FFS, page 14
I scrunch up my face. “That’s not a real thing.”
“You’re right, it’s not, but it is your life until this case is over. You are in a contest of who can be a better person and, thus, a better owner of Schatzi.” He glances at his shoes. “You do want her, right?”
I jerk my head as my heart subsequently sinks to the floor. “What? Of course. She is mine. I’m the one who adopted her. He doesn’t even take her for a walk. He chains her up outside.” My eyes fill with tears.
Ginger pours some wine for all of us and puts her arm around me. “Mia, of course you do. Alex is trying to make that happen. Let’s see what he has to say. Our plans haven’t worked out thus far. Now we have a professional on the case. Take a deep breath, and let’s trust him ...” She runs her hands through my hair, and our eyes meet. “For this moment.”
I nod.
“All right, good. The first thing we are going to do is lean into PETA and its social media campaign. I have a few connections there. I will drop a few leaks of your exchanges of Schatzi. We can see how he treats her in real-time. How Schatzi responds to you as well. Maybe even have some bacon or something in your pocket.” Alex laughs.
I shake my head. “No, Schatzi likes these jerky strips that are good for her tendons.”
“Sure, yeah. You know best. Anyways, we get some video and pics of that and we can get a social media campaign going. I will drop his family’s company in the comments and we will see if this brings out the commenter trolls to do their thing, and I think that might draw up enough distraction from his focus on you. His family will not want a public issue with PETA or any other large group, I imagine.”
Ginger blows out through her mouth. “Yeah, that’s good, he would hate to have anything to cause a problem with his reputation or his family’s reputation.”
“I don’t want to cause financial harm to the business.” I rub my lips together.
Alex and Ginger’s heads swing a sharp turn like I said I enjoy eating dragons for breakfast.
“Mia, that is all he has done to you. That is all he has tried to do to me.” Ginger’s red locks shake along the sides of her face.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to cause others harm.” I roll my shoulders back.
“You are being caused harm. You are going to lose Schatzi. You are not going to sit in a puddle and wait for the next hit. We are not doing that this time.” Ginger waves her finger at me.
“I need to know one thing. Are we in this to win it or not?” Alex stares his brown eyes down at me.
“Yes, of course.” I nod in further affirmation.
“That’s all I needed to hear. The campaign starts in the morning.” Alex nods at both of us and gathers his paperwork. “Good night.”
We both say good night to him. And a few minutes after Ginger gives me a pep talk to lift my spirits, I leave her house.
On the drive home, I think about how much I want to win, I really do. Yes, I want to be okay. I have a plan. Scratch that, we have a plan. I am okay. Schatzi will be okay. I just need to keep this message in the forefront of my mind.
I make my way back home. Despite the bit of wine. It’s still early, and I need to finish my run. I gather myself together, take a swig of water, and run through the parking lot of my complex. Thankfully it connects to the trail. As my feet contact the gravel, I’m blinded by the light. Literally. I can’t see. There are eighty million photographers with flashes and loud commands in my face. I duck and try to run farther away from them all. I am a nobody. What is this about? This crowd is lined over a bridge that leads onto the path. They have signs and bullhorns.
“Free Schatzi’s mom” is being shouted through the crowd.
I glance up and make eye contact with several people in the crowd. All eyes are on me. Are they really this concerned? I’m in shock. I blink to check myself. Yep. Everyone is still here. I stop for a second and tap someone. “What are y’all protesting?”
“You, silly. We are not going to stand down and allow some D-bag to take his misogynistic control over a mom who just wants to be with her baby.” She stares me straight in the eye and raises a fist in the air. “Save Schatzi’s mom” bursts from her lungs. This protester is next-level ready to fight for me. Not just for me. But for Schatzi.
Strangers. So many strangers who know nothing of me or Schatzi, and here they are. Full force in arms, linked side by side. They don’t hold back. They are ready for any type of attack. And what are they in this for? Me and Schatzi. I can’t help but have my breath swept away. This is almost too much. Yet, my momma taught me right. When a grandiose moment happens, you don’t walk away, you thank the giver and accept their grandiosity. This is what is happening right now. I am the receiver at this moment. A moment of disarray. A moment of people not being able to accept things as they are. They are not going to read the words and take them as facts. These are the truth seekers, the keepers of the faith. The ones that are going to rise above everything that we have been involved in. I nod. I get it. We are in this together. Though they might not actually feel the personal outcome of my battle. They see me in it and they are not going to let me battle alone. They have risen to the challenge and will not go silently into the night. These are the people that keep the world in motion and make me want to wake up each day and work harder. Not for me ... but for them.
Chapter Thirteen
“Money moves mountains, mouths, and monopolies.”
It’s interesting the difference between people with money and those without. Those with money can throw together an almost last-minute fundraiser at the drop of a hat. They can book a private room in a restaurant filled with white tablecloths and soft candlelight. The perfect level of dimness from accent lights, almost as if they were the founders of the “no overhead lights ever” theme.
