Stoner for State Senatewas splashed in bright blue letters across the front.
I took a step back in shock.
Ben leaned forward and took my hand again, steadying me. He spoke quickly. “The state senator for District 14 isn’t seeking reelection—that’s right here in Travis County. I know you know that, but what you don’t know is that a tech mogul has just decided to run for the seat. His name is Hayes Adams. Forty-five, millionaire. Believes in big business. Opposes corporate taxes, says they stifle innovation. Doesn’t think climate change is a pressing threat. So far, he’s running unopposed on the Democratic ticket, which we both know is the only ticket that matters in Austin.”
Ben’s eyes held mine. “I want you to run against him.”
“What?” I tried to pull back, but Ben stood, holding on to my hands.Thiswas what he’d been planning? It was crazy.
“Lee, you’re insanely good at public policy. You’re even better at figuring out how to connect with people. I’ve watched you every day, for months now, talk to every kind of person in the state of Texas, and you always know what to say or do that matters to them. You have a master’s in environmental policyandyou have the intangibles—the things that can’t be taught.”
“Ben, I—”
“You’re the most passionate person I’ve ever met.” The look on his face was so earnest, so hopeful. He cracked a small smile. “Maybe a little too passionate, if we’re being honest. You’re brave, and you’ll throw yourself into the fire for a cause or a person you care about. You’re an incredible candidate. Are you kidding? Can you imagine if every politician sitting in the capitol was likeyouinstead of like Janus and Wayne and McBuck?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
His eyes grew more intense. “I don’t just want a State Senate run, either. I’ll put my cards on the table. I want you to spend four years in the Texas leg, and then I want to run you for a US Senate seat.”
I yanked my hand back. “TheUS Senate? Ben, I’m too young! And I’m a Democrat in Texas. And a woman. A woman who drinks and smokes pot and has sex like an actual human being.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Like all the rest of the politicians, but better. That’s the point you made at the press conference, right?”
“People aren’t ready for that.”
“Stoner, women are running for office all over the country. Plenty of them younger than you, with less policy experience. And they’re winning. People are hungry for change.”
His eyes were hungry as they cast over my face.
“But no one knows who I...” The words died even before I got to the end of the sentence. That was patently untrue—peopledidknow me now, according to the opinion research. “They think of me as a joke. I’ll mess up at some point, Ben. I’m thequeenof messing up.” There it was, my underlying weakness: at the end of the day, no matter how hard I worked at my professional mask, I would always be Stoner. Better to make it clear to Ben now.
“Maybe you will mess up,” he said gently. “And maybe they’ll like you for it. You saw Anita’s numbers. People connect with you, Stoner. Face it.”
Peopledidseem to like me a little. And there were plenty of people sitting in the legislature that shouldn’t be there, either because they were actively awful, stuck in their ways or had simply stopped trying.
“It was always my dream,” I said softly, letting Ben’s earnestness sneak under my skin, cause a little tendril of hope.
Ben grinned. “I know. You told me that five years ago, and I never forgot it.”
I paced, unable to stop the wheels from turning. “But what would my platform be?”
“Climate, obviously. Putting people over corporations. Racial and gender equity across every field—jobs, health care, criminal justice, education. Equity withteeth, not just platitudes—with budgets backing you up. Economic justice, so single moms and other people living on minimum wage don’t have to struggle so hard. All the things you believe in that the people in the capitol don’t think are possible, or even important.”
Slowly, a fire stoked inside me. I had a lot of platform ideas, to be honest. I’d started working on them in college, and even though I hadn’t gotten to use them in the campaign with Andy Elliot, I’d held on to them. Worked on them as a hobby, tweaking, expanding. Through grad school and all the years since. It was why I’d wanted to be Lise Motor’s vice president of public affairs so badly: one step closer to the dream. But Ben was proposing I go straight for it.
He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. The man’s muscles were still so tensed, his body rigid as a board, like he was on edge, holding something inside. “I left so I could go on the road and take meetings, socialize the idea of your candidacy with Texas movers and shakers.”
I was pretty sure my jaw had dropped. Ben hadn’t run from me; he’d leftforme.
“Not to promise them you were running or anything,” he added hurriedly, “just to gauge their opinion. The ACLU, Texas Democratic Women and the Organizing Project loved the idea. They want to talk policy with you. All the climate groups and the democratic socialists are behind you. The sex workers’ union.”
I waved a hand. “That one’s a given.”
“Honestly, everyone left of left of center,” he added.
I stopped pacing and spun to him. “But I would need money. Donors. And who wants to fund the Sex Club Spokeswoman?”
“Funny you should ask,” he said cautiously. “Because I just had my last meeting a day ago, and it was with a funder who said they’d be in big if you said yes.”
