Booktree.ng_Forgotten-Witness

were an ordinary napkin. Ambrose was enchanted the way one
might be when a particularly beautiful dancer falters on stage
and goes on without embarrassment.
“What does she want?” Ambrose asked.
“She wants you to talk to Tom Critchfield and have him
shoot some transportation bucks her way. It wouldn’t have to
be much. A hundred million.”
“And in return I would get what?”
“Her undying support for your presidential run.”
Lydia turned her head. That gorgeous, perfectly formed face
of hers wore an expression more suited to a gambler with a
good hand than a trophy wife.
“I don’t need it,” Ambrose reminded her.
“True,” Lydia agreed, “but she’s part of the women’s caucus
and you know they’ve been having second thoughts about
you.”
“I don’t know why,” Ambrose objected.
“Oh, honey, everyone on the hill knows Sylvia Dias’s
people have done everything but bought a bed and spread her
legs for you and you haven’t given her a second look. She’s
the only one who has any viability as a VP and you act like
she’s the last person you’d invite to the prom. And don’t you
think I know, honey, that you had Eugene leak a short list two
weeks ago? Undisclosed source, my ass. There wasn’t one
woman on it even as a nod.”
Lydia threw her legs over the side of the sofa, shot the rest
of her brandy, put the glass on the table, and planted her feet.
“I don’t know why you won’t do it. Far be it from me to
lobby for someone just because we are the same sex. Most
women in politics are idiots, but it only makes sense to look at
a one for the ticket. You’d make history with a woman VP and
it’s not like a woman could hurt you, Ambrose. Every damn
poll shows you winning by a landslide. Why not bring a honey
along for the ride?”