Senate, with his trim body and boyish face, came off naive, even goofy. Let’s face it, Frank thought, his client looked like an idiot.

 

VOICE-OVER ANNOUNCER:

Question. Of these five places—New York, Washington, L.A., Fort Worth, or the entire state of Virginia—where has Texas millionaire and son of an oil tycoon now turned senatorial candidate Mel Merdock NOT lived in the last ten years? If you guessed Virginia, you’re right! Millionaire Mel Merdock has never lived, voted, or paid taxes in Virginia, and only moved here from Fort Worth to run for office. Does it make sense for Virginia to elect someone who hasn’t lived here? Of course not. We need a senator who will fight for us—NOT millionaire Mel Merdock. Virginia’s Lou Kay. He’s a working guy. He’s one of us!

 

Frank hit the pause button, staring at the image as his mind chewed over what he had just seen.

“We’re dead,” he muttered finally.

Everyone in the office was packed into the media room, poised for his reaction. He could feel Woody, his partner since law school, scowling at him from the doorway through a pair of thick, wire-rimmed glasses. Linda, new to the firm four years ago, sat at the table in back, holding in a smile with a pen between her lips. His assistant Tracy and the two interns rented from Georgetown, Harry and Tom, were huddled up front, wanting to learn something, waiting for orders as Frank thought about what to do.

Frank knew for a fact that everything in Lou Kay’s ad was true. Mel Merdock was the son of a rich man. Texas oil money. He probably hadn’t gotten a job on his own merits his whole life. Merdock was also a carpetbagger: his only connection with the state of Virginia being that he wanted to fill the open seat. Because they were three weeks from election day, people watching their televisions were beginning to focus on the race. Lou Kay’s negative ad would do damage. The spot’s message would cut through.

Linda crossed her legs and gently cleared her throat. “It’s not like you weren’t expecting it.”

“We’re dead,” Frank repeated. “How many times did they use the word millionaire?”

She gave him a look, flashing that smile again. “I counted three.”

Linda was in her early thirties and had natural blond hair cut just below the shoulders. Her face was refined, striking. Her green eyes, steady and clear, especially when in the company of men, working or otherwise Frank had noticed, where her ease and confidence seemed contagious. Dressed in a business suit made of fine European tweed, the expensive cloth fit the contours of her slender body like a glove. Her skirt was cut well above the knee. Her tight-fitting jacket designed to be worn without a blouse or jewelry. She looked fabulous.

“You’re on the wrong side,” Woody said. “Merdock’s everything they say he is only a hundred times worse and you know it, Frank.”

Frank jerked his head toward the door. “Stewart Brown is doing Lou Kay’s campaign. If I don’t hit back, we’ll lose.”

Frank turned to Tracy.