Ready, Steady, Jo!

Natalie thinks it’d be fair to say that no meeting she has scheduled with a Senator– let alone one running for President– has ever begun like this. For the most part, she gets no meeting at all, or a door slammed in her face, or an assistant fired when the Senator realizes the mistake they’ve made. Rarely does she ever get a meeting as Natalie Meyer, Editor-in-Chief of The Witness, and even rarer still, do they openly admit that they like her and her work. 

She isn’t shocked– but of course, she kind of is, and is oddly quiet as she sits down in the chair across from Senator Korbel’s desk. She laughs at her joke and accepts the bourbon when it’s offered, despite the time and the setting, like she’s waiting for the shoe to drop. 

“Oh, we always find something to write about,” Natalie replies, crossing one leg over the other. “There’s no shortage of politicians with staffers who hate them.” As a matter of fact, she should find out exactly why the man before her had shattered the glass of Jo’s office. She makes a note to try and find him when she leaves. 

“And I’m a fan of yours, Senator Korbel,” Natalie says, the compliment genuine if not seemingly prompted. “Off the record, I was thrilled to hear that you were running. I think you’ll throw a pretty big fucking wrench into whatever Bell’s got planned.” She smiles, and adds: “If he’s even got one, I suppose.”

They say a week is a long time in politics, but the politicians who only look that far are the true losers. A true player knows how to gaze beyond the cycle and chain the link of every small event to accumulate into a grand finale. Jo had once fallen into the pitfall in her younger years back in state politics, too consumed by every small scandal and forgetting the goldfish memory of her constituents. But with age comes wisdom or so they say, though in reality wisdom was just another term for craftiness and an ability to be more refined in how you fucked someone over. 

So, it was no accident that Natalie arrived right before an altercation occurred. It was a real dispute, there was no point inserting lies into a story, that creates a weak link, but Jo wasn’t dumb. The man had been flagged up by her team before she’d even invited him, and she had no doubt she could inflame a negative response from him. All that had been left was making sure the right eyes were there to witness it. The painting produced itself. A lone female senator not afraid to face the violent angry men around her, strong in her opinions and refusing to hide. A great image to portray in a field dominated by men. Who said she couldn’t court some feminism to her side just because she’s republican?

Whether Natalie ran with the story wasn’t 100% certain, but there was no harm planting the idea in the reporter’s head. Jo knew that there was no way the editor of a rag as invasive as the Witness wouldn’t at least check up later. But that was the weeks ahead, the senator did also have to handle the actual moment, which had its own purpose. The senator couldn’t help smiling at the comment regarding staffers. “Of course, I can only imagine the salacious things some of them have seen.”

Believe it or not, Jo hadn’t expected the compliment and sipped her bourbon a moment as she raised an eyebrow. “Well I have to admit, that’s preferable to being called a bitch.”

“Might want to after this conversation,” Joe says with a smile as humourless as hers but filled with something more akin to dread. 

The main advice leading Joe to vote for the bill was that people would see his decision as a positive one, albeit from the wrong side of the aisle. It’d be his John McCain moment… without ruining the economy. Instead, however, Joe’d been subjected to countless conversations like this. Anger has always been louder and it was exhausting. Hopefully history would judge him more kindly.

Joe places the piece of glass on the table, not far from arm’s reach for he suspects he will probably have to use it on his jugular vein sixty seconds in.

Recent behaviour, he almost smirks as he takes the seat in front of her desk. “Really?” Joe says, all too sarcastic. He knows he’s treading on ice with cracks forming below his feet with every word he breathes.

She makes a comment about his family and he fails to suppress the grin that spreads along his lips. Well, that makes two of us, he wants to say in response but he bites his tongue in this instance. Apparently, he does hold the tiniest bit of self-preservation. “But you do care about their money. I mean,” he shrugs, “Everyone does.”

“Uh– look, Jo, in all seriousness…” Hands clasped together, Joe taps his thumb together, lips pursed in a juvenile manner as he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. Nerves? Definitely. “I’ll have a coffee, please, if that’s alright. Black, no sugar.”

Politics had a great way of scaring the shit out of people. It was quite a brilliant tool at times, sometimes the brevity of institutions and the titles they give could weigh on someone like a brick. That was what Jo was seeing right now in Joe, hidden beneath his rather faint veneer of humour was fear. Which was quite right, if he thought the war was bad, he had yet to see what a poor political legacy can do to someone’s life. People forget the war, they never forget the betrayal

“I do, but you see the beauty of DC is there are many, many pockets. If you think I can’t find another that doesn’t lose me votes, well my dearest little Joey, you underestimate quite how long I’ve been doing this.” There’s a surprising warmth to her voice like she was talking to a student or even her own flesh and blood. You could be fooled into thinking it was advice if not for the facts of the words themselves cutting like a deadly knife of truth.

