Free Eddy's Current by Reed Sprague

always have. You’re a creature from the past, too. You won’t survive in politics today. Get out while you can.”
    “I like you, Mr. Dominici. May I have your phone number?”
    “Has anyone ever told you that you don’t listen well, you’re not realistic, and you’re annoying?”
    “Yes, sir. I’ve heard it before.”
    “You may have heard the words at some level, but I’m not sure they were absorbed by your brain. Here’s my phone number.”
    All signs directed Alex to the road to surrender. If he hadn’t resigned his position at the FBI, he would have given up after speaking with Dominici. But he had no other options. He had to make it work. The campaign was his only choice.
    Sunday, 26 January 2014. Day seven began no different than the first six days except that it was Sunday, so Alex and his parents attended sunrise mass before Alex hit the campaign trail. The disappointments on the campaign trail were the same as usual.
    Alex headed down the same highway he was on when he happened on Dominici. He stopped along the way to Sanford to speak with several farmers and other people who lived in the rural areas between Gainesville and Sanford. It was 11:45 in the morning and he was approaching Dominici’s home. He was starving. He’d had no breakfast, in order to save a few bucks, so lunch was on his mind. Approaching Dominici’s house, he could see that Dominici was out again, working in his yard. Though unsure of his own reasons for doing so, Alex stopped again to say hello.
    “Have you thought about my offer?” Alex said, calling out jokingly, as he got out of his car.
    “What offer?”
    “The offer I’m going to make to you to be my campaign manager.”
    “Hilarious. You could do better. I’m not sure that I could, but you could definitely do better.”
    “Do you mean a better joke or a better campaign manager?”
    “Both.”
    “Can I buy you lunch?”
    “I don’t do power lunches anymore. Haven’t in years.”
    “This won’t be a power lunch. It’ll be the special over at the truck stop.”
    “You really are a pain, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, sir. I am.”
    “Give me a minute. I have to go clean up. I’m not used to going places. I leave this haven only occasionally to go to the market to get groceries.”
    “Nobody calls them markets any longer. They’re now called grocery stores.”
    “Hilarious.”
    The ride to the truck stop was quiet. Alex’s car hummed, then clanged, rattled, slowed, turned sharply, pulled into a parking space, and stopped. The truck stop was huge—three restaurants, forty–seven gas pumps, four truck wash stations, two car washes. The entire complex was spotless.
    The two sat down at a booth. Dominici ordered steak and eggs; Alex ordered a giant hamburger, fries, and a salad. Both ordered water to drink.
    “I figured that I would eat steak, since you’re buying,” Dominici said.
    “Glad I took you to lunch today rather than tomorrow, then,” Alex said.
    “Why? You going broke?”
    “Faster than I thought.”
    “Good. Now maybe you’ll give up.”
    “I won’t give up.”
    “I can tell. What’s your strategy?”
    “My strategy? Well, um. I, um, well, you know… I uh, well, I’ll go door to door, get commitments for votes, uh… debate. I’ll debate Jennings. Campaign heavily in Gainesville and Jax. And, that’ll wrap it up.”
    “You really are naive, aren’t you. Listen, let me give you some more free advice.”
    “Let me guess. I need to get out now?”
    “No, I mean, yes, that’s still a good idea, but for whatever reason — apparently known only to God and you — you’re going to stay the course. No, my advice for right now is that you get realistic about all this, and that you do so in a hurry.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that you have to engage Jennings, you have to do so soon, and you have to be careful how you go about it.”
    “I’m not going to trash him, if that’s what you mean.”
    “No. That’s not