12-31-2014, 03:25 PM
Within the corner office of a corporate building in downtown Dallas sat a campaign team around a board room table. Equal numbers men and women were present, and all were clean-cut, modest and professional. Pilar, a middle-aged lawyer with chestnut brown hair and lovely Texan tan, was seated to the right of the remaining empty chair. Her counterpart on the other side was a Cory, a 30-something year old campaign manager who earned a name for himself getting a republican governor in the state of California, a state that historically swung bluer than the Pacific Ocean. The remaining members of the team consisted of representatives from big business, including the now defunct Texas Oil, marketing specialists, and constitutional experts.
The door opened and both Pilar and Cory were first to greet the woman that entered. She was a beautiful women, but the severity of her expression gave her otherwise big and bouncy femininity a harsher edge. Her smile did not break that hard facade, but it did warm the room slightly. As well it should, a had cold-spell gripped Dallas lately.
She placed a thumb chip on the table and immediately brought up a screen from which they could all view.
Her voice was pleasant and patient, long Texan drawl quite noticeable to those without the natural accent: such as Cory. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, drinking in the sight of the beautiful Jessika. "As you know, the leading issue on my platform for the Governor's race is the Texas sucession from the United States."
A few nods here and there followed.
"I've read this first draft and well--"
she crossed her arms, "I think a pair of illiterate illegals could have constructed something better."
Her smile tightened like the corners of her mouth might crack, but the porcelain glass of her face did not fracture.
She swiped a hand through the projection, like claws down a chalkboard, and it disappeared from sight. "Do it again, and this time, I want to see a draft devoted to succession, not flirting around with her like a whore on Market street."
She clapped twice and the room bounced into action, most everyone filed out to return to their desks.
Jessika planted her hands on her hips and turned disappointed toward Pilar, "You let me waste my time reading that nonsense? I expected better from you."
The lawyer stood, unafraid of meeting the smaller, although no less frail, Texan that otherwise dominated the room. "Apologies, Jessika. These writers need clear instructions. I think nobody really expects you'll go through with it when elected. They wanted to give a loophole, in case it was necessary."
Jessika's eyes widened, "I don't back down on my word, Pilar. Make sure it's done right this time. I won't waste another 600 pages of reading again."
Pilar nodded and Jessika turned to see a sight for sore eyes. Cory was about the only one that understood her. As though he read her mind, he pat her on the shoulder and lead her toward the window where he offered her an iced tea - sweet as his baby blue eyes. "Either way, it's good practice. When it comes time for the governor's debate, you have to know your own work better than anyone, and trust me, the incumbent's team will have a dozen people ripping your proposal apart, yet only you will be there to defend it."
Jessika was soothed by the tea and Cory's calm presence. She toyed with the collar of Cory's sunshine yellow shirt. "Thank you, sweetie. I don't know what I would do without you."
They held one another's eyes for a moment, until the voice of an assistant interrupted. Jessika looked over.
"A message for you, ma'am. It's from Mexico City."
Jessika glanced at Cory, taken aback. "Who in Mexico City wants to talk to me?"
The door opened and both Pilar and Cory were first to greet the woman that entered. She was a beautiful women, but the severity of her expression gave her otherwise big and bouncy femininity a harsher edge. Her smile did not break that hard facade, but it did warm the room slightly. As well it should, a had cold-spell gripped Dallas lately.
She placed a thumb chip on the table and immediately brought up a screen from which they could all view.
Her voice was pleasant and patient, long Texan drawl quite noticeable to those without the natural accent: such as Cory. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, drinking in the sight of the beautiful Jessika. "As you know, the leading issue on my platform for the Governor's race is the Texas sucession from the United States."
A few nods here and there followed.
"I've read this first draft and well--"
she crossed her arms, "I think a pair of illiterate illegals could have constructed something better."
Her smile tightened like the corners of her mouth might crack, but the porcelain glass of her face did not fracture.
She swiped a hand through the projection, like claws down a chalkboard, and it disappeared from sight. "Do it again, and this time, I want to see a draft devoted to succession, not flirting around with her like a whore on Market street."
She clapped twice and the room bounced into action, most everyone filed out to return to their desks.
Jessika planted her hands on her hips and turned disappointed toward Pilar, "You let me waste my time reading that nonsense? I expected better from you."
The lawyer stood, unafraid of meeting the smaller, although no less frail, Texan that otherwise dominated the room. "Apologies, Jessika. These writers need clear instructions. I think nobody really expects you'll go through with it when elected. They wanted to give a loophole, in case it was necessary."
Jessika's eyes widened, "I don't back down on my word, Pilar. Make sure it's done right this time. I won't waste another 600 pages of reading again."
Pilar nodded and Jessika turned to see a sight for sore eyes. Cory was about the only one that understood her. As though he read her mind, he pat her on the shoulder and lead her toward the window where he offered her an iced tea - sweet as his baby blue eyes. "Either way, it's good practice. When it comes time for the governor's debate, you have to know your own work better than anyone, and trust me, the incumbent's team will have a dozen people ripping your proposal apart, yet only you will be there to defend it."
Jessika was soothed by the tea and Cory's calm presence. She toyed with the collar of Cory's sunshine yellow shirt. "Thank you, sweetie. I don't know what I would do without you."
They held one another's eyes for a moment, until the voice of an assistant interrupted. Jessika looked over.
"A message for you, ma'am. It's from Mexico City."
Jessika glanced at Cory, taken aback. "Who in Mexico City wants to talk to me?"