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1 1 By the time the general election watch party began, I was suffering from a severe case of sleep deprivation. That night was the first time Kate and I would reveal to her father, the governor of Oklahoma and Republican nominee for president, that we’d been dating for about a year behind his back—I’d wanted to tell him sooner, but Kate had refused, citing what my career as a professional poker player could mean for his campaign—and I hadn’t been able to sleep for nearly 72 hours straight fearing his reaction. Compounding this fear, unbeknownst even to Kate, I had an engagement ring locked in my safe at home and planned to ask possibly the next President of the United States if I could have his blessing to marry his daughter. I’d faced countless frightening propositions being a professional gambler, having tens of thousands of dollars, my entire bankroll, on the line and out of my hands, down to the luck of the final card, yet this was the most frightening thing I would ever have to do. Bar none. I was so tired I had to chug Red Bulls in order to stay awake. I was on my fifth in two hours and was so jumpy I flinched at people laughing or snaking their way through 2 the crowd or even if someone looked in my direction. Twice I’d almost caused a waiter to drop a tray of champagne because I hadn’t seen him and nearly fell over because he’d startled me. I paced to keep from shaking, eyes locked on the projection screen and the eight-feet-tall Wolf Blitzer as he read off exit poll numbers. The younger demographic— eighteen to twenty-five with zero to some college education—overwhelmingly voted for the President. Kate was making the rounds with her father, so I tried to stay to myself, but this proved difficult. More than five-hundred people attended, and they all roamed throughout the Skirvin Centennial Ballroom like lost children. Socialites with hair pinned up and oil and gas executives wearing ill-fitting, rented tuxedos. There was the campaign staff, about fifty-five in all. Legislators. Oklahoma Supreme Court Justices. Senators and lobbyists and governors. Anchormen and women conducting interviews. The catering staff carrying champagne, Secret Service, overpriced and nauseating perfume, roast beef, diamonds, an ice sculpture of Lady Liberty, a fifty-piece big band. The place practically swarmed with people. This was the first time I’d seen Kate work a room at a political function. Since we’d kept our relationship a secret, I’d never been invited to one of these events before. I’d often heard, however, how she hated them, calling the people who attended parasites sucking her father dry. Yet she performed to perfection, the epitome of a smiling and young politician’s daughter. The sound tech turned up the election coverage volume. Blitzer held his finger in his ear, listening to his producer, as he stood in front of an electronic map of the United 3 States. He turned toward the camera. “CNN can now make the first predictions of the night. Virginia and South Carolina will be won by Republican Governor Cook, giving him twenty-one electoral votes. The President has won New Hampshire and Vermont which totals seven electoral votes.” The ballroom erupted into cheers and hugs and toasts. These first results were a good sign, but it was too early to be celebrating. Anything could happen with presidential politics. The election probably wouldn’t be decided until early in the morning; every poll conducted, even Kate’s father’s, had shown this would be a tight race. The last had shown him two points ahead with a margin of error of three percent. But it was a national poll, only good for the popular vote and didn’t take into consideration the Electoral College. The Governor had strongholds in Texas and Pennsylvania, and the President in New York and California. If the Governor had any shot at all, he would have to take Florida and Ohio. I continued pacing, drank the remainder of my Red Bull, dodged the groups of three or four here and there talking about what needs to be accomplished as soon as Cook gets into office, “eliminate capital gains taxes,” “take a harder stand against Tehran,” “Like Cook said, ‘find a Secretary of Defense with a trigger finger that works,’” and headed for the concession table, chomped a few cheese cubes, not that I was hungry, but I hadn’t eaten a decent meal for days, grabbed some champagne, drank about half and poured some Red Bull into it. Tasted like a mimosa sort of. I had never been much of a drinker, but tonight I needed something, otherwise I would go crazy. Too much stress. Too much sugar. Too exhausted. 4 A hand gripped my shoulder, gave it a squeeze. Turning around, I found Governor Cook smiling at me. “Adam, right?” he said. Kate stood next to him, smiling and willing me to say something with her widening eyes. “Elijah actually.” I didn’t know what to do with my hands I was so nervous, so I placed them behind my back, which caused me to inadvertently spill a little of my drink. I could feel it dripping down the cuff of my pants. “Most people just call me Eli, though. But if you prefer Elijah, or even Adam I wouldn’t—” “Eli’s fine,” he said. Kate looked like she might burst out laughing at any moment, and I felt as though I might puke. “I’ve seen you around the office here. You volunteer, right?” “Yes, sir.” He was an intimidating figure, the Governor. Large in stature, yet he had this gentleness in expression that endeared him to everyone. A dimpled chin that despite his fifty-seven years gave off the appearance of youthful vigor. Hair that he oftentimes neglected to cut and sprouted over the edge of his ears, like tiny roots spreading. Deep, cavernous grooves in his forehead that gave him a thoughtful air. “I’m glad you could make it,” the Governor said. “And I really do appreciate all your hard work on the campaign, but I must admit, though; I’m a little surprised to see you here.” “Sir?” “Volunteers don’t usually—I mean this is an invitation only soirée as it were.” 5 “I—I,” I was waiting for Kate to jump in at any moment, explain that she’d invited me, to save me from this embarrassment, but she simply stood there, smiling as I squirmed. “I snuck in. Sorry. I could leave if—” “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary.” The Governor chuckled. “I admire your honesty, but I think I will have a conversation with security. Excuse me for one moment?” I nodded, and the Governor disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Kate by my side. “You look like shit,” Kate said as she straightened my lapels and bowtie. “Like Ted Kennedy after a trip to Vegas. And this jacket,” she laughed, “the sleeves are like an inch too long.” “What was that?” “What was what?” “That! Leaving me for dead out there, Jesus.” Kate laughed, covering her mouth, a habit formed because she was embarrassed of the dimpled chin she’d inherited from her father. “Oh come on; that was funny.” “That certainly was not funny.” She held her thumb and index finger a centimeter apart. “Maybe just a little?” “I thought we were going to tell him tonight?” “Relax,” she said. “We will. Just afterward, all right? When all of this nonsense is over.” “Okay, whatever you think is best.” 6 “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have—” Kate peered over my shoulder. “Oh God, please no.” I looked behind me, and here came Donna England, the perky blond from Channel 5, the local NBC affiliate, heading our way with her signature red lipstick and microphone leading her to us like a tractor beam. We tried to slip away, but her cameraman flanked us. “Kathryn Cook, how does the Governor view these early results?” “You should ask him, Donna, not me. I must be going.” “Please, I only have a few questions.” “I’m just his daughter, Donna, you know that. Go find Barry. He’ll gladly give you a sound bite.” “I would, believe me,” she said. “But I can’t break through the perimeter.” She motioned toward the Governor’s campaign manager in the middle of the ballroom. He was surrounded by reporters, TV cameras, and microphones. “Fine,” Kate told Donna. “But just a couple.” “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She motioned for the cameraman to start rolling, patted her pinned up hair, and said, “You there,” meaning me, “Get out of the shot.” When I moved, she faced the camera and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Kate. “Standing with me now is Kathryn Cook, the First Daughter of Oklahoma. I so appreciate you taking a few moments out of this momentous occasion to speak with us Ms. Cook, and I know our viewers do as well.” 7 “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing them, Donna. Or you for that matter. Not in a million years.” Donna hesitated, sensing Kate was being sarcastic despite her tone seeming sincere. “Ms. Cook, your father has enjoyed some early victories. How do you see the election going from here?” “I think it’s a long way from over, Donna. It’s been a tough, hard-fought campaign on both sides.

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