The Candidate (Romantic Suspense) (The Candidate Series) by Josie Brown Page B

corralled some eager audience members for the Q&A lineup. Which twin was holding the mike? Not that it mattered. At that very moment, all that counted was the adoration for Andy in the participants’ eyes. 
    The first one up, a bookstore employee named Cindy, was so awed and nervous that Ben winced as she wrangled with the squirming baby in her arms. “I work a full-time job, my husband works two. Still we can’t make ends meet! And none of our jobs offer healthcare for ‘part-time’ employees. Not to mention that the cost of food and gas just keeps going up! When do we become the priority of our government?”
    A chorus of “Ahhhh” echoed through the theater as Andy took the child from its mother and rocked it on his shoulder. “Even in Kitty Hawk, the small town where I grew up, we knew our neighbors, and as a community we recognized that we were only as strong as those who were most in need. Of course back then we had a middle class. Today we have the haves and the have-nots. And yet, we can’t afford to ignore the needs of the many for the financial gains of the few. Cindy, that’s not my North Carolina. And that’s not my America. Nor is it yours.” 
    Still cradling her child, Andy put an arm around Cindy. Through his earpiece, Ben heard Eddie shout “Fucking A! That’s the money shot...” In his mind’s eye, Ben could see the TV ad already. Andy’s closing comments made it all that much better: 
    “Together we can change that, and restore the American dream—where every hardworking individual has the opportunity to achieve, to see their children’s dreams succeed. So the short answer to your question as to when you become your government’s priority: It’s my first day in the Oval Office.”
    As one, the crowd jumped to its feet, but this time it stayed there, stomping and chanting “An- dy ! An- dy ! An- dy ...”
    Ben, too, chanted along with the crowd. Andy didn’t just woo potential voters. He inspired them. And he never sidestepped a hot issue with a pat answer. Instead he gave them the unvarnished truth, backed up by statistics that flowed easily off the tip of his tongue. 
    Best yet, he did it standing side-by-side with them, looking them in the eye, letting them know that he was accessible. That he was one of them.
    For the first time in over a decade, Ben actually liked one of his candidates. 

Chapter 12
     
    The feeling was mutual. Ben found that out when they landed back in Washington and Andy asked if he’d join him for a late night drink at his favorite dive bar, a pool hall called Bedrock Billiards, to meet the men he called  “my brothers, the only guys I can trust.” 
    The group was small but choice. Besides Paul Twist, who had already shed his very expensive Savile Row suit jacket and loosened his Armani tie, its only other member was a man Andy introduced as Fred Hanover. 
    “Fred and I served together in the Marine Corps,” Andy explained. “We met during a six-month deployment to Iwakuni. I was his section leader. Now Fred is at Langley.” 
    Bulky and slack-jawed, Fred could easily have passed as one of the dozen or so old school frat boys slouched over the pool hall’s vintage bright cherry leather barstools, watching the Capitols getting out-skated by the Hurricanes. Except for one thing: his eyes scanned the pool hall constantly, roaming over faces, taking in every random move. No doubt he had watched Ben as he got his bearings in the crowded, darkly lit room and maneuvered over to them. 
    Ben immediately recognized Fred from the Washingtonian article on the Mansfields’ wedding: he was the redheaded groomsman who had stood beside Maddy. 
    So now he’s CIA, thought Ben. 
    After crunching Ben’s hand in his massive fist, Fred busied himself with racking balls for a game of Eight-Ball. In the meantime Paul signaled the waitress for a round of beers. 
    She was adorable, a Kewpie doll with strawberry curls and a chest that filled out her tight black