The Phoenix Campaign (Grace Colton Book 2) by Heidi Joy Tretheway Page B

I am empty.
    “That’s all I’ve got so far,” I confess. It isn’t enough. It isn’t good enough.
    Trey tents his fingers and rests his chin on them. “Where’s your story, baby girl? The Grace behind all of the laws and proposals?”
    “They know all that.”
    “I don’t,” Joel chimes in. “I mean, I know your background a little. But I didn’t hear you connect with it. It sounded like a politician’s regular bullshit.”
    Trey’s brows shoot skyward, shocked by the directness of Joel’s critique. But Joel isn’t cowed by the look and instead laces his fingers through Trey’s. They’re together in this.
    I wish Jared were holding my hand like that right now.
    Personal. That’s what this speech needs to be. It’s about connecting people—a couple of thousand from Trey’s high school to the personal tragedies scattered among them.
    If they can’t feel for the dead, maybe they can feel for the living. The left behind.
    “I think I know where I need to go with this.” I offer Joel a warm smile. “Thanks for listening. You heard what I needed to say through all my bullshit.”
    “I’m pretty good at listening to bullshit,” Joel counters, nudging Trey in the ribs. “The trick is, these kids can smell it a mile away. You show up and give them bullshit, they’ll tune you out. Give them the real you and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

    Political consultants say there are six stages in every candidate’s journey.
    Jared waxes philosophical at the end of our long, long day, when we close the miles between us with a phone call. I missed my chance to tell him I’m pregnant because he’s on the road again after less than twenty-four hours inside the Beltway.
    I curl up to the rich timbre of his voice.
    “First there’s The Introduction,” Jared says, and I snuggle up on my couch, sip my Sleepy Time tea, and enjoy playing student to this man who has made politics his life’s work. His passion.
    “For Sarah Palin, it was her line at the convention. She said, ‘You know the difference between a hockey mom and a bulldog? Lipstick.’ And that was the moment when America got her.”
    “Was mine when Shep announced me at the convention?”
    “No, it was before. The Introduction’s style over substance. It’s when you make your first lasting impression. When the photos came out and theRick Knox interview aired—and you shot a cannonball through Darrow’s campaign— that’s when people sat up and started paying attention.”
    “What’s next?”
    “The Measure. The second stage is the only one when substance trumps style. You’ll see reporters try to undermine a freshly minted candidate with hard, policy-wonk questions.”
    I hmm in recognition. “That’s why you drilled me so hard up front. Why you wanted me to know everything, right away.”
    “Right. At this stage, the press doesn’t really care about the answers. They just want to measure a candidate’s intellect and accomplishment. And if they can make you look like a dumbass, they call it a win.”
    I groan. “Great. Why didn’t you tell me it would be so much fun before you signed me up?”
    “Because it is so much fun.” Jared chuckles. “The third stage I call ‘Miss Congeniality.’ People decide whether you’re likable, if they want to put up with you for four years or more. They want to identify with you and they also must be intrigued enough to keep watching.”
    “Intrigued? I’m not a mystery.”
    “But you should be. John McCain had that nailed. His whole backstory, how he came back from being a prisoner of war. That’s intrigue.”
    “But he was up against Obama. And he lost.”
    “Obama had even more intrigue. Even with boring Biden on the ticket, Obama had enough intrigue and likability to beat what both McCain and Palin brought to the table. Compared to other elections, 2008 was dynamite. Most fun I’d had in years.”
    “So I’ve got to have intrigue. You don’t think being a