“I don’t know. We have a man from the VA who is helping us, but the life insurance folks already said that his drug overdose meant that they wouldn’t pay out.”
Max shook his head. “Tina, I can help. Let me look into a few things.”
She looked up at him, alarmed. “Oh, Max, listen, I didn’t mean — I know you guys are well off and all but… look, we aren’t looking for a handout, okay? I just was telling you because—”
Max gestured for her to stop. “Please. I know you didn’t mean it like that. But let me see if there isn’t something we can do to help you guys out. Do you have any immediate needs? Are you okay on money right now?”
She nodded, her lip quivering. Another tear ran down her cheek. “Thanks,” was all she managed to say as she hugged him.
Chapter 7
Senator Herbert J. Becker of the great state of Wisconsin stared into the center of the camera lens, doing his best to imagine that it was the single representation of each and every one of his most precious voters. He had practiced his “stern-but-approachable” look in front of countless mirrors. It assured his constituents that he was the kind of man who would stick up for them in a fight but at the same time shared their family values.
“And let me just say this. Solving this country’s growing heroin epidemic is my number one priority. That’s why I cosponsored the Opioid Epidemic Act. We’ll be bringing it to the floor in a matter of weeks. I believe that will have a tremendous impact on reducing opioid use within the United States.”
The reporter — a slick-haired kid who was a little too cavalier for the senator’s taste — followed up with, “Well, I’m glad you brought that up, Senator. Many in your party were surprised that you cowrote that bill and helped gather so much support for it. It’s a piece of bipartisan legislation that many in your party don’t like. Some are calling it antibusiness. Even some on the other side of the aisle are saying it will deny access to medicine to those in need. What do you say to that?”
“I would say that this country has been hurting for a long time, and I’m proud of my efforts to combat the opioid epidemic. Businesses will not be hurt by this bill, as they will end up providing consumers with better health care, without the risks of today’s surplus of addictive pain medication.”
“What about the people who need that pain medication? Many patients need opioids to perform their day-to-day tasks. You’re going to deny them that choice? Deny the doctors the ability to prescribe it and the health care manufacturers the ability to sell it?”
“My bill — excuse me, the Opioid Epidemic Act — doesn’t completely eliminate opioids as an option. Yes, it will greatly reduce how many pills are sold and used. But in the long run, it will make our country healthier and more vibrant. Now I thank you for your time, but I’m afraid I have to—”
“Senator Becker, one more thing before you go — some are speculating that you have ambitions for a presidential run in two years. Is that true? Are you going to run for president, Senator?”
The balding politician smiled demurely. “Right now, I’m just focused on doing what’s right for the good people of Wisconsin. And as far as elections go, it’s this year’s midterms that I’m thinking about. I’m up for reelection in my own state. I’ve honestly given no thought to any political decisions that may lay beyond that point.”
Of course it’s true, you little prick, but you know I’m not going to say it here on your low-rated cable news show this far out into the future.
The kid tried one more time, probably listening to his producer humming in his earpiece. “Is there any chance you would consider a presidential run in two years, sir?”
Becker would have to tell Ron not to book him with this guy anymore. “Well, I never like to close a door fully — but I mean what I said. My focus is on the people I represent in the great state of Wisconsin and making sure that we combat the horrific threat of illegal drugs poisoning our nation.”
“Thank you for your time, Senator Becker.”
“Thank you.”
A group of reporters stood waiting for him to finish the interview. One of them stuck a recording device up as Senator Becker walked away from the camera.
“Senator, a few questions please.”
Ron Dicks, his chief of staff, said, “The senator won’t be taking any more questions right now, thanks.”
The senator walked away from the scrum of reporters, his entourage of aids in tow. “What’s next, Ron?”
Ron scanned his notepad as they walked, their footsteps echoing in the capital building hallway.
“Sir, you have a hard stop this morning for the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing at ten thirty. Prior to that, you’ve got a strategy session in your office with Sarah.” His chief of staff rattled off several other appointments throughout the day, finishing with, “Oh, and your daughter called, sir.”
“Karen called?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about?”
“She didn’t say.”
They took the underground subway from the Capitol Building to the Hart Senate Office Building and then made their way to his office. His secretary, a matronly no-nonsense woman of about fifty, handed him a list of calls as he walked in.
The senator sat down behind his desk. “Give me five minutes,” he announced to his staff.
“Of course, Senator.” Ron stayed in the room, knowing that the senator needed time, not privacy, which he’d given up decades earlier.
Senator Becker held the landline phone to his ear, dialing the number from memory. When he was president, he wouldn’t dial anymore, he thought. Only a few years away, if he played his cards right.
Aides floated in and out of the office, placing folders in the senator’s inbox and removing them from his outbox. Some whispered into Ron’s ear as the chief of staff waited for the senator to finish his personal call. The secretary came in and placed a china set on the senator’s desk — coffee and tea biscuits with raisins.
Karen answered on the second ring. “Hello, Dad.”
“Karen. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I got it, Dad. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
Senator Becker frowned, sitting down in the chair at his desk. “What did you get, dear?”
“The Oshkosh spot. They had a dropout and chose me at the last minute. I’ll have two performances. You’ll be there, right?”
“You’re performing at Oshkosh? Why, that’s wonderful news. When is your show?”
“Two performances. One earlier in the week, and one at the end.”
“And you’ll dress… conservatively?”
She let out a sigh of exasperation. “Dad… relax.”
Senator Becker flushed, thinking of the outfits his daughter wore when she performed. He was proud that she had reached such a high level in the aerobatics community, being invited to the top air shows in the world. But my God, did she have to flaunt her buxom figure on all those advertisements?
“Let’s just make sure that any publicity you get paints you in a good light. I would hate to think that—”
“Don’t worry, Senator. I understand. I won’t do or say anything crazy. Well, not too crazy.” She laughed, and Becker saw his eavesdropping chief of staff close his eyes, a pained expression on his face. A few years ago, Ron had had to pay a private investigator twenty-five hundred dollars to destroy a set of files from one of Karen’s old boyfriends. The ex-boyfriend had thought he was selling compromising pictures to a tabloid. He was made to turn over all of the files and sign a nondisclosure agreement. Then the PI had scared the hell out of him with what would happen if he violated the agreement. The files had been deleted, but it would have horrified Karen had they gotten out. More importantly, it would have embarrassed the good senator, and probably cost him ten points with suburban moms ages thirty-five through fifty-four.