourselves why? Why all of a sudden Mayor Rascone bust out with the big news about his

relationship with a black woman, one that, as you said, Ed, happens to be my daughter? Isn’t

that the most ironic thing? That of all the black women he could have chosen, he chooses to

date the one that happens to be the daughter of his opponent. That’s not ironic, folks, that

plain cynical politics. Rascone will do anything to win. That’s why we used to call him

Bulldog, because he’ll knock over you, me, and his sick grandmamma to win. Now he sees a

black man in the race and figures he’s got to go black himself. Date a black woman, pick up a

black vote here and there. Not that blacks are so simple as to vote for a man just because he

dates one of their own, but Jason Rascone is betting that their just that simple-minded. That’s

the racist creed. Pee on them and call it rain.” The press corps laughed.

“But your theory doesn’t hold up, Hamp,” Ed, the reporter, continued his questioning.

“You’re just this very moment announcing your surprise candidacy. How could the mayor

have known about it if even we in the media didn’t?”

“Oh, he knew,” Hamp said, “because I told him myself.”

Liz could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“You told him?” Ed asked, stunned too.

“I told him a week before he announced that my daughter was his supposed girlfriend.

One solid week. He’s using her to neutralize the black vote and thereby beat me. Pure and

simple.”

Shameika looked at Liz, who didn’t look well at all. “Mayor Rascone is using you?” she

asked her. But Liz was in no position to answer. She walked out of the Center, got into her

Mustang, and left.

***

phone. “Call me, Liz,” he said when her voice mail picked up again. “Liz, it’s not true. Call

me.”

His staff was already waiting for him in his office when he arrived. And every one of

them was in damage control mode.

“I knew Hamp Morgan was ruthless,” Carl Browning said as Jason made his way to his

desk. “But I never dreamed in a million years he could be this ruthless. That man is

certifiable.”

“A racist,” Stephen started ticking off the charges, “using his daughter to win black votes,

weak, ineffective. He threw in the kitchen sink, the tub, the dishwasher, the refrigerator at

you, Jace! We’ll in trouble.”

Jason stood behind his desk and looked at his staff. They all looked terrified, ready for

battle, but unsure what the orders should be. He exhaled. “Yes, we’re in trouble,” he

admitted.

“Miss Morgan has got to make a statement,” Carl said, “and she has got to hit back hard.”

“Hit back hard?” Jason said angrily. “Hit back hard at who? Her own father? Are you

nuts, Carl? You think I’m going to have her in front of cameras tearing apart the man who

birth her?”

“He had no problems tearing her apart,” Dexter said.

“We’ve got to do something, Jace,” Stephen said, “we can’t just let this stand.”