“However, there’s only one RNC and well Joe, I know it more than you know your own reflection, which you clearly look at a lot.” The senator leant forward, and suddenly the room’s last cast down with her, as her blue eyes settled on him with a viper like intensity. 

At the request for coffee, she laughed and for a moment he was offered some safet7 as she leant back and pressed her phone, offering the order to her secretary. Joe could have been transported to the local friendly coffee shop by the sudden blitheness in her tone. Then it collapsed again as Jo offered him her truth. It was said as simply as a recipe in a book, the very steps and outcome laid bare.

“You know how I’m the whip? Because I’m not afraid to crack it and even more importantly, kick out the dusty rats out when they start to chew the wrong way. One word from me, and I’ll ensure that your next campaign can be funded by your own credit card and with enough challengers that your state will be flooded with ads pointing out each of your fuck-ups.”

At the debacle, Hans barely blinks an eye. He’s too loyal to his own professional persona as to let the mask crack; otherwise, he’d be laughing at it all.

“Bet you don’t hear that everyday,” he says, nonchalant. With a career as extensive as Jo Korbel’s, there is no such thing as a spotless image — and with the remarks she tends to make, especially so. Hans steps into her office, staring down at the shattered glass. All this mess, and they missed it. “Congratulations on your speech, Senator. A lot of Americans were quite invested in it, and the prospect of a real candidate stepping into the race.” His gaze drifts away from the flooring and the debris, shifting upwards as to meet her eye. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. You’re very expressive about all of your opinions, Senator, and we admire that.” We, a perfect stand-in for Oil. “Though of course, that raises the question on what you think about us.”

“Oh I do, just normally in whispers and angry letters. I like to think it a compliment, I’m important enough for people to hate.” Jo offered with a harmless shrug as she just swished back into her room, like a queen returning to her throne, as if it wasn’t covered in glass. She took her seat with guile, and yet as she sat straight-backed and staring at Hans there was a sense she was completely relaxed too, a readable sliver of a smile on her lips. She’d expected this little social call, and if she played it right, it was the start of the sails beneath her presidential wings. 

She reached under her desk and pulled out a fine crystal decanter, pouring two glasses without even asking. In politics, you learnt to read people and she knew Starke wasn’t one to refuse a glass of fine booze. She slid it across as he spoke about her speech. “You flatter me, Hans, I’m just making sure that the candidates really get a run for their money.”

“Take a seat Hans, I’m happy to answer whatever you wish.” Jo gestured to the seat before completely leisurely in her movements, like a senator from the Roman ages greeting a guest. One could half expect her in a toga and a servant feeding her grapes.

“I’ll keep it very simple to start. I am of course, very receptive to oil, it’s a great asset of our country. But I’m sure you want more than my words...”

Joe waves his fingers as the man is thrown out of the office and thinks: at least it’s not me. 

Many would cower in fear after disobeying the Jo Korbel but, despite himself, it’s his ironclad hubris that carries him all the way to her office with his head held high. 

“Like that’s new,” Joe replies, pushing himself off the wall. He reaches down and picks up a piece of glass. “You should send this back to him,” Joe grins, gently playing with the glass with his fingers as he takes one large step over the mess to approach Jo. “‘Down the road not across the street. Regards, Jo. Kiss kiss.’ Y’know, do him a favour.”

Joe fucking d'Amato. It was rare to get Jo actually angry, you have to care about said person to extinguish the effort to be angry at them, but Joe got her close. The irony that they shared a name wasn't lost on her either. The thankless fucker was closing in as the number one irritation of the Senate, which considering there was still a sizable number of Democrats was quite a feat. There's nothing she despised more than a limp-wristed Republican. Mostly because they were no better than pretenders, people called her a chancer but they missed the true snakes in the grass. Those who only paint themselves Republican due to demographics or family allegiance and then abandon everything their voters believe in. It was even more galling when said person went against her explicit orders as whip to not vote the damned legislature through.

