He’s still not done with the speech, though.
Once the cheering dies down enough he can be heard, he continues. “In the coming weeks, we’ll get more information about my platform posted on the website. I’m a Democrat, yes, but I am anAmericanfirst. I’m not going to twist myself in knots to meet some purity test definition by far-left fringes of my own party.
“I think that, as Americans, we can all agree we need to keep our country safe and take care of our veterans and active-duty military and their families. We can agree our education system needs an overhaul. We can agree that roads and bridges and other infrastructure need improvement. We can agree that there are corporations who aren’t paying their fair share in taxes. These aren’t partisan issues—they’reAmericanissues.
“There will be points we don’t agree on, and that’s okay. Because I would hope that you’ll listen to me to find out where we’re more alike than we are different. I won’t make everyone happy. I won’t even make everyone in my own party happy. But I have a proven track record of getting stuff done in Congress, and as vice president. I hope you’ll let me talk to you about my plans and the direction I’d like the country to continue moving in. Thank you, bless you all for coming out today, and bless this great country of ours!”
More explosive applause and cheers. That last line was mine. Elliot really balked at finishing it off withGod bless America. I could’ve overruled him and just told him to say those three damned words, but then I came up with the compromise. I have a feeling it’ll stick throughout his campaign.
If he’s asked about it by any of the far-right goobers, he can honestly tell them that he has his own faith and beliefs and refuses to impose those beliefs on anyone else, and would hope that no one else would try to force him to comply with theirs.
Hence a “nondenominational” phrase.
Although he isn’t going to like that I need to start getting him out to church services at the National Cathedral on a regular basis. He’s been to a few over the years, but he doesn’t like to disrupt the public. A few times a year, he meets with one of the reverends or whatever they’re called from there, when they’ve come to the White House for a visit.
I really need to learn more about it so I can speak intelligently.
Although the truth is he’s basically doing it as a photo opp and not legit spiritual…whatevering. Like me, Elliot has no use for organized religion.
But if he wants to grab flyover-state votes, and peel away liberal conservatives from the GOP, he’s going to have to suck it up and deal.
Although, Icouldask Daniel Walker-Davis for more info about all of that. He’s a House staffer, but he’s married to Senator Liam Davis, and I know they attend the National Cathedral on a regular basis.
They’re what I’d call “good Christians,” because they’re not hypocritical assholes like my parents. The men do good works in their spare time. They don’t use their religion as a campaign crutch, and they actually walk their talk without being dicks. They volunteer for several charities, pitching in with grunt work, not just with fundraising.
Elliot makes his way down toward the crowd, where barricade fencing keeps them back. Me and the other campaign workers scurry down there as Elliot starts working the rope, so to speak. Secret Service is on high alert. Belatedly, I’m kicking myself in the ass that I didn’t make Elliot wear his body armor today.
I should have.
He hates wearing it, though. It reminds him too much of what he survived. He has several suits and shirts that are specially tailored so he can wear a vest under a dress shirt and jacket, instead of over it and visible.
The reporters covering this event are swarming as well, buzzing like hornets on the edges of the crowd and shouting questions at Elliot. Ken has already promised an exclusive to a WaPo junior reporter who’s apparently the daughter of a friend of his, in exchange for her keeping quiet until now. It’ll take place in about two hours at the temporary campaign headquarters. She didn’t go on the overseas trip, and she’s about to get her byline on the story of a century.
Yeah, there’s a silent and implied quid pro quo there.
Hey, hands wash hands in this town. Maybe she’ll give us some more favorable coverage during the campaign, and she looks like she’s an insider, giving her gravitas.
She’ll likely be an embed with the campaign from this point forward.
I’m good with that.
Because I want to stack the deck as much as I can for Elliot.
I feel my pocket vibrate and retrieve what turns out to be my campaign phone to find a text from Kev’s personal phone. How he got this number already is beyond me, but he did.
All that’s there is a thumbs-up emoji.
It cannot be about anything but what just transpired. Meaning, somehow, Kev had someone get him a live feed.
I text him back a smiley face.
I know why he contacted me on the campaign phone—because he doesn’t want an official record on his work cell or mine.
Forty-five minutes later, we’re out of there and heading to the campaign headquarters.
Away from the public, Elliot now looks like shit, which I anticipated, and which is why we’re alone in the back of the armored SUV.
“You were amazing, boy.” That’s not even a lie. He was fantastic.
