Page 66 of Solo

And finally, on the far end of the table is a distinguished looking man in his early fifties. He’s tall and lean, with dark hair and blue eyes. There’s no mistaking who he is, and not just because of his reputation, but because of his striking resemblance to his daughter. I pull my phone out of my pocket and type in a text message.

I can’t believe how much you look like your father

Katherine isn’t here tonight, afraid that her father’s campaign people might take advantage of her presence for a family photo op. And, by the look of this three-ring circus, she was smart to skip it.

The man’s got 30 years and 60 lbs. on me. If that’s supposed to be a compliment, it’s a pretty lame one.

I chuckle at her response. This is about as intimate as we can be these days. We’ve managed to keep ourselves out of trouble mainly by avoiding one another—in person, anyway. Of course, I can’t avoid her in class. And that’s where we must be extra vigilant. So I keep my distance and act like the jerk that I am so no one will be the wiser.

I glance at my watch. This thing is about to get going and I won’t be able to text her once the lights go down.

I have to sign-off for now. Are you ready for your big dinner? Call me after?

I get a thumbs-down emoji as a response to the former, and a smiley face blowing kisses to the latter. She’s stressing about having dinner with her father later tonight. It’ll be the first time they’ve been alone together in a long time. Longer, I think, than she’s willing to admit to me. I’m starting to wonder if this asshole has spoken to his daughter at all since he kicked her out of the house at eighteen. Before I can get my blood pressure up thinking about it, the house lights dim and the moderator comes out on stage. I recognize him as John Lipinski, the Dean of the Shepherd University College of Political Sciences.

Lipinski throws out a few softballs to get the three politicians comfortable. But after that, all bets are off and he’s pulling out the big guns. This guy does not mess around. He stumps Congresswoman Pugliesi on her plan to address unemployment in Appalachia, one of the areas hardest hit by the economic downturn of the last ten years. One mention of her newly planned programs to extend unemployment benefits have the audience hissing. What she doesn’t get is that this community wants jobs, not handouts.

Lipinski moves on to Governor Little, confronting him about his multimillion-dollar highway project that’s had traffic outside of Charlotte snarled for close to two years, with no sign of relief on the horizon. More boos and hisses.

And then our moderator turns his attention to Senator Tucker the Fucker Brenner of Virginia. Having seen John Lipinski go right for the jugular with the previous two candidates, I know exactly what he’s going to ask before he even opens his mouth.

“Senator Brenner, you’re sitting in a theater. A theater on the campus of a university that has a strong tradition of arts education. How do you justify your stance on arts funding?”

The senator acknowledges Lipinski with a nod and then faces the cameras. He obviously knows what the other two don’t, that this town hall may be held in North Carolina, but his audience is much, much broader. He knows that his appeal has to be not just to this region, but to this entire country. Judging by the TV cameras, this little get-together is likely to end up on CNN, MSNBC, PBS and a dozen other configurations of alphabet soup.

“It is time,” he says, pounding his fist on the table for emphasis, “to stop wasting our limited resources on pretty pipedreams when so many more important departments need that precious funding. How can we support ballet dancers in tutus when there are children in this country who go to bed hungry every night? How can we fund pornographic so-called art work when so many of our citizens are without basic medical care? And what is the point of throwing money at an orchestra attended by the rich elite, when our schools are in crisis all over this nation?”

Even as a large contingent of the audience hisses and boos, I can see how this guy has managed to gain traction for his plan to discontinue all public funding of arts organizations. Dance companies, orchestras, theaters, and museums. None of them is safe under the Tucker Brenner Bill for Arts Funding Reform. The senator seems to be unfazed by the negative response to his words.

“Okay, I’m just going to come right out and ask you this, Senator,” Lipinski says. “Are you here to announce your bid for the presidency?”

The senator looks genuinely surprised by the question, though I’m sure he’s not. Good actor, though.

“No, I am not.”

Lipinski shrugs. “Then what are you doing here? On this tiny campus in the North Carolina mountains?”

“Well, it seemed to me to be a good opportunity to discuss my bill and my platform. And, as I’m quite sure you’re aware, my daughter is a student here.”

I sit up and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as if this will get me closer to the stage somehow.

“Yes, I am aware. Katherine is a graduate student here at Shepherd University.”

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Brenner confirms with a smile and a nod.

“And, as it also happens, she is about to graduate with a master’s degree in conducting. Is that correct, Senator?”

“Yes, John, she is.”

Lipinski holds up his hands toward the ceiling in a WTF? gesture.

“A tad hypocritical, don’t you think? Turns out your own daughter’s one of the ‘entitled dilettantes’ you like to shame so publicly.”

Oh. I do not have a good feeling about where this is headed.

“And, Senator, isn’t it true that she did this against your wishes?”

Suddenly appearing on a screen behind the three politicians is a picture of a newspaper article. There’s a horrific picture of Tucker Brenner caught during one of his fiery public appearances. His mouth is open, his eyes are wild, and his dark brows are drawn into almost a point. Whoever unearthed this particular photo chose well, it makes him look like Senator Satan himself.