Page 36 of See You Next Tuesday

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Kira was an easygoing boss, but she liked to start meetings promptly, so they were all in the conference room by nine on the dot, sitting at their long white table. Gabe was the last to slip into the room, and of course the only open seat was directly across from Anya. She couldn’t help scowling as he sat down.

“What’s with you?” he asked. “Did you oversleep?”

“Excuse me?”

Gabe shrugged. “You come in late, you look mad about something, just a guess.”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “First of all, I wasn’t late, and second—”

“Okay!” Kira tapped the table a couple of times to start the senior staff meeting—though “senior” was something of a misnomer, as no one in the room was older than thirty-five. “We’ve got a busy couple of days before the boss heads to DC, and Rasmussen is putting a new poll in the field later this week, so I don’t want any unforced errors.”

“Speaking of DC, can we settle our recommendation on the immigration vote?” Simone asked. “It’s gonna be a shitstorm for me either way, so I want to get ahead of it.”

“Let’s put that to bed right now,” Kira agreed. “Dale, where are we on that issue data?”

Dale looked up from his laptop—at twenty-four, he was the youngest person on senior staff, so he tended to stay silent in meetings unless called on. But he was one of Anya’s favorite people on the campaign: a baby gay, total math genius, and one of Jo’s former students from her prior career as a middle school history teacher. He loved Jo more than anyone else on the team, which was saying something, as Anya had never worked for a more adored candidate in her life.

“Um yeah, immigration has come up on doors some, but where it’s a really big problem is on the persuasion calls,” he said. “Independents are definitely worried that Jo is soft on the border.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.” Gabe’s expression was serious. “It would be one thing if the bill had a shot in hell at passing, but why would Jo risk alienating moderates for a protest vote? It’s not worth it. She can’t vote for the bill.”

“It’s not a protest vote, it’s an accomplishment,” Anya argued. “Jo worked her ass off to get that bill out of committee—”

“So she’s already on record as being in favor of it,” Gabe shot back.

“I think Gabe has a point, but what’s Jo supposed to do, reverse her own vote?” Simone asked. “People may not agree with her stance, but they’ll hate her more for being a hypocrite. It’s lose-lose.”

“I actually have a solution to that part of the problem.” Gabe looked a little excited now. “To the whole problem, maybe.”

“What’s that?” Kira asked.

“I just heard from Preethi—Brent Hogan wants to have Jo on his show.”

“No way!” Kira’s jaw dropped, and everyone else reacted similarly. Even Anya had to admit this was a coup. Hogan might be a misogynist piece of garbage, but his podcast reached millions of people every day. If Jo could convert some of them into supporters, let alone donors, it could be huge for the campaign.

“But wait,” Anya interjected. “What does that have to do with the immigration vote?”

“He wants to interview her on Thursday. In Texas.” Gabe leaned back, satisfied.

“So she misses the vote to do the interview.” Kira nodded slowly. “That could work.”

“No it couldn’t!” Anya sputtered. “What about our donor base? Our volunteers? All the people who support Jo because she’s a progressive champion—do you think they’ll empathize with Jo selling out one of her core issues to go chat with some transphobe? Not to mention our allies! MoveOn, the Nevada Fed, Voto Latino—”

“I can handle our allies,” Simone said. “I don’t think they’ll see this as a betrayal. They want Jo to win. They know where she stands.”

“Sure, until she gets invited on a podcast, and then she stands somewhere else,” Anya sniped.

“Anya, Jo can make more of a difference on immigration talking to Hogan’s millions of listeners than she can voting for a bill that won’t pass. Skipping the vote is the smart thing to do.” Gabe’s tone was so condescending it drove Anya insane.

“It’s the spineless thing to do,” Anya gritted. “And it completely ignores why people love our candidate. She doesn’t run from a fight.”

They all stared at one another for a second, unsure how to proceed. Anya hated meetings like this.

“Wow, who killed the vibe in here?”

They all turned to see Jo Sessego leaning in the doorway, sipping a mug of coffee, looking effortlessly perfect in faded jeans and a dark green blazer. She was average height, but people always mistook her for tall—she had that energy. She had long black hair streaked with gray, olive skin, and a bright, easy smile. She wasn’t beautiful, exactly; she was something better. She was magnetic.