Dan from the Medical Group kept his promise and booked a room at La Griglia for my final fundraiser before the election. We didn’t really speak at all about it. I called him and left a voicemail. Then I followed up with a text message, and he sent me the contact of his assistant, Shelby. The text read, she can handle it for you.
I was a bit concerned with the hand-off, but I had no other options and, thus, pulled up my insecurity britches and pushed the call button on my phone. Shelby accommodated everything and asked for my Act Blue links for donations and said she would send out the invite to all of Dan’s contacts, which is a literal gold mine of dollars. Despite his aggression at the previous event, he would be helpful in this last round of hope to raise enough money to get one more mailer out to the voters and maybe even hire a few pole workers for early voting and election day. One can only wish for the best.
I check myself in my compact mirror once more before I exit the car. No lipstick on my teeth, a good sign. The night is going to go well. The energy feels right. Even though I lean left always.
It’s 4:59 p.m., a good time to arrive. Ginger will be here any minute, and though I do not have an official campaign manager, I was able to get a member of our Democratic club to volunteer as the sign-in person. The key is to have someone who has a little bit of assertion as to not allow people into the room without prior registration. Meaning they paid in advance. Or have them pay on the spot. There are plenty of people who will get an invite, show up, drink, and enjoy light bites on the house and offer nothing in return.
The whole point of the evening is to raise money. Not just be seen. Other than me. I need to be seen, and the one thing I dread ... being heard. I have to give a speech. I am doing better, but there is definitely room for improvement. I practiced tonight’s speech at least five times in front of my phone in advance. Watched it back for glitches and weird and/or awkward moments. Which, unfortunately, had more than a few.
I nod at Sarah. “Hey, Sarah, thank you so much for doing this!” The sides of my mouth are raised to a level that the Joker might even be put off by. I can’t help myself. I get a bit overjoyed when people show up and volunteer. It warms my heart and the side effect is a dopey smile. I guess there are worse things. Ha.
“Of course, this is really nice.” Sarah motions to the room. “I haven’t been here before.”
“I agree, I haven’t either.” I let out a little laugh.
“Well, get used to it. This is the life of a legislator.” I feel a heavy hand on the back of my lower back.
I step to the side with candor and a slight smile. My chest tightens. I take in a small breath and remind myself to be calm, cool, and collected. “That’s funny.” I internally grimace. What kind of a response was that?
“No, no jokes here. This is the life. You’ll see.” Dan raises his glass and motions to the wall of “only top shelf, would normally be locked-up” wine.
“Well, I guess we’ll see. Thank you so much for hosting for us tonight. I really appreciate it.” I let my lips press together and force them not to rub back and forth.
Steady. Steady.
“Of course, then again, if your lawyer Maxwell—"
“Dan, good to see you.” Ginger opens her arms for a hug and a light kiss on the cheeks. She never fails to enter the room without major grandeur. She is in a black snug cocktail dress with feathers on the bottom of her sleeves. The shoes have got to be the new Louis she got for Christmas. If Vogue magazine cover were a person, it would be Ginger.
“Ginger, so glad you could make it. I am really counting on you to make sure our voice is heard in Austin this session.” Dan’s eyes peer down onto Ginger’s face and then to mine. No words come from his mouth, but his face suggests an agreement or offer that cannot be refused in the future has been made. The mood is giving Francis Ford Coppola, and I am beginning to sense there could be a horse’s head placed in my bed if an offer is refused.
“Now, Dan, you know I have the best interest of the medical community, as does Mia. She is going to be fantastic. Who did you invite tonight with big pockets to help get her across the finish line?” Ginger’s green eyes scan the rooms as if she can see into the bank accounts of the attendees.
“I invited Tammy Smith.”
Ginger shakes her head. “Dan, how can you talk out of both hands? You can’t talk about big money donors and then not include their actual title.” Ginger purses her lips. “It’s Dr. Smith.”
Dan laughs. “Of course, but I knew her before she added those credentials.”
Ginger sighs. “And yet, the misogyny remains.” Her voice is almost a whisper, but we all hear her.
“Hey, I’m proud of her. I just ...” Dan drops his jaw. “Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t our biggest donor of the night.” Dan raises his glass as Ginger and I turn to see who his focus is on.
“Maxwell?” I let fall from my mouth before I can use some form of self-control.
“Good evening. Good turnout. Yes?” Maxwell eyes the room.
It’s filled with members of the legal and medical community. Most of who I don’t know personally. These are individuals who owe something to someone else here. They are giving money for them, not that they don’t necessarily believe in me. It doesn’t matter what level of life you are, most people in Texas tune out politics. This is by design. But the group of people here know that they need to listen to others that do pay attention and they have put their trust and money into what they have advised. Like Dan and, apparently, Maxwell.
“Hey, don’t you have a speech to give?” Dan taps my arm.
My veins tense, but I can hold myself steady. I really need to work on my reactions to normalcy. At least I am somewhat aware of how certain physical touches affect me, even if they are not intended to upset or threaten me. This probably goes back to the trauma of my past, but I cannot let it affect my future.
“Yes, we should get to it before people are ready to leave.” I let out a slight laugh, as I would prefer a smaller amount of people here, but that is not what one should actually hope for.
