Read Online Bagmen (A Victor Carl Novel) by William Lashner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Lashner
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showing up at campaign rallies in the shake-and-kiss line.”
“How do you know about that?”
“No matter what he’s told you about love and the future, he’s simply screwing around with you. Nothing wrong with that, but treat it like what it is, a stupid fling with a stinking politician, and have fun with it. Call him tomorrow, apologize, promise him it won’t happen again, and then wait for him to call you. He will, and soon, too. You’re pretty enough to infect his dreams. But in the meantime, find yourself someone your own age to play with when you’re not with him. Get your life together. Don’t forget what you are.”
“What is that?”
“You’re a Barnard girl.”
“Who the hell are you, really?”
“I’m a nobody and a nothing, a suit who does what he’s told. I’m your friendly neighborhood fixer.”
“You’re actually pretty good at it, Kip. How long have you been doing this?”
“About a day and a half,” I said.
CHAPTER 11
THE CONDOM THIEF
I have a secret to tell you,” said Congressman Peter DeMathis, the great condom thief. He spoke softly, intimately, and leaned forward, as if he were about to bare the dark root of his soul. He was a decade older than me, tall and handsome in his navy-blue suit, fit as a gymnast, the very image of exactly what I wasn’t, a serious man on the rise. “And this is my secret, as embarrassing as it might be: I still believe in America.”
There was a smatter of applause in the dreary hotel reception room from the troop of fine people who had ponied up to drink cheap zinfandel, eat greasy spinach squares, and shake hands as they got their pockets picked.
“They slop this crap right up,” I said softly to Melanie in the back of the room.
“Like pigs in a sty,” she said.
I reached toward a tray of sautéed pork bits being passed around by a waitress and grabbed two little skewers. “You want one?”
“God, no,” said Melanie. “If I ate at every one of the events I’m forced to attend, I’d end up a blimp. But help yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
“I know it’s not popular or cool to believe in America,” continued the Congressman. “I know all the smart, clever folk will tell you that America’s best days are behind it and that we have no choice but to take our place behind the likes of China and India and Singapore.” A round of boos poured from the crowd, as if he were talking about the New York Mets and not a trio of sovereign allies on the other side of the globe. “But I don’t believe any of this, not a bit, because I believe not just in this country but in its people. Because I believe in you.”
“I can’t believe you work for this guy,” I said.
Melanie turned and looked at me. “I don’t work for him, Victor. Why would I ever want to work for a backbencher like DeMathis?”
“I just thought—”
“Don’t think so much, it doesn’t pay. He couldn’t afford me anyway.”
“Then why are you running his errands?”
“I’m not, you are.”
“I see so much energy just in this room, so much raw ability and desire to make a difference,” said the Congressman. “Think now about all the potential boiling across this land, from sea to shining sea.”
“Somehow this speech is making me hungry,” I said. “Is that shrimp over there?”
“Sure, we’ve taken some shots,” continued the Congressman. “But when I look at this great country of ours, and I see its people ready to saddle up and bring this nation back, I know no barrier is too high, no challenge is too daunting, nothing can get in our way—except maybe ourselves. Which is why I’m in the House of Representatives, and why I’m asking for your support as I prepare to run for reelection.”
The applause rose like a wave out of the paying crowd to wash over the Congressman and he rose on tiptoes to greet it. It was a stirring sight as I stirred a prawn in a beaker of cocktail sauce. The shrimp was as bland as the speech. I took
“How do you know about that?”
“No matter what he’s told you about love and the future, he’s simply screwing around with you. Nothing wrong with that, but treat it like what it is, a stupid fling with a stinking politician, and have fun with it. Call him tomorrow, apologize, promise him it won’t happen again, and then wait for him to call you. He will, and soon, too. You’re pretty enough to infect his dreams. But in the meantime, find yourself someone your own age to play with when you’re not with him. Get your life together. Don’t forget what you are.”
“What is that?”
“You’re a Barnard girl.”
“Who the hell are you, really?”
“I’m a nobody and a nothing, a suit who does what he’s told. I’m your friendly neighborhood fixer.”
“You’re actually pretty good at it, Kip. How long have you been doing this?”
“About a day and a half,” I said.
CHAPTER 11
THE CONDOM THIEF
I have a secret to tell you,” said Congressman Peter DeMathis, the great condom thief. He spoke softly, intimately, and leaned forward, as if he were about to bare the dark root of his soul. He was a decade older than me, tall and handsome in his navy-blue suit, fit as a gymnast, the very image of exactly what I wasn’t, a serious man on the rise. “And this is my secret, as embarrassing as it might be: I still believe in America.”
There was a smatter of applause in the dreary hotel reception room from the troop of fine people who had ponied up to drink cheap zinfandel, eat greasy spinach squares, and shake hands as they got their pockets picked.
“They slop this crap right up,” I said softly to Melanie in the back of the room.
“Like pigs in a sty,” she said.
I reached toward a tray of sautéed pork bits being passed around by a waitress and grabbed two little skewers. “You want one?”
“God, no,” said Melanie. “If I ate at every one of the events I’m forced to attend, I’d end up a blimp. But help yourself.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
“I know it’s not popular or cool to believe in America,” continued the Congressman. “I know all the smart, clever folk will tell you that America’s best days are behind it and that we have no choice but to take our place behind the likes of China and India and Singapore.” A round of boos poured from the crowd, as if he were talking about the New York Mets and not a trio of sovereign allies on the other side of the globe. “But I don’t believe any of this, not a bit, because I believe not just in this country but in its people. Because I believe in you.”
“I can’t believe you work for this guy,” I said.
Melanie turned and looked at me. “I don’t work for him, Victor. Why would I ever want to work for a backbencher like DeMathis?”
“I just thought—”
“Don’t think so much, it doesn’t pay. He couldn’t afford me anyway.”
“Then why are you running his errands?”
“I’m not, you are.”
“I see so much energy just in this room, so much raw ability and desire to make a difference,” said the Congressman. “Think now about all the potential boiling across this land, from sea to shining sea.”
“Somehow this speech is making me hungry,” I said. “Is that shrimp over there?”
“Sure, we’ve taken some shots,” continued the Congressman. “But when I look at this great country of ours, and I see its people ready to saddle up and bring this nation back, I know no barrier is too high, no challenge is too daunting, nothing can get in our way—except maybe ourselves. Which is why I’m in the House of Representatives, and why I’m asking for your support as I prepare to run for reelection.”
The applause rose like a wave out of the paying crowd to wash over the Congressman and he rose on tiptoes to greet it. It was a stirring sight as I stirred a prawn in a beaker of cocktail sauce. The shrimp was as bland as the speech. I took
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