So it was fair to say she hadn't invited him into her office for tea and biscuits. Her face however gave absolutely nothing away as she stepped within and listened to Joe's little joke with a smile. It was the kind of pull of the lips that contained with it absolutely no humor but instead was filled with a deep grinding sinister menace. It was the smile of a devil and Joe was walking into his new personal hell. If he thought the war was bad, Jo was going to ensure this would be worse.

"Careful now Joe, wouldn't want you cutting yourself..."

Jo took her seat without even waiting for the other Senator or gesturing for him to. She seemed so small in that big brown leather seat and yet at the same time, her presence seemed to fill out the rest, the bright sheen of perfectly permed yellow hair, the dagger glare of her eyes, the way her hands sat on the desk as if about to set out an evil plan. Perhaps she was. "Well I'm sure you understand that your recent behavior in the senate is why you are here."

“Do you often get unannounced visitors?” Natalie asks when Jo appears, her tone matching the other’s nonchalance. She stands up at the invitation, careful to avoid the glass, and follows her through the doors that the man had just barreled through, and was subsequently drug out of. Even if Natalie could’ve stopped him, she wouldn’t have– she’s had her fair share of the same kind of encounters, from The Witness and beyond. It’s so much more satisfying to see it happen to other people.

“Or is that an ex-husband I can profile?”

"About as many times as I get faux flour flavored anthrax in the mail." Jo offered back with a wry smile. She liked Natalie, well more than that she liked the Witness, but there was nothing more key to the heart of a paper than it's editor. You see, while many would hide away from making judgements or extrapolation from bare facts, they boldly go where none would go. Of course its because they're devoid of shame and don't really consider the tenants of journalism more than tissue paper to wipe their asses on, but that was besides the point. In the end, only they and Natalie were willing to put the middle finger up to anyone and everyone. Who didn't love that?

She stepped aside and let Natalie slip in before moving to her desk and gesturing the young editor to sit as well. Once she was seated, she slipped off her heels, crossing her legs and letting out a small laugh. "Unfortunately dear, my ex-husband is five feet under and rather unremarkable. That was a CV that didn't quite match the character."

"Thank you for sparing a moment Natalie, I'm sure with the race, your paper has been quite the busy bees." She reached into her draw and pulled out a decanter of bourbon, the brown liquid glistening under the crystal container. The senator's gleaming blue eyes kept the journalist's, and she tilted her head. "Would you like some?"

The shattering of glass startled her and she glanced up from her phone, patiently sitting in the waiting room, legs crossed.  She watched the whole scene of the man being escorted out of the building.  There was enough security on the intelligence campuses to stop anyone before they got to the turn tables, but she knew the rest of D.C. could easily lose its temper.  

Anne stood when Johanna lingered by the door, giving a little wave with her phone before she put it in her purse.  “A dictionary at their fingertips and they still can’t come up with anything better to call us than bitches,” she walked over, carefully treading around the glass as she entered the other woman’s office.  Closed the door behind her.

“So, a little whisper over an earpiece told me you were running,” she grinned.  Oh this would be interesting, she was waiting for someone to really challenge Bell and Church on the Republican side.  She’s seen Korbel move up over the years since they’d worked together (or on opposing sides) in Congress.  “Congrats, Jo.”  Anne glanced around the room, trying to find a dustpan or something, finally giving up and just grabbing a few tissues.  “And, here, I can help you clean up some of this.”  The big pieces, at least, she could start chucking in the trashcan.

“Don’t give them ideas Anne, heaven forbid they actually start using those brains of theirs.” Jo offered with a wry smile, stepping back to allow her old friend back in. Maybe friends was a push, they were acquaintances with history, and it lead to a natural rapport that honestly the senator missed ever since Anne was kicked out of her Senate post. Women in congress was hard enough already to find and in truth, Jo despised people removed not because of their work or failures but their identities. She was a lover of freedom and had her own sexual freedom as well, no too far from Anne’s. She could still remember reading the polls figures a few months before the election and picking up the phone to call.

It hadn’t been public support but sometimes the thoughts shared in private meant much more. In the years since they’d crossed paths and time but now Jo had other, more professional matters to address. At the mention of her own candidacy speech, the older lady couldn’t help but let the smile grow and shaking her head. “I should have known your lot had eyes and ears everywhere...” She paused and looked Anne properly in the eye, the words passing her lips the most honest for a while. “Thank you,..”

She moved to her desk and grabbed the bin beneath, moving it over and muttering a polite thanks to the cabinet member. Once it was clear of most of the bigger chunks, she patted Anne’s shoulder. “Leave the rest to the cleaners, come, sit, really please.”