Free Up in Smoke by Charlene Weir Page A

let their clouds of doubt drift away on the sweet odor of success.”
    He grabbed for her hand, yanked her close, and crushed her in a full body hug, forcing the air from her chest. “Welcome aboard!”
    â€œUh—”
    â€œHe says you’re gonna be great, just great. We’re gonna win this thing. Right, Bernie? Tell her what we’re doin’ here. You’re goin’ to love us.”
    â€œI’m not even sure who else is running.”
    â€œHoney chile, I’ll give you your first lesson in politics,” Leon said. “Nobody’s runnin’.” He wiggled bushy eyebrows. “Yet,” he added with a braying laugh. “We’re all out there feelin’ around and dippin’ our toes in the water to see how hot it is.”
    â€œCass.” Jack, buttoning his shirt, walked into the living room from the hallway behind her. “Thank you for coming,” he said, awkwardly formal. He smiled, a little wary, a little unsure of how she’d respond.
    â€œHey, not every political candidate seeking the nomination asks me out to his farm.”
    â€œCass—” He looked around, then took her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
    With a hand on her elbow, he steered her into the kitchen. Two officers followed. “Going somewhere, Governor?”
    Jack shook his head. “Just out back.”
    Floodlights had been set up in the back also. Using a cane and limping slightly, Jack walked across the patio and along a gravel path toward a small grove of trees.
    â€œNot a good idea, Governor,” an officer said. “This area isn’t secure.”
    â€œIt’d have to be a great big coincidence if some whack job wanting to kill me just happens to be out there in the dark and I just happen to come out here and he just happens to have a gun.”
    Cass could tell the officer wanted to say something like, Fuck, yeah, it could happen, but he clamped his mouth and kept his eyes on the tall trees they were heading toward.
    â€œWe won’t be long. It’s too cold, for one thing. I want to talk with Cass. You can stay over there.”
    With stiff reluctance, the officers moved out of earshot and stood facing them, legs wide apart, hands clasped in front. Jack turned her around so she was facing him and looked directly into her eyes. His scrutiny embarrassed her and a dizzying surreal feeling came over her. Twenty years since she’d seen him. What did he want with her? Stray fingers of wind stirred the hair around her face and she brushed it back.
    The silence grew thick and when it started to choke her, she said, “It’s late and I’m sure you had a long day and—”
    â€œWould you like something? A drink? Coffee?”
    She shook her head and pulled her coat tight.
    A trace of a smile. “Hot tea?” He crossed his arms. “I didn’t realize it was so cold.” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, easing his injured ankle, and looked up at the night sky. “It’s a night of a new moon.”
    She looked up and saw nothing but stars, cold and glittery, reaching forever across the endless sky.
    â€œI want you to join the campaign,” he said in a different voice, softer, full of loss and longing and regret and maybe even a little pleading.
    Bernie had told her as much, so that came as no big surprise. “Why, Jack?”
    â€œForeign policy advisor.”
    â€œWhat? You’re crazy.”
    â€œThe resolution of this war on terrorism and the political consequences are the key issues in this election. You know that area.”
    She put her hands in her pockets, somehow to keep herself steady. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that an old girlfriend wasn’t tracked down simply to talk over old times. It only made sense if the old girlfriend in question could contribute something important to the cause. “I know nothing,” she