of java. But she doesn’t return.
Five minutes go by, no Jessica.
Ten minutes, no Jessica. Now I’m starting to worry about what’s going on behind that door between the probable next president and a seriously hot babe young enough to be his daughter. Sure, he’s single and entitled to have a relationship, but this doesn’t look good.
Twenty minutes later she comes out.
My eyes widen as I watch her move to the front of the plane, smooth her dress, grab her purse from a shelf and touch up her lipstick.
The Senator then emerges from the back room, buttoning his shirt and tying his necktie as he heads for his seat at the front of the plane.
No one says a word or even gives this a second look.
And now I’m wondering what’s really true about the guy I’m now working for.
Is Will Becker simply a product?
And is the race over before Ripley and I have even left the starting gate?
***
As I have lunch with advance man Andrew Shelton, I’m beginning to see a pattern.
This campaign, with the exception of Frank Delavan, is loaded with seriously cute guys.
And after what I saw on the airplane with our flight attendant, Becker may be off the table, so I may as well lay the groundwork for Plan B.
Andrew is probably in his early forties, maybe six-two and built like a male model. Broad shoulders, slim hips, and a chambray shirt which is no doubt covering a ripped torso. A pair of jeans has never looked better. He’s obviously dressed down for the locals, but I know he could seriously do justice to a tuxedo. Thick sandy hair and deep-set pale blue eyes give him a bit of a beach boy look, while huge dimples come into play when he smiles.
Which he does as he gives the waitress a soulful look with those eyes. He gives his order with a deep voice smooth as silk. She turns while staring at him and walks right into a table. Her face flushes as she scurries back to the kitchen.
“You’re a natural flirt, you know that?” I say.
He shrugs and furrows his brow. “What did I do?”
“Oh, nothing, you just make a patty melt sound like phone sex. If the waitress was named Patty, she’d melt.”
“Well, Frank was certainly spot on about you.”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “What did I do?”
“You’re not shy about saying anything, even to people you just met.”
“Part of my charm. That’s why you guys hired me. I basically have no filter. Although, as you’re aware, the lack of said filter got me fired from the network.”
“Well, we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen here. Anyway, in regard to your phone sex comment, I used to do commercial voice-overs before I got into politics. I was blessed with a good voice, which will come in handy when I’m too old to do anything else.”
“Hey, I know how you can lock up the election. Call up registered female voters and ask, What are you wearing?”
He leans back and laughs. “Twitter Girl, you are something else. I’ve run into some characters in politics, but you are definitely one of a kind.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Andrew. So, how does one become an advance man?”
“I was working in the Senator’s office and a few times he was late for a few events so I had to basically keep the crowd warm.”
I’m sure he could keep any girl warm…
“Anyway,” he continues, “Becker thought I’d be good at getting the locals primed before his arrival because I’m from a small town and can relate to Joe and Mabel Sixpack. He calls me the redneck whisperer.”
“Cute. Though you sure don’t look like one.”
“Well, for whatever reason, people open up to me. I grew up on a farm with a lot of blue collar folks. A lot of advance men show up in thousand dollar suits, and that screams New York carpetbagger. I try to blend in and get a sense of the mood so I can brief him before he gets here. I spend a lot of time in coffee shops and diners.”
“Interesting. So you’ll always be one day ahead of me?”
“Yep. Soon as we’re through with lunch I’m off to Cedar Rapids. So I’ll always have a little time to brief you when you arrive, but we’ll always be sleeping in different towns.”
So much for Plan B…
“Does that make you feel detached from the campaign?”
“In some ways, yes, but I do get back to the New York headquarters quite often, since I live in Manhattan.”
What the hell, take a shot. “So at some point when we’re both in town we might actually have dinner instead of lunch.”
“Or… breakfast.”
Talk about not being shy about saying anything to someone you just met. His last words are followed by a smile that makes my heart flutter. Until he follows it up with…
“I love having meetings over a good power breakfast. I get a lot of ideas late at night and need to get them out of my head right away. And I know every great pancake and Belgian waffle place in the city. The way to my heart is covered with pure maple syrup.”
Oh.
My phone chimes. “Excuse me,” I say, as I pull it from my purse and see it’s a text message from Ripley.
Not fair. You’re getting a head start on Becker.
I quickly tap the keys and write back.
Don’t worry, the runner-ups are spectacular.
I slide the phone back into my purse. “You getting all snarky already?” he asks.
“No. Quick note to my best friend. She, uh, wanted to make sure I’m keeping warm out here.”
“Stick with me, I’ll keep you warm.” Another sly smile.
Aha.
“I grew up in Minnesota, so I know everything you need to know about dealing with seriously cold weather.” He cocks his head at my coat. “You need something like a down coat from Eddie Bauer. It’ll make you toasty even when it’s twenty below. The one you’ve got isn’t gonna make it.”
Oh, again.
***
Frank and I are in a small room just off the auditorium stage, seated at a table in front of a monitor as the Iowa debate is about to begin. He has a yellow legal pad in front of him along with a laptop while I have fingers
