Malcolmson’s haggard face appeared to brighten up when he laid his eyes on Suzy. “Ms. Randolph!” he exclaimed. “So good to see you.”
“You as well, Harold,” Suzy said.
And it was.
“I instructed my office to give you a call,” he said. “Were,” and he stretched out the word the way he was wont to do when posing a question, “they able to reach you yet.”
Harold Malcolmson was a nice man who’d spent over thirty years getting along with everyone in Congress. He could always be counted on whenever the Democrats were bringing a bill to the floor for a vote, but the Republicans often sung his praises about how reasonable he was when they reached across the aisle looking for support.
“You know, they haven’t, but my phone was ringing as I was heading over here to take this meeting,” Suzy replied.
With a record as immaculate as his when it came to playing well with others, and holding one of the longest active tenures, Malcolmson should have been a superstar on the Hill.
The operate phrase being ‘should have.’
“Ah, well, that’s understandable,” he said with a shrug.
The truth was, although he was always reliable to help the home team on a hotly contested bill, and even put aside differences for the good of the country, he rarely, if ever, proposed anything himself. He seemed content, just to spectate from the seats while other, more ambitious legislators, took central stage (and credit) for laws that might not have been passed without his help.
“But I do hope we’ll be able to sit down in the coming days. I had them call because there’s something I’m trying to pursue and I’d like all the help I can get.”
Oh, Harold, she thought as she smiled politely.
There was only one thing urgent enough that he’d want to discuss before the end of the week, and it was the same thing she was after. A coup for power.
You’ve relegated yourself to the sidelines for far too long old man. It’s the reason why you’d never be able to run for President. Your chummy history is your greatest flaw. All your opponents will harp about the little you’ve done in your time here. The Republicans will paint you as a leech on the American taxpayer.
“MALCOLMSON!” an enraged voice called from the belly of the office he’d just emerged from.
Malcolmson jumped, and nearly yelped. Suzy crunched her face to maintain her polite smile.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? GET OUT, AND DON’T COME BACK UNTIL YOU’VE GOT IT DONE!”
This was all the proof she needed not to join whatever crusade Malcolmson wanted to embark on. All these decades in Congress, and he was everyone’s pal, but only after he delivered what they wanted. Until then, he was the legislative branch’s whipping boy.
He’d been re-elected forever, and in all likelihood, his friends in Congress would continue to campaign for him for every re-election until he finally chose to retire. But his legacy would be irrelevant, and all that time he spent in office would turn out to be an absolute waste. The last thing Suzy wanted to become was another Harold Malcolmson.