Domestic Affairs (20 page)

“You
can
do this, Olivia. It's going to be harder and bigger than anything you've done before and I'm going to push you more than you think I should sometimes. But it's because I know you can do this. You know, when I played football in college, there were a bunch of different trainers and everyone avoided this one guy, Barry. Barry always put twenty more pounds of weight on you than you could handle. He was tough and he made you feel like you were at the bottom of a ditch. But he was always my favorite. It's the guy who adds twenty pounds to your bar who really believes in you, who pushes you to be not the best you think you can be, but to be even better. That's who you want setting your goals.”

Olivia exhaled, a bit speechless, as he continued on. Her inappropriate thoughts seemed to slip away. This was Landon Taylor—the governor she'd studied, the politician she idolized. And he believed in her.
Not because he thought she was pretty or because he liked her smile. Because he knew she could do the job.

“That's who I'm going to be for you. I'm going to add the weight, but only because I know you can handle it. I see something special in you. I'll be there spotting you. But you're not going to need me.”

“I won't let you down,” she pledged, as if she were joining the army.

“I know you won't.” His words carried a sweet confidence. “What I do need though is for you to tell me if we're not on track. I need to know you are on the numbers, that you're keeping us on track to get to where we need to be. I need to trust you to be the person who will give it to me straight. It's an unfortunate truth, but money is the gas of this campaign. We need good parts and a good body, sure, but without gas we won't go.”

“Okay.” Olivia spoke with apprehension. For the first time since the Hamptons she was concerned only with the job at hand.

“And hear me when I say this, please.” His “please” sounded like more of an order than a nicety. “I can change the budget early in the game, but I can't change it last-minute, so if we're not hitting our numbers, you have to tell me as early as possible.”

“Okay.” She was responsible for the numbers. She would have other superiors, but at the end of the day, she was reporting to Governor Taylor.

“We're going to do a finance committee meeting soon, right?”

“Yes, sir. Two weeks from tomorrow.”

“Two weeks? That's soon.”

Way too soon
, Olivia wanted to scream. She had begged Jacob for more time to get herself organized, but he had put it in motion before she filled out her W-9 and refused to change it.
It. A national finance committee meeting.
Most campaigns did two, maybe three, of these in an entire election cycle. They were gatherings set up to woo and motivate the most important donors. For the Taylor campaign, it would be a day in Georgia, complete with a full briefing on the campaign budget, run by Olivia. There would be presentations by Billy and Jacob, as well as their pollster, Richard. Aubrey would be organizing a lunch at one of the Habitat sites.

Terrible reasoning
, Olivia had told Jacob when he explained that they
had to have a finance committee meeting early because the ball was already rolling. Still, she couldn't argue too hard about the schedule before she even had a desk. She had planned to bring it up with him again this very day but then had gotten sidetracked with the goal change.

“Yes, it is.” She spoke without a hint of the concern she felt. “But Jacob and I talked in depth about it. We already have good people confirmed to attend, and I'll be on the phones to get everyone else we need there. We need to hit the ground running anyway, and it gives me a good excuse to introduce myself to people and get to know the group. I always like an extra reason to call and harass people.”

She regurgitated all the reasons Jacob had given her when she had argued against the time crunch. As she spoke, she found herself becoming more and more committed to making it work.

“Yeah,” the governor said in agreement. “That sounds smart.” He left an awkward silence on the phone. She tried to think of something intelligent to say, but he continued on. “You'll be ready?”

“I'll be ready.” By the time they hung up the phone, Olivia had taken full responsibility for the meeting in her own mind. She could do this. It didn't matter that she had never done anything so big before. Nor did it matter that she wasn't sure how to do it. She was never the smartest kid in the class, never the most talented on the soccer field, but she could always come out on top. Sure, she wasn't the very best at anything, but she could work hard enough at anything to be damn good at it. Her talents, as she saw them, weren't innate. They were earned.

“You just set your mind to it.”
She heard her mom's voice in her head. The same voice that encouraged her to try out for soccer in high school even though she had never played in any organized fashion.
“Keep your eye on the ball. With your determination, the sky's the limit.”
The coaches had called Olivia the “Rudy” of the team, letting her join not because she could play (they told her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't very good), but because she had more heart than they'd seen in years. Sure enough, two years later Olivia had made varsity and all-county.
The sky's the limit
, she repeated in her head.
I can do this.

T
he morning of the finance committee meeting, Jacob sprang out of bed at five fifteen a.m. He had never been an early riser, but the hours of sleep he needed seemed to lessen with the campaign's every passing day. He opened his laptop and began reading over the briefing Olivia had sent two days before. He scrolled down the list of expected attendees. All of their major players were coming as well as a handful of people Olivia was bringing into the campaign. He had worked the phones hard getting people committed to attend, all with a lingering feeling that he shouldn't have pushed this meeting on Olivia so soon. The meeting needed to run smoothly. They would all be there—the BSDs, the DFTLs, even a few of the SWs, or Starving Wives, all of whom were starving for something, mostly money and food.

In all aspects of campaigns, but especially with fundraising, Jacob had learned, spin and momentum were the name of the game. Their poll numbers were starting to gel in Iowa and New Hampshire. He knew if he could get the influx of money he needed into Iowa early, they would win the caucus. It had become, to him, as simple as a mathematical equation. The best county captains and enough field organizers, fed sufficiently well and hanging up the right number of signs, would equal a win. He knew the data and the people. His candidate was hitting his stride. Now all he needed was the money to make it happen. If only the rest of his life could be this straightforward.

