[h3]December, 1956 Washington D.C.[/H3] Alexander Roy turned the collar of his coat up to keep rain away. He stood out of the Occidental Grill and tried to flag a cab down. He regretted not taking an umbrella with him to the dinner interview. It had been an interesting experience with the senator-elect. Eric Fernandez had a lot of ideas, most of them progressive but plenty of them ambitious. It was clear he saw a bright political future for himself. And he was asking for Alex's help to make it come true. A taxi sped by, ignoring Alex's frantic gesture. He cursed and turned to head back into the restaurant when a black limousine pulled the curb. Alex looked at it while a dark tinted window slowly rolled down. Jim Sledge's doughy face stared back at him with a grin. "Mr. Roy, need a lift?" Alex climbed into the car, thanking Sledge as he did. He gave a slight start as he saw someone sitting in the rear facing seat of the limousine. He'd seen him before, of course, stalking through the capitol on the way to the Senate even before the election. But Alex had never been this close to Russell Reed. "Hello, Alex," the vice president-elect said with a warm handshake. "Mr. Vice President," Alex managed to say. "Congratulations on the election." "We did what we could," said Reed. "We were helped by a less than stellar opposition, though. Congratulations to you and Congressman Hayes as well, Alex. Tennessee is well-served by Hayes." "Like Wisconsin will be well-served by Eric Fernandez," Sledge said slyly. Alex coughed and adjusted his tie while both Sledge and Reed shared a smile and a look. "Don't worry, Alex," Reed said with a pat on his knee. "Washington is full of gossip, but Jim and I know how to keep a secret. Will is going to be crushed by you leaving him, but I get it." "Hayes is content to keep being reelected by the people in his district," said Sledge. "You're not going to get anywhere being his chief of staff. Eric Fernandez, on the other hand? Ambitious. Just as you." "Stoke that ambition," said Reed. "Make him look beyond the Senate to something higher, something that could easily be in his grasp." Alex furrowed his brow and looked between the two men. "Why?" "Trust me," said Reed. "Just work with Fernandez over the next few years, get him thinking even bigger than he already is, and work like hell for him. You won't be talking to me much, Jim here will be point of contact. But, be loyal to him except when we need you be loyal to us. You do that and I'll take you further than Fernandez ever could. All the way to the White House. " Reed held a hand out for Alex. He looked down at it and thought for a moment. He knew about Reed's reputation on the Hill. Once he got his hooks in someone, then he seemed to have control of their very soul. It was the same way with poor Senator Sanderson and Jim Sledge. They served him without any question like slaves. But then there was the trade-off. Sanderson was a senator now, and Sledge was one of the most powerful in the party simply because Reed said so. Alex shook Reed's hand and nodded. "Whatever you need, sir." "Good." The warmth that had been on the vice president-elect's face vanished. "Jim will be in touch. Now, get out the car and get to work." --- [h3]Present Day Los Angeles[/h3] [b]Baxter Hotel 3:31 AM[/b] Alex watched Eric Fernandez snoring on his bed. They'd had a few drinks to celebrate the deadlock at the convention, but too many. Eric wanted to be awake and sober when the inevitable wheeling and dealing started. He expected the calls to be coming and going from his hotel room to the other bosses, horse-trading and arguing his case as to why he was a better choice for the nomination. So he had asked for water to be generously applied to the drinks Alex was fixing. After the fourth drink he was drunk. After the sixth he was out. Eric was a lightweight when it came to drinking. That's why Alex lied about watering it down. He knew that for the next part to work for Reed, Eric needed to be out of the picture. Alex sat down on his bed and watched his friend and employer snore heavily. He had a drink in his hand, his seventh so far. He was drunk, but nowhere near close to passing out. He wondered if that was a good or bad thing? Was he drinking in celebration for having pulled off all that the vice president had asked of him, or was he drowning his sorrows over betraying a friend. "Don't worry," Alex mumbled into his drink. "There's always '68." --- [b]7:30 AM[/b] "I just don't want to nominate a guy who is gonna lose," Lennie Parrish growled. "I don't give a fuck if he's president or not. Give me someone who can win." "And the junior senator from Wisconsin is a winner?" Walter Babbit asked before scoffing. "He was the goddamn mayor of Green Bay before he was a senator, and that was four years ago." "And I don't know if I like that name of his," Wilbur Helms said from his wheelchair. "It don't sound American to have a President Fernandez." From his seat at the big table, Big Jim Dwyer took it all in while his feet failed to touch the floor. The bosses were just as deadlocked as the delegates. The Norman camp was fiercely entrenched, as were those that supported Fernandez. The president had the power of the incumbent, but he was too unlikable and his administration unpopular. Fernandez was an outsider, yes, but a political naif and idealists. Besides, his policies were too liberal for some. Big Jim glanced over to the corner where Vice President Reed and Jim Sledge sat. So far, neither men had much to contribute. Russell had delivered a few opinions on