Political Hack

Chapter 1

A video played on a large, wall-mounted, forty inch flat panel television, showing a blonde man with his hair swept back. The mane stopped just shy of the collar of his dark blue, three-piece suit. He stood in a green-grassed open field, and to his side, just barely on screen was an American flag staked into the ground, flapping in the breeze. He wore an easy smile, as he adjusted his solid red tie, then placed one hand in his pocket.

“Politics…” he began, then with a gentle shake of his head, the man continued, “Politics are out of hand. One side says this, the other says that, and in the end nothing gets done… at least nothing that actually does any good for the American people. Have you ever thought, why are almost all of our leaders great-grandparents? Why are they still in office instead of standing to the side, sharing their wisdom, and lifting up the next generation?” He shrugged, and continued, “I have asked myself that question more than once. I believe we should make a change…a change for our nation, and a change for ourselves. I’m Reagan Demir and I would like to be your next senator for the great state of Florida, so I can help achieve this goal. I hope you all will join me.” Turning his head just slightly, Reagan gazed up to the flag waving about in the wind before raising a salute.

The tv went dark after an auburn-haired woman with golden-brown eyes clicked the remote. For two heartbeats she said nothing, sitting there, vaguely pointing up towards the screen. The man sitting across from her, Reagan, wore a gray-blue tailored suit, appearing much the same as he did in the ad they’d just watched, while the woman wore a blue, double-wrap, asymmetrical dress, with metal buttons lining the waist, a pair of white two-and-a-half inch round-toe pumps with a delicate strap across the instep. A person could tell the beauty was precise. Every piece of jewelry, from her two stone rings, to her silver plastron necklace, painted the picture of a woman who knew how to dress well enough to be taken seriously - understated, but gorgeous all the same. Using two fingers she moved a strand of her shoulder length, curled locks from her eyes.

“That…that was good.” The stunning professional pointed to the screen again, emphasizing just how proud of her work she was. “I know it’s good because it polled well. I also know it because I wrote it, and you delivered it…well except for that hokey ad-lib you snuck in at the end, Rey” She used the same familial nickname she called the young politician for over a decade. “That ad will be playing for the first time tonight at six-o-clock on all four major broadcast networks, reaching millions of homes. You don’t need me to tell you how hard that was to pull off.”

Nodding his head, Reagan offered a smile to the woman who was both his oldest friend, and presently his campaign manager, Eva. He was proud of their first commercial, only wishing he could have afforded the license for God Bless the USA to play softly in the background. He knew Eva wouldn’t like the salute, but that was precisely why he didn’t ask her in the first place.

“I think it will resonate well. One thing everyone can agree on is that they hate politicians. Though now I’ll have to gladhand our donors a little more. I need those guys from Mega Corp to keep giving me their wisdom and money… but mostly their money.” Wetting his lips, Reagan salivated over the prospect of more campaign contributions coming his way. “Hmm, I think I need a coffee.”

Eva tried to change the subject to one she believed far more important. “The next thing we need to talk about…” she began before being interrupted.

“You know, Eva, you do work for me, remember?” Reagan said, glancing from the coffee pot back to the perturbed woman. He didn’t expect anyone, especially her to wait on him hand and foot, but he didn’t think getting coffee for your boss, a soon-to-be senator, was such a big ask.

Locking eyes with Reagan, Eva stared into his baby blues for a moment. “Yes, Rey, I do, and right now my job is to go over this.” she continued, turning her laptop to face him. It showed the campaign’s website, which had in fact been updated without her input one day earlier.

“It ‘s my page, Eva. I don’t have to run everything past you.” Reagan stood to fix his own beverage before quickly softening his tone, hoping not to garner her ire any further. “You know I value your opinion, your skills, and…” He paused, flashing a smile, making a conscious effort not to eye the gorgeous woman up and down. He thought about it, but knew better. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. “I value you, but this is what is selling right now and if the base is buying it, then… well, you know. Besides, it isn't that far off from the truth.”

Pressing her lips together tightly, Eva took in her old schoolmate, as she tapped her well-manicured acrylics on the conference room table. She was aghast when she learned Reagan filled the site with the same anti-LGBTQ rhetoric some of the more hateful politicians had been spewing.

Eva remembered the young man she met on campus all those years ago. As freshmen they both joined the same clubs, debate, and the League of Young Republican Voters. She didn’t think much of the scrawny young blonde, hardly taller than her own five feet, eight inches. As she wrote her name on the club’s registration form, Eva Bree Arnoult, her ambitions were the same as the present day. Taking inspiration from the Bull Moose party, founded by Teddy Roosevelt, she hoped to bring socially progressive and fiscally conservative reforms back to the party.

It wasn’t until a little later when Eva really became drawn to Reagan. He was giving a speech about a congressman from Texas who’d just been reelected, and still voting at the ripe old age of ninety. By the end, Reagan had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand, and all it took was a light-hearted joke, and a little false humility. In Reagan Esen Demir she saw a glimpse of the future, but she didn’t know then what she knew now.

“Dammit, Rey!” Eva half-shouted, pausing a moment to calm her nerves. “You can be personable, and even downright inspirational, but this…” she gestured to her laptop, “this isn’t you. Your own sister is gay for heaven’s sake!”

Suddenly Eva remembered a comment Reagan had made years before, after she rejected yet another offer for a date. “Are you gay or something?”

