JOHN SMITH FOR PRESIDENT 2020

JOHN SMITH FOR PRESIDENT

How the Democrats Won the

White House and Congress in 2020

A Novel

Part Three

(In Part Two, the Democratic donors met in Key West and made clear they wanted Ohio Democratic Senator John Smith of Ohio to be the nominee in 2020.

Eric Weygand, organizer of donor events, was recently dumped by his girlfriend, Caroline. He now meets Monica Lucius, daughter of meeting host, August Lucius.)

Eric followed the group through a plant and flower-filled salon into the spacious outdoors. The basketball-court-sized pool glistened in the Florida sunshine. Where is the leggy bikini girl I saw swimming earlier? Beyond, the long, sloping, beautifully landscaped lawn the blue Gulf waters sparkled invitingly. Hello, Carolyn, Eric, come back. I just won a fortune in the lottery. Now you can have love and money, the Jane Austen jackpot.

As people spread out in twos and threes, Bert Romand hung back and spotted Eric gazing in the direction of Havana. He tapped his arm. "Waddya think, Eric?

"Hi, Bert, you caught me dreaming. Most other contenders we're nicely aced out. John knows now that he fits the formula and will get the money he'll need. I think it looks good."

"The wild card is, will the people, at least some of them, who are likely to run be willing to back out."

"That will be tough, even with the money withholding."

Bert started off. "I've got to join the party. Coming?"

"I think I'll walk down to the water. Be back in a few minutes."

Using the phrase from Eric Ambler's books, Eric thought: I'm running down the backstreets of my mind. But the confusion ebbed, as he strolled down the golf-fairway-perfect lawn with the iridescent Gulf before him. He came to a little knoll and hiked over to see a soccer-pitch length dock lined with boats. First, a sloop with John B. on its tail. Nice. Across from it, a sleeps-at-least-fourteen cabin cruiser the size of a minesweeper. He walked out on the dock listening to the Gulf water lapping below. No one in sight until he came to a nineteen-thirties, Gar Wood speedboat. Looking like the polished teak one that Joe E. Brown skippered with Jack Lemmon all dolled-up beside him. You know, the 'Nobody's Perfect' scene that ends "Some Like It Hot.' Lying on a cushioned bench, under a floppy hat, reading a book was the bikini girl Eric saw swimming in the pool a few hours earlier.

She heard him, looked up, raised the brim of her hat and her sunglasses and smiled. And in a faintly European-tinted, sort of Audrey Hepburn accent, said, "Hi, come on down."

Being afraid of heights, he reversed and gingerly descended the steel ladder, while realizing he was no longer pining for Caroline.

"Please sit across there so I can gauge your character." She smiled. "Just kidding. Please turn your head so I can see your profile. You're no Barrymore"

He did while thinking: This is the strangest woman I've ever met.

"You're a dangerous one, rough trade. I must warn you that I have a chastity belt in Karate." He laughed out loud. "Eric Weygand, I'm Monica. You've heard of me from the song from way back when. You know," she sang while fake stringing, 'When Monica plays the harmonica down on the pier at Santa Monica.' Actually, it's Veronica. My father sang that to me as a child. During a breath stroke in your direction I saw you watching my swimming form this morning." Monica raised an eyebrow on the word 'form.' "Later, I did some research on you. Some good articles and books." She took a sip of a drink and reached out her long, sculpted arm to offer one. Eric leaned over, took the cup and pulled on the straw which had no lipstick on it.