Chapter Four

 

Adam Quinn takes his coffee black. He's avoided sugar. It's one of the things to which he attributes his health. There's something to be said for the amount of time in the day that you have when you barely sleep, but it's hell on your constitution.

In spite of that, he's been going hard and strong for years. No sick days. No days that he's considered it.

Politicians have to be careful about what they do with their recreation time. They can't afford to get caught by the wrong people with a nose full of coke, or a heroin needle in their arms.

Of course, for the sort of person who needs to run for President, needs to run for Senate, needs to make a career out of being loved by people… that sort of constant threat is exactly what they want. They can't get enough of it. They need to be taking risks all the time.

When you're in business, risk is something that's very important. Something to be managed carefully. You don't want to take too much. If you bet everything on a turn of the die, you're a fool.

But if you don't take enough risk… then you don't grow. You might as well be gambling your entire business on the other guys all blowing themselves up. Which they might do, but it's not a winning bet.

Now, the twist comes in. Because you have to take the right risks. It's not okay to say, well, I'll just hedge my bets in business, but I'll play it risky by also driving NASCAR. That's risky, right?

Well, sure. But it's a risk that doesn't pay off.

Drugs are a risk that doesn't pay off. Alcohol isn't even a risk. It's got no payoff at all, never mind one that equalizes the value. Sugar… well, sugar's a fair question. A man might choose to consume sugar and he wouldn't be wrong in doing so.

Call it a little risk. And it's paying off. Stay healthy, and then when your country needs someone to come in and introduce a little healthy risk, you're strong enough to do the job and you don't have a nasty coke habit to kick.

Or a nasty Coke habit, for that matter, so you don't have to explain why it's totally fine that someone with a sixty-inch waist should be president. It keeps you out of the hospital, and that in turn keeps the papers from speculating that you might be dying any day now.

God only knows, celebrity magazines already had enough ammunition to throw at him, he didn't need to be giving them more.

The lights in the office flick on, and for the first time it occurs to Quinn that the lights were off. He'd been working on a computer, and the lights hadn't been needed, so he hadn't even considered it.

"Oh," a woman's voice says from the door. "Good morning, Mr. Quinn. I didn't realize you were in here."

"Linda. How are you feeling? You handling everything okay?"

She smiles faintly. I like that smile. She's able to very effectively skirt the hard-ass look that most women in the political arena develop. Too many people at the high level of politics, men and women, look like they're hoping for a chance to stick their foot up your ass and break it off.

"I'm feeling fine. You've really taken over the media since the announcement."

She clicks a remote, and a television on the wall turns from black to gray. A moment later, CNN starts playing. The morning show is going over the same things that they were talking about all yesterday, only now they're doing it with light-hearted banter.

"So, about this announcement from Adam Quinn, what? Is this a joke? Or something?" The host laughs. "I just. I'm really surprised. He's never seemed—"

His co-host pipes in. She's an attractive young woman. "No, I guess he hasn't. But if someone's going to do it—I mean, he's already done everything else, hasn't he? He must have been thinking, 'well, I might as well,' right?"

The chatter isn't adding to anything.

"Is that a problem for you, Miss Owens?"

"It's a lot to take in, but I don't think it's a problem, no."

"I knew you could handle it, or I wouldn't have hired you. Even if you didn't know it yourself. I never doubted for a second."

She can't keep the smile off her face well enough to hide it from him.

"I don't want you blind-sided by this, Miss Owens, but I made a few calls last night, and I made a bargain with Ellen Holden."

"Okay."

"I said I'd be on her show next Thursday. Exclusive. I figure that's the first time we give a serious sit-down interview, and then we back off for a while. That sound alright?"

It had better, because the deal was already made, and Adam Quinn was no liar. The accusation wouldn't stick. He'd never been a liar before this, why would he suddenly start to be one now? The answer is obvious enough on the face of it—he wouldn't—but you maintain a reputation by doing it, not by relying on the reputation while you lie your ass off.

"We can make that work."

"Good girl. Now, I need something else. Maybe talk to some of the others about this. I've got a guy coming in, you'll be working alongside him. Think of you as my shield, and him as my sword."

"A guy?"

"I don't know if you've heard his name before. You might not have, you haven't been in Washington too long."

"Okay," she says. Quinn doesn't know if she thinks he's condescending to her. He very well may be.

"I also got in touch with Tom Delaney, and he'll be joining the campaign."

She looks down for a moment, and then nods. "Of course, sir."

"I need you two to sit down, and I need you to figure out how much of a mess you can make in the next eight days. Ellen's got to have plenty to discuss if we're going to make the splash I know we're all hoping for."

She nods. "Yes, sir."

Adam smiles. Now, back to work. He's got a business to run. Then a Presidential campaign for dessert.