The iCongressman by Mikael Carlson Page B

lawyers
would make me an expert in deflection, but apparently I can’t pull that
particular Jedi mind trick on my own father.
    “We’re looking for some space to run the campaign out of
this year,” I reply, too tired and emotionally drained to add my belief that
the idea is a stupid one.
    “You’re not gonna use the Buzz
again? It worked for you last time.”
    No kidding. That was the exact point I made, but was
overruled. Again. Mister Bennit has spent the last
year trying to shed some of the aspects of the maverick image that got him
elected in the first place, and the quaintness of running the campaign out of a
coffee shop was sacrificed to help reach that goal. As has been the case many
other times this year, my opinion was ignored. One more instance of the
congressman and I not heading in the same direction.
    “The congressman doesn’t think …” I trail off and Dad
flashes a parental look of concern. He probably already knows, but I don’t want
to let on how bad I’m struggling right now. I am having a hard enough time
keeping it together without Dad getting all gooey, or worse, combative. He is a
hard-nosed former Marine, and they have a tendency to do that.
    “Are ya okay, Snuggle Bear?”
    “I’m fine, Dad. Just really tired. It’s been a long day.” He nods in understanding, but I know that it will do
little to end this conversation.
    “Can I ask one more question without you getting pissed at
me?” I’d rather he didn’t.
    “Sure,” I say in the most upbeat tone I can muster.
    “He’s becoming one of them, isn’t he?”

 

-SIXTEEN-

 
    MICHAEL

 
    “Good luck in your meeting. Everything is all set from
our end,” Chelsea says as I put on my suit jacket.
    “He knows where to get seated?”
    “All taken care of. He’ll be in
place five minutes after your appointment arrives to avoid suspicion. He’s even
bringing a date, if you can believe that. I think it’s the girlfriend he says
he has.”
      “Perfect. Thanks, and
don’t work too late,” I warn, heading out of my district office to what I’m
sure will be a very interesting dinner. Chelsea thinks this is a terrible idea,
and she’s probably right. No big deal if I’m wrong, but if I’m not, I’m toast
should things go awry.
    Our headquarters is located on Main Street in Danbury, a
diverse city of over eighty thousand people in the far western part of the area
I represent. Millfield is about a forty-minute drive away, assuming the traffic
is cooperating. Under normal circumstances, that’s where I would be heading
after a long day of meeting with people and listening to their problems and
opinions on issues. Tonight’s meeting, however, is definitely not normal.
    I have been ignored by the D.C. lobby since the day I took
my seat in Congress. The men and women who make their living currying favor to
politicians in the Beltway see no real point in showering me with money,
attention, or favor. I am that irrelevant in the U.S. House of Representatives.
    A few days ago, while I was getting reacquainted with my
former students in the park, a lobbyist contacted my staff to set a dinner
meeting with me to discuss how we may help each other on issues of concern to
his clients. If that wasn’t weird enough, he was adamant that it be hosted here
in my home district. Needless to say, I’m very curious to know what this is
about.
    There are great restaurants all around Danbury, but most of
my favorites are on Mill Plain Road near the New York State line. American fare
at Four Square and Market Place, Japanese at Bambu ,
and Italian at Spasi are among the limitless choices
in that area. I thought about having this meeting at either the eclectic Rosy
Tomorrow’s or Irish-themed Molly Darcy’s, but decided neither was quite right
for a meeting with a lobbyist. Vera’s Trattoria is my
favorite pizza place, but I had that yesterday. Max 40 and Della Francesca
would both have worked, but I like to keep those reserved for dates