They walked into the larger office next to Tom’s, the one with a blackboard on which the daily tasks were written by some enterprising campaign staff member. Anyone who had extra time tried to tackle any of the tasks listed there. Today’s list included getting quotes for air time from various media outlets in the major metro areas. Some helpful soul had left some phone books, an empty McDonald’s bag, five million catsup packages, and a list of TV stations with lines drawn through them, quotes per minute of air time listed on the side, and a list of radio stations beneath those that hadn’t been touched.
“Looks like we’ve got radio,” Matt said, and tossed his stuff aside. “This is like searching for a needle in a haystack, you know,” he said to Grayson, shaking his head.
Grayson shook his head, too.
“I mean, here the party has hired that big-ass public relations firm out of L.A. Why don’t they get Gunter and his people to do this stuff?”
“Maybe he’s sick,” Grayson suggested.
“Maybe,” Matt said with a shrug. “Still seems to me there would be someone out there to do this grunt work instead of wasting our time with it, right?”
“Right,” Grayson emphatically agreed.
“Right on, bro,” Matt said with a wink. “But you have to play the hand you were dealt. So why don’t you sit over there and read your book while I make a couple of calls?” he suggested as he sat down and opened a phone book.
“But I don’t like this book anymore,” Grayson said.
Matt glanced up. “Okay, so . . . do you have another one?”
The kid shook his head.
“Toys?”
“Hot Wheels.”
Cool. Matt hadn’t seen a Hot Wheels in about twenty-five years.
“And Rescue Heroes.”
Dude, even cooler. “Okay. Why don’t you get them out?”
“They’re with my mom’s stuff,” Grayson said anxiously. “Can I go get them?”
“Sure,” Matt said, and Grayson instantly dropped his book and rushed out the door.
Matt had just dialed a local radio station when Grayson returned, backing into the room, dragging a huge bag. Matt ignored him, turning his back as he asked to speak to the sales department. From there he had an uninformative and thankfully brief conversation with the sales rep, wrote down some figures, and hung up. Only then did he look up and see what Grayson had brought. There were the Hot Wheels, lined up, bumper to bumper, by color. And the Rescue Heroes, which he had also lined up, like a little army on the edge of the desk.
And then there was the vacuum cleaner.
Matt closed his eyes, rubbed one, opened them again, and yessir, that was a toy vacuum cleaner. “What the hell?” he asked, pointing at the vacuum cleaner.
“My fackum cleaner,” Grayson said, looked at him with great expectation.
“No. No, no, noooo, kid,” Matt said, shaking his head as Grayson looked curiously at the vacuum cleaner beside him. “You can’t play with a vacuum cleaner. That’s a girl’s toy. Don’t you play boy games?”
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like . . . hunting for frogs, or digging holes. Don’t you do stuff like that with your friends?”
“You mean with Jo Lynn?”
“No, I mean with your pals.”
“I don’t have any friends where I live,” he said apologetically.
This wasn’t right, not right at all. She was going to warp a perfectly cool little kid and turn him into a girly man. Matt put his hands on his waist, stared down at Grayson. “What about your rescue guys?” he asked, gesturing at the four of them lined up there. Grayson followed his gaze and looked at them. “They hate vacuum cleaners, you know.”
“They do?”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt said, shrugging out of his coat and loosening his tie. “This is what they think of them,” he said, and walked around to the front of the desk, picked up the fireman, and dive-bombed him into the vacuum cleaner. Only he must have used a little too much force, because the piece of plastic snapped off.
But it made Grayson laugh, and he got the gist of the game, kicking the sweeper.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Matt said, and handed Grayson the paramedic Rescue Hero and blithely watched the kid go after it. In fact, he was having such a good time watching him that he didn’t hear Tom’s office door open, didn’t hear them at all until Rebecca exclaimed, “What are you doing?”
He and Grayson both jerked up, staring with horror at each other before turning toward the door where Rebecca was standing, gaping at what was left of that stupid cheap vacuum cleaner. Tom stood behind her, shaking his head. “That’s not cool, man.”
Rebecca looked at Matt with the same blue eyes that were haunting him on a fairly routine basis, looking for an explanation. “Okay,” he said, holding his hands out. “The vacuum cleaner doesn’t hold up to some army tactics. So, ah, what have you guys been doing?” Matt asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
Tom slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “That bingo thing was so great!” he declared. “I’ve asked Rebecca to set up a big star-studded fundraiser for me this summer. Statewide invites.”
Matt bent down to pick up the pieces of the vacuum cleaner. “A fundraiser?”
“Yeah. I’m thinking one with all the big stars of Texas, like Renée Zellwegger,” he said, and looked at Rebecca. “Do you think you can get Renée Zellwegger?”
“I’ve never met her—”
“Yeah, but maybe Bud or someone knows her. Maybe your dad?”