Norman's ability to win, but they seemed little more than platitudes. Big Jim finally spoke. "Okay, so let's recap. What we need is an experienced politician, one who is still a conservative. One who has name recognition and incumbency value, but not the president himself?" Big Jim saw Sledge and Charlie Ricketts exchange looks. There seem to be a nod that was almost undetectable from Sledge. With a gleam in his eye, Ricketts spoke the words he'd been waiting almost four hours to say. "What about Reed?" Half the men in the room looked stunned. The other half were pretending to be stunned. For his part, Reed stared straight ahead impassively. One man who was so shocked he seemed to be on the verge of tears was Wilbur Helms. "By god, I never thought of Russ. It's perfect!" "He's a southerner," said AJ Patterson. "There's stigma there." "He is a southerner," Jim Sledge said. "One who spent the war in a federal prison with the rest of the House of Representatives. He suffered more than most during those years." "He's also in the room," Russell said loudly. "And capable of talking to you. "You're tied to the administration, yes," Ricketts said with a look towards Reed. "But almost all the unpopular stuff you were nowhere near. We can distance you more and more from it as we start to campaign." "Russell Reed as our candidate," Walter Babbit said with a shake of his head. "It's not that crazy," Parrish said. He looked over at Reed. "You ran strong in the '56 convention." "The convention isn't the same as the general," replied Patterson. "We haven't had a southern president, a true southerner since I don't count Wilson, since before the first civil war." "Can I say a few words?" All eyes turned to Reed. He now stood and walked towards the big table slowly and hunched over, like a jungle cat would approach its prey. "I almost won the nomination in '56. When I didn't it hurt like hell. It hurt even worse to take the VP spot on the ticket. It embarrassed me to take such a meaningless office as a consolation prize, but I smiled and took it. For the good of the party. And then I got to work, both to elect the president in '56 and myself in '60. Four years of plotting, of working with political machines and carefully curating my image as vice president. Showing the world that I had power and experience, but not enough to tie me to the president's more horrible decisions. I took advantage of the president's unpopularity, the overlapping interests of the bosses, and the political ambitions of the next generation of politicians. I planted the seeds of doubt in the president's mind about his reelection chances and got him desperate, I advised him the only way to get the party bosses on his side was to antagonize them and challenge them. I convinced dark horse candidates they had a shot, convinced party leaders to back the dark horses, and drove wedges through the party's entire united front. This convention was a mess, a deadlock. It was a complete clusterfuck, by my design. But that perfect storm of self-interest, one that destroyed the president's chances of being reelected, created a hole just big enough for me to squeeze through." "Jesus Christ, Russ." Parrish said. "Jesus fucking Christ." "I destroyed our party's convention to get me nominated," Reed said with a gleam in his eye. "Just think what I'll do to the Republicans with the election on the line?" The bosses all looked around the table at each other. For some, like Parrish and Patterson, they were stunned to hear the admission. But Big Jim knew this was coming. He knew ever since Ricketts approached him with Reed's offer. His support in exchange for a Reed-Kane ticket in the fall. "Let's go with Russell," Big Jim said. "He's just proven how much of a bastard he is. But, at least he's our bastard." "Fuck it," said Patterson. "Let's go with him. If he loses the general... well, there's always '64." --- [b]11:25 AM[/b] "How does Wisconsin vote?" "The great state of Wisconsin cast all its votes for Vice President Russell Reed!" From his box, Russell watched the votes pour in. A smile worked itself on to his face. He thought back once again to his childhood in Georgia, being the town laughingstock. He had been embarrassed back then and worked hard to be somebody, worked so hard to go to college and law school that he barely had time to eat or sleep. That need to be somebody drove him to the point of collapse and exhaustion. Four years ago, he had received a national embarrassment. And now, after four years of late nights and cross-country travels and almost no sleep, here he was. "The great state of Wyoming cast all its votes for Vice President Russell Reed." The phone began to ring. The one with the direct line to Washington. Russell picked it up and answered it. "Russell...." He sounded scary. It wasn't that he was angry. It was that he didn't sound like anything, like he was devoid of emotions all together. Russell was glad he wasn't crying. Although, crying would be better than whatever he was at the moment. But he could still savor his victory. "Mr. President," said Russell. "I've wanted to say this to you for over four years now...." He trailed off as Clay Foulke banged his gavel to bring the convention to order. Once there was calm, he spoke. "It is my pleasure to announce the unanimous choice for the Democratic Party's nominee for president will be Russell Rutherford Reed!" Russell laughed and held the phone up close to his mouth. "I have an acceptance speech to make. Go fuck yourself." He slammed the phone down and started his victory march to the stage.