Dan grabs a mic from a makeshift podium made of a metal paper holder most likely used for bands. I wrote out a speech, but I have given enough of them to know not to read from it. I can glance if need be.
“Hey, everyone, if I can grab your attention.” Dan claps his hands over the mic. The murmurs of the crowd dissipate. “Thank you. Now, I appreciate each and every one of you who came tonight. But coming here tonight is not enough. That was not the big ask. I know I can fill a room—just look at my ‘end of the year’ holiday party.” He laughs and people from the room join. “That’s right, you know Dan will make sure you have a good time and that you are taken care of.” He eyes the room and nods at a few select individuals. “Now, I need you to help take care of the state of Texas.” He does the classic thumb-up fist gesture, almost as if he is making an impression of President Clinton. “This is a pivotal time for us. I need each of you to reach deep into your pockets and kick into Mia Verita’s campaign.” He claps his hands together and hands me the mic.
My nerves are like a whack-a-mole in my head. I tap the sides of my leg with my left hand.
“Oh, well, thank you so much, Dan, I really appreciate your kind words.” The narrator in my head is in an argument over the words I am speaking versus the reality of his introduction. I nod and eye the room myself. Faces I have barely met or not at all are all focused on me. We are in a cocktail setting. These possible donors do not want me to get to the nitty gritty of your Seventh Amendment right. Or the complex legislation that needs to have multiple lawyers review it before you file your bill. No, tonight I need to bring up relatable easy bills that everyone will have had some sort of experience with.
I have a long list of issues I want to tackle once I’m sworn in. Some are personal things that I experienced and want to fix so that others do not have to go through the same thing. Others are issues that I have followed like rape insurance or pro-active legislation to prepare for the next weather disaster. There are kitchen table issues like Public School funding and whether or not we can open another DMV in their area, time and money always motivate voters. Then there are little issues that might seem small or unimportant until you find yourself having to hire an attorney to help you. These little issues are the kind to bring up in this type of group.
“Words matter, and this is why it is so important for us to elect representatives who will keep the promises that they make but also not ignore words that will change the course of history for you.” I rub my lips together. “How many people here have ever had a speeding ticket?” I let the sides of my mouth pull up. “Don’t worry, we won’t judge you. Ha! Okay, anyone in this room who may have had to step foot in the courtroom or was bothered by an HOA notification of something on their property that was out of place?” The crowd groans. “Right? Oh no, you have a piece of grass growing out of your driveway, that will be $50 and another $25 for them to send you the letter.” I nod as the crowd begins to talk. There are grimaces and angry faces.
“I know, these are things that are upsetting to us. But these are things we can work on together to make it better. Some laws are helpful and that will protect you and your property.” The group begins to nod in agreement with the possibility of good legislation. “That’s right, with your help and investment in my campaign, I can promise you that I will work tirelessly for you and your best interest.” Everyone begins to clap. “Thank you—let’s go win this!”
I join in the clap with them. As my hands touch in the repetitive motion, the blood flows through my fingertips and somehow at the very top of the final piece of skin that forms my individualized print, I actually believe it’s possible to win.
Chapter Fourteen
“Nothing left on the field ... tally the votes.”
And so it begins, right back to where I began this race. So much uncertainty. So many unknowns. I put my name on the ballot with the full knowledge that this seat had been a Republican stronghold for over two decades. Two decades. Yes, I knew this, but I also knew that I could talk to people like a regular person. I know that I could and would represent them. Even if their thoughts differed or were based on oppositional ideologies. For the most part, we would and could agree. I ran on this. Many battles were had at the door. I engaged in all the debates. Friendly and maybe some that were antagonistic. Then Election Day came upon us. What were we to do? Where was I to go? I took the day off from my job, so I could work the polls, and yes, I did make many jokes about this. Even though I am extremely against strip clubs, that is another argument. Jose and Mallory were supportive of my election. They even volunteered to work a few polls themselves. We were able to be at fifteen of the thirty-eight key voting locations in the district. We ended at the last one before the deadline with an encounter with an extreme far-right Republican who was literally lying at the polls about my opponent. And she was so aggressive. This small woman with her pamphlets and false promises from a man who probably wouldn’t be able to pick her out from a crowd. But she was grandstanding for him. I don’t understand that level of loyalty when you have no idea how wrong you are. It’s horrible. Our entire system needs to be overhauled, but also, we also need to engage our youth in the reality that is before them. They need to be empowered to make proper decisions for themselves and to know who and what they are voting for. Our school systems are silent on this. Texas is horrible about the education of civics in our public schools. It’s almost as if the Texas Board of Education does not want the youth to vote or run for office. Oh, that’s just what one would refer to as saying the silent part out loud.
It’s a travesty. If elected, I will make it my mission to engage the youth, to understand what is at stake and how much their vote matters.
I take a deep breath. I’ve been at this location for over two hours. It’s early and most people are at work, but I am here regardless.
A man in a wheelchair approaches me. His nails are longer than one would expect. “Hey there, I got your mailers.” He points at me.
