by
phair
“Yes, I understand the inconvenience. I apologize for the disruption of the schedule,” Heather said.
She was trying to keep her cool while explaining the delayed launch to a clearly unhappy group of men and women at the dilapidated dock under a canopy of gray clouds. One lean man in a business suit sneered as he shift his rain booted feet. A woman with frizzled, braided hair standing near him openly mocked the statement as nothing more than excuses. The choppy, icy waters of the Atlantic behind them would have been more receptive to Heather’s apology.
“He’s avoiding a confrontation. Why not just call it what it is? He’s not late because of car trouble. Sam Allerton has no intention of showing up because he has no intention of cleaning up the harbor islands.” The woman’s voice grew stronger with the murmur of support around her. “He’s got to kowtow to deep pockets of the special interest groups like this guy here,” she was shouting now as she pointed to the man next to her. “Sam Allerton’s just like the rest of these ‘show me the money’ political hacks!”
“Miss, if you’re annoyed with the senator that’s fine,” the guy in the business suit grumbled loudly, “but don’t go linking my bank to a special interest. We’re the only local bank in this county. We’re the only bank to continue to lend qualified homebuyers mortgages during this unprecedented recession.”
“And, you’re the only guy here driving a Lexus,” a voice shouted from the back to be heard over the roar of an approaching motorcycle engine.
“Please, please, ladies and gentleman let’s all try to refrain from personal attacks,” Heather’s attempt to calm the crowd was distracted by the motorcyclist and passenger parking less than fifty feet away. “Sam?”
Sam was only vaguely aware the motorcycle had stopped moving. He was not completely satisfied of his safety even after the engine was shut off. Leather gloved fingers began to peel his own fingers loose from around the driver’s midsection.
“Hey, there Sammy, we’re here. Showtime,” Coyote tried to reassure as she worked to dislodge Sam’s death grip on her.
“Give me, give me,” Sam clenched tighter as he tried to get the words out. “Give me a second.”
Coyote gasped with the strength of his squeeze. She continued to smooth her hand over Sam’s.
“Dude,” she was finally able to croak out, “some chick is straight lining it for us. Man up, Sam.”
He was able to release his hold on Coyote at the words of warning. He peered over his tall cousin’s shoulder and saw Heather jogging toward them in high heels.
“Shit! I’m late.”
“Well, if you didn’t act like such a baby about taking the bike, we could have shaved five minutes off the trip,” Coyote defended as Sam scrambled to get off the motorcycle and pull his head out of his helmet.
“For Christ sake Sam, what do you think you’re doing? You’re dead late and you show up like out of a scene from Easy Rider. And, who is this suppose to be?” Heather’s lip curled as she turned a questioning glance to Coyote.
“Dude, I’m out of here,” Coyote grumbled.
Sam put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder before he spoke. “Please, don’t rush off. Let me introduce you properly. Please.”
Coyote was stunned to inaction by his sincerity.
“Heather,” Sam began and grinned, “this is my cousin, Coyote Nightmoon. She’s been a lifesaver today. I don’t know what I would have done without her unsolicited help. Coyote, this is Heather Trent. She’s my former Administrative Assistant.”
“What?” Healther’s jaw dropped.
“Hey Sam, don’t do anything rash,” Coyote interjected as she climbed off her bike.
“Not rash. I’ve had the whole night to think about what she said to me,” Sam said bitterly.
Heather looked over her shoulder to make sure the pack of constituents and reporters remained herded by the boat ramp. Once satisfied none of them were within listening distance, Heather turned to face Sam.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I acted terribly yesterday. Your life is your business. I overstepped the boundaries of our work relationship. Worst part of it is, I didn’t think about you first. I’m sorry. Let me just finish this tour of the islands with you and then I’ll submit my resignation. You can’t lose their focus,” she indicated the group behind them with a gentle toss of her head, “with an in-house office tiff. What you’re going to say today is too important.”
Before Sam could reply, Coyote offered her encouragement. “Heather makes some really good points, Sammy. You pay her to give you well reasoned advice and that sure sounded reasonable to me.”
“Thank you, Ms. Coyote,” Heather demurred.
Coyote stood a bit straighter and gave a little nod of her head, “It is actually Ms. Nightmoon but you can call me Coyote.”
“Okay,” Sam gave in, “we’ll deal with personnel issues later. Let’s get the hard work out of the way first. Coyote, you up for a boat ride?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Free Continental breakfast provided by the GOP,” Sam replied.
Coyote grinned, “All aboard!”
Heather gave a firm nod. She turned and hurried back to the dock. Once she was well ahead of Sam and Coyote, Coyote elbowed Sam.
