The Plan

Chapter 44.

VICE PRESIDENT JAMES "PUDGE" ANDERSON WATCHED the returns from the vice presidential residence at the naval observatory on Massachusetts Avenue. He had just finished his own southern swing through the Super Tuesda y s tates, but had decided to go back to Washington an d w atch the returns from there. The Republican primary wa s n ot much of a contest. He had no real opposition. He ha d t he party backing and the influence of the sitting President, Charles "King" Cotton. What annoyed him was the networks' profuse enthusiasm for Haze Richards, especiall y f rom this new black anchor, Dale Hellinger, at UBC.

Pudge had called his own campaign manager, Carl "Henny" Henderson.

"You watching this, Henny?" Pudge asked.

"Y' mean the Haze Richards runaway railroad?"

"Yeah. This guy was cooking lobsters last month and now he's gonna make America work again for all of us."

"Don't let it get to ya, Pudge. This is their night. We're not a story 'cause you're running more or less unopposed. The good news is Skatina is gonna drop out I just got off the phone with his guys. They were told by their backers they hadda win tonight or the money was gonna dry up.

So he's out. I'd rather run against Haze than Skatina any day, 'specially since Skatina is from your state, New York, and he could split us there. Let these guys soak in the glory tonight and tomorrow we're gonna start the bimborama."

"I don't like doing that, Henny. We oughta be able to win on our record, on our ideas." Pudge was a rare breed of politician who always kept his sense of honor elevated a notch or two above his need to win. The big problem was that James Anderson was colorless. His own staff joked that Pudge was so nondescript he could lose a tail in an elevator. But, even so, his life had been a steady climb to power.

He had been fascinated by politics since he was a child. His father had been a three-term United States senator. Pudge had gone to Ivy League colleges and had fought in the Korean War, starting in Seoul as a green lieutenant and ending up as a battle-hardened company commander. He won two Purple Hearts and a Silver Star, but after being wounded, he refused to let them send him home, choosing to recover in Seoul and remain with his unit until his hitch was up. That story defined him. Pudge had been his nickname since grade school. He was no longer a plump sixth-grader, but the name still somehow stuck.

Pudge had risen slowly in the party, but eventually people became dependent on him, finally realizing what a steady force the dedicated young man was, and he was elected to Congress.

Four years ago, Charles "King" Cotton asked him to join the Republican ticket. King didn't need a colorful vice president; he had enough color for a Florida sunset. What he needed was regional balance, and the New York congressman got the nod. Then halfway through his first term, King Cotton had developed prostate cancer. Pudge knew that the charismatic, white-haired President was dying. That was how the fattest kid in the sixth grade came to be running, unopposed, on the Republican ballot for the presidency of the United States.

"I don't want to start a bimbo attack," Pudge repeated to Henny Henderson.

"You say that now, but we gotta throw some dynamite, Pudge. I don't think Haze is much to worry about, but we gotta unwind some of this precious bullshit. 'Make America work again,' and then he rides into town like Clark Kent and gets lucky with the Teamsters in your home state. That sets him up for voters. They think he can perform in a crisis, but this guy has a pretty damn good performance record in a bedroom, too."

"Let's get him on his voting record."

"There's nothing to look at. You gotta let me do my thing, Pudge."

"We'll talk in the morning," Pudge said, hanging up and switching around to the various networks, ending on UBC.

"We're going to call the Republican primaries for Vice President Anderson in all twenty states, as expected," Dale Hellinger announced. "But the big news, the roller-coaster ride here at campaign central, is the overwhelming night that Haze Richards has had for the Democrats. We might even call it a history-making event, a landslide Democratic primary victory for Haze Richards in all twenty states with margins that are absolutely stunning."

Pudge wanted to keep from toting out the bimbos that Henny had found. But by ten o'clock, as state after state set record Democratic wins for Governor Richards, he wondered if bimbos might end up being his last line of defense.

Anita Richards felt deserted and lied to. AJ. had told her Haze couldn't win. She took a long gulp of vodka out of the cut crystal glass. She had stopped putting in ice two hours ago, and now, as she swallowed it, she sloshed some of the clear liquid on her pink robe. She looked down at her painted toenails. The last delicate appendages on Anita Richards, they were attached to plump feet and stocky ankles. Suddenly her toes went in and out of focus.

"Shit," she said out loud, "I'm drunk." Then she closed her eyes and got a bad case of bed spin. She opened her eyes and the room swung like a chandelier in a windstorm.

"Anita is elated," Haze was saying happily on TV. "She and I have worked long and hard for this day. It's her victory as much as mine."

Anita held on to the bed and her sanity with tearful desperation.