He scrolled down the pages to Olivia's plan. She was about to tell all their biggest donors that her goal was for them to raise one million dollars by June 30. He shook his head with fear.
She's not going to be able to do that. She's too young. The number is too high. They're not going to take her seriously.
The number was higher than he had even set out in his original budget. One million dollars in five-thousand-dollar checks in two months.
She's insane. Which is a problem since she was my idea. I should've never agreed to the seven.

His head immediately rushed to the worst-case scenario of their coming in under a goal they set out loud to a room full of people. And not just any people, their top donors. Even if they had raised a significant amount, a dollar less than the goal would signal something was wrong and could offset the race's momentum. He was so lost in thought he didn't even notice it was only five forty-five when he dialed Olivia's number. Fortunately she didn't notice either.

She answered with a chipper, “Morning, Jacob.”

He looked at his clock. “Ah! I didn't realize it was so early. Sorry.”

“Totally fine, I haven't been able to sleep a wink. They were kind enough to let me into the hotel restaurant even though it doesn't open until six. They said I had to wait till six for coffee, but maybe they just thought they should slow me down because they saw my knee jittering already!”

“Want company?”

“Yes! I would love to talk this stuff over so I don't make a complete fool of myself today.”

“Be there in twenty.” Jacob hung up the phone and got dressed, feeling better just knowing she was on the same wavelength. And happy to have someone in Georgia who also couldn't sleep. He had been in Georgia for a while but he still hadn't gotten completely used to the relative quiet.

Twenty minutes later Jacob slipped into the chair across from Olivia, who was downing her first coffee of what he predicted would be many. While it wasn't reassuring to see her so nervous, he was glad that at least she was visibly aware of how important today was.

“Thank you so much for coming over,” she said. “I'm so happy to have someone to talk this through with before the meeting.”

“We have to talk? I thought I was just getting a free hotel breakfast.”

Olivia laughed, putting down her coffee for the first time since he walked in. “Right. Breakfast. I'm so hungry.”

“I don't think I've ever heard those words coming out of your mouth.”

“I got in late last night! I didn't have dinner. Plus I think if this campaign doesn't work out, I'm going to try to be a competitive eater.”

Jacob laughed out loud at her serious expression. “Yeah, if there's a category for who could eat the least amount of food over the longest period of time, you would totally crush it.” Jacob looked down at the menu, happy to have other options than the box of probably stale cereal in his apartment.

Olivia started her pitch after they ordered. “Okay, so this is the plan.” As she laid out her ideas, even walking him through the Power-Point on her computer, Jacob started to relax enough to enjoy his waffles, bacon, and grits, a delicacy he was enjoying more with every passing week. Olivia looked up from her notes and watched him shovel in some grits. “Big change from our Sausage McMuffin mornings, huh?”

“Yeah, thank God. Another year with you and your McDonald's habit and I would have been at least double my size.”

“Oh please, we all know you couldn't gain weight if you tried. Isn't that what your wrestling coach used to say?”

“Yeah, yeah. Liv, this is really good.” He pointed to her presentation and tried to sound less surprised than he actually was. She spoke with such authority on the numbers, Jacob bought into it all himself, and he knew he was as cynical—if not more so—than anyone coming into that room.

“The grits? Ew. I am not trying those things.”

“Yes, the grits are good. But, please, I know you better than to try to convince you to eat them. I'm talking about your presentation. It's really good.

“Really?” Her eyes widened with surprise.

“Really. I mean I had no clue how you were going to make one million plausible, and instead, you made it completely doable. Gabrielle
would be totally proud.” Gabrielle, their mutual former boss was their common standard bearer for all things fundraising.

“Well, I'm going to tell them the public goal will be seven hundred and fifty thousand, and one million is their inside goal. That way if anyone leaks, which obviously they will, they'll leak under one, giving me some room to fail.”

“You won't fail,” Jacob said, trying to reassure her.

“But my real goal is one point five.” She smiled.

Jacob laughed at her audacity.

“That's awesome, Liv. You know how many bumper stickers in Iowa I could buy with that?”

“No, but I want to know!”

“Huh?” Jacob smiled, assuming this was sarcasm.

“Wait, no, seriously.” She stopped his laugh. “Can you tell me the numbers on some of those things? Donors will love that.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes!” She squealed with a delight that seemed incongruous with bumper stickers. “Seriously, Jacob, that's brilliant. Give them tangible things to fund. I'm not going to use it for this, but let's do that for online giving.”

“I like it. Liv, really, this is great.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” She stopped and breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I'm so scared someone other than you will realize I have no clue what I'm doing.” She looked down at her untouched breakfast and took the last sip of her second coffee.

“Olivia Greenley.” Jacob looked at her sternly. “You do know what you're doing. You're even better at it than I thought you were. And I thought you were pretty damn good. Now you need a dose of self-confidence to go with it. You know BSDs; these guys see fear a mile away and love to seize on it for sport. Do not let them see even a glimpse of it. You know what I say—calm, contain, control. That should be one of those campaign lessons you're always counting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Olivia shook her head, looking like a scared kid. Jacob wondered if he had gone too far.

“Come on, it'll be totally fine.” He took great comfort in actually believing what he was saying. “Eye of the Gabrielle!” He lowered his
eyebrows the way their old boss used to do when she got serious and hummed “Eye of the Tiger.” Olivia laughed and made the face with him. “Now, let's get some of that competitive eating going.”

Olivia laughed as she took two small bites of her burned bacon, passing her grits over to Jacob.