“She’s hot!”
“For God’s Sake,” Sam muttered.
Coyote was undeterred by his rebuff. “Seriously, is she involved with anybody at the moment?”
Sam smoothed his hair back from his forehead and mumbled under his breath, “Look, we have work to do. Don’t be bothering Heather.” Sam’s curiosity was piqued though and he had to ask, “You don’t think she’s a lesbian, do you?”
"No,” Coyote replied very seriously in a low tone as they approached the crowd gathered for the harbor islands’ tour, “I know she’s a lesbian.”
All Sam could do was greet the crowd and begin to shake hands.
* * *
“And, as you can see, the islands are suffering irreparable damage by recreational boating and recreational and commercial fishing,” the frizzled haired woman finished her presentation to the group shivering at the port rail.
“Would you recommend limiting fishing licenses?” Sam asked and several members of the group gasped.
“Our study concludes that nothing short of complete elimination of all fishing and boating in these waters will save the islands.”
The banker’s face turned bright red as he tried to control his volume, “That is the dumbest thing you’ve said today, Ellen. And, you’ve said a lot of dumb things.”
“You’ll have your rebuttal time, Mr. Carpenter,” Heather tried to diffuse the situation with procedural points.
“He can’t rebut science! These are the facts right here,” Ellen held the document up. “You can not disprove the truth.”
“Depends on who’s buying the truth,” an older woman in the back of the group croaked resulting in hoots of laughter.
General anarchy was about to ensue when Sam raised his hand and spoke evenly but with his characteristic good nature,
“Now folks, we’re not going to spiral into a brawl. That’s what town meetings are for.” The group chuckled at the remark. “Ellen Weiner’s report is thorough and well investigated. It represents a two years study. My office will link her document on our homepage so everybody can read it. The same with Jed Carpenter’s report. The links will be available at my office’s homepage. We are going to listen to our second presenter and then you can all get a bite while I yammer on for a bit. So, Jed, would you give us all your synopsis?” The group settled back into respectful attention at the Sam’s request.
“He really knows how to work a room,” Heather confided to Coyote.
Coyote grinned and gave a sexy wink, “Yep, and he ain’t half bad on a boat deck either.”
Heather stared for a moment before a smile graced her lips. “Apparently, it runs in the family.”
* * *
Sam stood at the picnic table next to the closed clam shack on the dock. The group had gathered around him to hear his closing remarks from the tour. All of them expected the usual political speech designed placate the masses, offend nobody, and take a firm stand based on party lines.
“Thank you all for your time and attendance this morning. In spite of choppy seas, we had a productive and informative tour of, what I consider to be, a national treasure here in our own backyard; the harbor islands. In preparation for this event, I read each of the reports presented today. No two documents could be more opposite. They agree on only one thing, a disaster will occur if we fail to act. Mr. Carpenter’s group believes the course should be expanding fishing and boating to ensure a healthy economy so we can afford to care for the islands. Ms. Weiner’s group has research to prove the islands will be destroyed if we do not completely restrict fishing and boating.” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Solomon had an easier choice to make.” The crowd chuckled but it was a nervous sound. “He knew one of the women before him was a liar because they both could not love the disputed child. My friends, both the groups trying to convince us their position is correct love the islands and need them as much as we do. How to choose?” The group grew silent. “I will not choose. I will not support either bill being presented by Mr. Carpenter or Ms. Weiner.”
There were gasps. Quickly angry shouts began. Sam waited a moment and fixed his gaze on some of the louder members before him. Their outcry diminished considerably under his intense scrutiny.
“We all have a stake in this. Each of us is right and each of us is wrong to some extent. I’m calling on all sides to meet with me in a series of open meetings to help me carve out a new bill. None of us will get all we want but each of us will get something we need. And, our precious harbor islands will be the winners of our united efforts. Join me, work with me, let’s stop the political nonsense and just get the job done!”
The group was silent until his last word. They exploded in rabid applause. Those who were critical only moments before were cheering. As he moved through the crowd, hands reached out and grabbed for his sleeve or his arm or to pat him on the back. They swarmed him and their support of his speech could be seen in their movements and heard in their shouts.
“Wow,” Coyote was nearly breathless with the scene she was witnessing.
Heather grinned. “You never heard one of his speeches before.”
“Nope. And, I’ve never heard a politician in this state invite average slobs to help write a bill.”
“That’s because,” Heather beamed with pride, “no politician in this state in the last fifty years has done anything like this. It is open meeting government at it’s best. He’s the real deal, Coyote. Sam’s a true believer and someday he’s going to be governor.”
Coyote shook her head. “He keeps turning crowds around like that and he’ll be president.”