Of course she told him that kind of talk was unacceptable, but as charming as he could be, she believed him when he tried to pass it off as giving in to his worst impulses at the sting of rejection. He seemed so genuine when he told her she was beautiful, going on about how her eyes “captivated” him, how hard it was for him to ask her out. The compliments felt good. Now, in the present, she knew it really was just him lashing out, but not from being hurt. It was because his glass ego couldn’t take it, and for just that moment, his facade collapsed.

“Don’t go bringing Callie into this. Eva. You know it isn’t natural, and that goes doubly for guys in dresses parading into the women’s bathroom. Even if you don’t see it that way, it’s just politics.”

She understood politics but she also understood what a bigot was. When Eva first saw the update she wanted to believe it had been a mistake. She wanted to give him a chance. She believed in Reagan, and she believed her skills could get him to the top, but now she felt empty inside, and just plain angry. She also had a queer sibling, and just couldn't imagine a person thinking about their own family the way he did.

‘Him saying all of this out in the open leaves me with a giant pile of shit to deal with.’ she thought to herself. His image certainly wasn’t going to clean itself up, so plans began to form in her mind, as she set to task. There was much work to be done.

Realizing Eva’s expression betrayed her barely contained rage, Reagan sighed. The last thing he needed was her cursing him out in French again, a thing she frequently liked to do when she got angry. Sometimes he could find it downright sexy, but on this occasion he was preoccupied by the fact that she was clearly about to quit.

“Come on, Eva, you know you can work with this. I haven’t changed. I need you. You are the best campaign strategist I know. You got me on the board of education without breaking a sweat. You have to live in reality though. The base is fired up about the bathrooms and parents forcing their toddlers to get gender surgeries. We’d be leaving votes on the table. Just think how your own career will take off once I’m in office… all because of you. Chief of Staff Arnoult will fit right in at the capitol.”

Without making eye contact, Eva spun her laptop back around, tapping a few keys before closing the screen. She hated that she agreed with him, at least the part about going to DC. It was still early in the election cycle, but she had already laid out the groundwork for success. It did mean there was a lot more work to do, but if she left, her replacement would have a winning campaign served up on a silver platter, and she wasn’t about to give that victory away. ”I want a fifteen percent bump to my salary and from now on, you run all decisions through me. ALL of them. You are a name, a voice, and a smile, but your words belong to me now.”

Leaning his head back, Reagan tapped his tongue to the inside of his cheek, an old tik he developed as a boy when he couldn’t let stitches heal after an accident. “How about twenty percent, and we agree that I’m the one in charge, but I swear I won't leave you out of the loop in the future?”

“Twenty?” Eva said, cocking her head slightly to the side. “Do a better job negotiating in the future, Rey.”

Reagan casually shrugged, believing he had her now. Eva was his good luck charm. It would be devastating if she left, and catastrophic if she decided to join a rival.

“Perhaps, but you know we’ve got the funds to spare, after my last trip to Chicago I have the support of Albert Amancio. So, I have I can afford to pay full price for the things, and people that are worth it.”

“You mean the trip where you picked up a woman in a store, and almost had the police called because her kids started a brawl in a ball pit?” she asked, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. She was still incredibly furious, but the girl who lived in the proverbial boy’s club had plenty of practice concealing her true feelings. ‘Keep calm, Eva. Get control of yourself first, and then the world around you.’

“They were her nieces and it wasn’t a ball pit… It doesn’t matter. So, we have a deal?” he asked, offering a handshake.

Eva narrowed her eyes, and stepped past the outstretched arm, well into Reagan’s personal space. In return she offered a sly smile, and one simple demand, “Twenty percent, and you remember that the political theater may be your show, but you, Mr. Demir, are the pony, and I’m the jockey, steering your reins to victory.”

‘God, she is beautiful.’ Reagan thought, meeting her golden brown eyes, her modest heels making the difference in height noticeable. “Done.” He closed the deal, knowing full well he’d continue doing whatever he wanted. That was what apologies, flowers, and such were for.

Before Reagan could pat himself on the back too hard, suddenly there came a drastic change in the small office. The forty-inch television in the conference room came to life once again. Green numbers, ones and zeros, ran across the black screen, and at the center was a blue cartoon animal with fuzzy round ears, and a black eyepatch decorated with a white skull. Its mouth twisted into a rather evil grin, teeth sharp as spikes. It laughed as the entire screen flickered static like the days before digital picture when the signal dropped out. “What the…what is this?”

“Aww…” Eva said, seeing the same thing on not just the many different tvs spaced around the office, but also on each of the computers as well. “Some sort of koala pirate?”

Rushing out of the conference room, Reagan hurried into his office. The tv on the wall, and both of his monitors displayed the same image. He hit a few keys on the keyboard, but nothing changed. Looking to Eva after she followed in behind him, he felt his heartbeat faster in his chest. “Fucking pirate koala, we are being fucking hacked! You’ve got a degree in computers - do something!”

Searching around the room, Eva leaned against Reagan’s adjustable standing desk. “Computer Engineering, and just because I did a little work as a white hat, it doesn’t mean I know how to stop a hacker.”

“White hat?” Reagan asked nervously.

“Someone that identifies weaknesses in systems and… It doesn’t matter. We need to get the computers off the network fast.” she said, reaching behind her boss’s tower and yanking out the cord. Far calmer than her boss, Eva gave one simple instruction, “Go unplug the router.”