so?”
“Replacing abandoned structures that have become a den of drugs and crime with clean, green spaces and attractive mixed use developments? Where can I sign up because that’s exactly what Sully did for the Inner Harbor.”
Julian shot me a look. He didn’t look pissed. He was waiting to see my response. Fuck. I was participating in active politics.
“You want to know something about the Inner Harbor? Ask someone who lives west of the MLK expressway. Seriously. It’s like someone painted an actual line down the middle of the boulevard that says ‘holy shit, you better be white and rich before you cross the street or you’re going to get arrested.’ You really want more of those lines painted through the city? Because if you’re comfortable with that, I’m working on the wrong campaign.”
He gave me a face-punchingly condescending grin. “If you think we’re ignoring race in this campaign―”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Because Sooner polls very well in West Baltimore, thanks to connections with Chief Bettis and the Food Service Workers. But I suppose you already know this?”
I held my tongue. This wasn’t a bluff I was prepared for.
The toad leaned back in his chair with several tons of smugness. “Can we finally talk about the TV spots?”
The meeting continued for another half-hour before someone found another tape to play. I turned to Julian and gave him a quick finger-salute before stealing out the back of the room as the lights dimmed. Julian let me get all the way to the street before he caught up with me. He snatched my elbow and eased me to the side of Gordon’s, his face tight with anxiety.
“Dorian? Are you still with me?”
I guided us off the street and into a storefront, weaving between nearby racks of power suits. “You think I’m not?”
“I needed you to meet these guys.”
“Thanks for that. Can’t say I’m a better person for it.”
“Good,” he chirped.
“Huh?”
“Between you and me? I hate these guys. They’re small-minded misanthropes with Poli Sci degrees. I wanted you to see what Sullivan is working with.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
“Because you’re not just a hired gun, Dorian. You actually give a shit, God help us.”
“I haven’t been delivering lately.”
“I noticed.”
“Thing is, with karma, you’re dealing with a limited resource pool.”
He furrowed his brow. “I thought you said a person can’t run out of good karma?”
“Well, that’s true to a point. But every charm I make for Sullivan changes his disposition with the Cosmos. It weakens him, in the long term. Honest truth, I’m not sure how much good I am to you anymore.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and examined the rack of jackets for a moment, nodding slowly. “Are you resigning, here?”
I gave Julian a long examination. “You know those properties I rent out down the street?”
“I remember.”
“Guess who needs to buy them to flesh out his new mixed use parcel?”
“McHenry?”
“I don’t think he even knows yet.”
His eyes were alive again “Oh, that is just absolutely perfect.”
“I wasn’t just blowing smoke in there, Julian. My renters? They’re terrified of McHenry. Cecil Rawls? He was, too.”
Julian blinked away the mention of Cecil’s name as if I had smacked him in the face with a rotting halibut.
“So, if Sullivan wants to lose this election, the best thing he can do is to forget how many registered voters in Baltimore live below the poverty line.”
“He knows.”
“Does he?”
“That’s why we haven’t gone negative. We don’t have to. McHenry thinks he can buy an election. And yes, he’s very rich and bordering on organized crime… but politically he’s a novice.” Julian held out his hand. “So, maybe stick around a little longer? I know McHenry’s got some karma coming.”
I smiled and shook Julian’s hand. “Sure I can’t convince you to come back to the Club. I may or may not be
“Replacing abandoned structures that have become a den of drugs and crime with clean, green spaces and attractive mixed use developments? Where can I sign up because that’s exactly what Sully did for the Inner Harbor.”
Julian shot me a look. He didn’t look pissed. He was waiting to see my response. Fuck. I was participating in active politics.
“You want to know something about the Inner Harbor? Ask someone who lives west of the MLK expressway. Seriously. It’s like someone painted an actual line down the middle of the boulevard that says ‘holy shit, you better be white and rich before you cross the street or you’re going to get arrested.’ You really want more of those lines painted through the city? Because if you’re comfortable with that, I’m working on the wrong campaign.”
He gave me a face-punchingly condescending grin. “If you think we’re ignoring race in this campaign―”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Because Sooner polls very well in West Baltimore, thanks to connections with Chief Bettis and the Food Service Workers. But I suppose you already know this?”
I held my tongue. This wasn’t a bluff I was prepared for.
The toad leaned back in his chair with several tons of smugness. “Can we finally talk about the TV spots?”
The meeting continued for another half-hour before someone found another tape to play. I turned to Julian and gave him a quick finger-salute before stealing out the back of the room as the lights dimmed. Julian let me get all the way to the street before he caught up with me. He snatched my elbow and eased me to the side of Gordon’s, his face tight with anxiety.
“Dorian? Are you still with me?”
I guided us off the street and into a storefront, weaving between nearby racks of power suits. “You think I’m not?”
“I needed you to meet these guys.”
“Thanks for that. Can’t say I’m a better person for it.”
“Good,” he chirped.
“Huh?”
“Between you and me? I hate these guys. They’re small-minded misanthropes with Poli Sci degrees. I wanted you to see what Sullivan is working with.”
“Why? What does it matter?”
“Because you’re not just a hired gun, Dorian. You actually give a shit, God help us.”
“I haven’t been delivering lately.”
“I noticed.”
“Thing is, with karma, you’re dealing with a limited resource pool.”
He furrowed his brow. “I thought you said a person can’t run out of good karma?”
“Well, that’s true to a point. But every charm I make for Sullivan changes his disposition with the Cosmos. It weakens him, in the long term. Honest truth, I’m not sure how much good I am to you anymore.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and examined the rack of jackets for a moment, nodding slowly. “Are you resigning, here?”
I gave Julian a long examination. “You know those properties I rent out down the street?”
“I remember.”
“Guess who needs to buy them to flesh out his new mixed use parcel?”
“McHenry?”
“I don’t think he even knows yet.”
His eyes were alive again “Oh, that is just absolutely perfect.”
“I wasn’t just blowing smoke in there, Julian. My renters? They’re terrified of McHenry. Cecil Rawls? He was, too.”
Julian blinked away the mention of Cecil’s name as if I had smacked him in the face with a rotting halibut.
“So, if Sullivan wants to lose this election, the best thing he can do is to forget how many registered voters in Baltimore live below the poverty line.”
“He knows.”
“Does he?”
“That’s why we haven’t gone negative. We don’t have to. McHenry thinks he can buy an election. And yes, he’s very rich and bordering on organized crime… but politically he’s a novice.” Julian held out his hand. “So, maybe stick around a little longer? I know McHenry’s got some karma coming.”
I smiled and shook Julian’s hand. “Sure I can’t convince you to come back to the Club. I may or may not be
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