21
If I’m Going Down, You’re Coming with Me
If I had my way, I would simply crawl into a cave and never give a speech again. But since Logan had signed me up to speak at the teachers union march, here I was, sweating on yet another stage. Thank God for Muriel Lopez, the one-woman hype machine. She’d brought her whole family to the march—husband, kids, cousins, even her tiny dog, clutched to her husband’s chest. A whole army of Lopez supporters in the audience. While Gia and her husband had arrived dressed sensibly in blue-and-white TEA sweaters, Muriel and her family had gone for drama: makeup, glitter, a banner, the whole nine yards. Buried under about twelve feet of scarves, Muriel wore an official licensed Logan Arthur for Governor T-shirt, and the rest of her family wore unofficial, unlicensed Muriel Lopez for President T-shirts. Every time I hit a pause in my speech, they cheered me like I was Oprah giving away free cars. It was thanks to them that I was getting through this.
“Let’s acknowledge the truth,” I said, eyes tracking over the crowd. People filled Eleventh Street, stretching as far as the eye could see under the cloudless late-September sky, holding signs that said Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is, Texas and Teachers Deserve a Living Wage. The campaign and the TEA had done a hell of a job organizing. The campaign had set up what Nora called a “publicity gauntlet” the week before the march to hype it. I had to ask Principal Zimmerman for permission to miss school so Logan and I could do back-to-back interviews about our education plan. In the mornings, we hit radio shows, drinking coffee with velvet-voiced emcees; in the afternoons, we sat down with newspaper journalists, who paused their fervent Twitter scrolling to ask us questions; and in the evenings, we smiled for the cameras with preening TV anchors.
It was a whirlwind that would have dizzied me if not for my own anchors: Logan, who was a grounding presence next to me in every interview; Nora and Cary, who dutifully hung in the wings, clutching phones and Starbucks cups; and Nigel, who drove us around town while reciting the day’s forecast. By gauntlet day five, when Nora checked to see how I was doing, I told her the five of us had started to feel like an eccentric little family. She’d nodded knowingly and told me what I was describing was called proximity bonding, commonly experienced by kidnapping victims. Then she’d laughed at the look on my face and assured me that we were, in fact, a family.
Now here I was, delivering the speech I’d spent all week hyping. (No pressure.) “Politicians have ignored educators for years,” I told the crowd. “They’ve taken away retirement benefits, cut workforce numbers, and let salaries flatline.” The crowd roared its agreement, and I silently thanked the speechwriter on Logan’s team who’d convinced me to go with flatline. Drama seemed to be a winner.
“Most politicians talk a good game about supporting teachers and students, but what do we actually have to show for it?” I looked into the front row where Logan stood, tall and dark and dashing in a navy blazer. He grinned up at me, shielding his eyes against the sun. Truth be told, he came in a close second to Muriel as an ideal audience member.
I glanced at my notes. “That’s why I’m honored to introduce someone who will change teachers’ and students’ lives for the better.” This was off-script, and Logan was already being shepherded to the stage by his security team, but I added, “He’s a man who wants nothing more than to make life better for his fellow Texans. I believe in him, and I hope you do, too.”
On my right, Logan stepped onto the stage.
“Logan Arthur, everyone!”
The crowd cheered and Logan waved. I clutched my notes, thrilled to be done, and beelined in his direction. When we met, he folded me into a giant hug like the campaign team had instructed. Performance or not, I breathed a deep sigh of relief as his arms closed around me. He hugged me tight.
“I would follow you anywhere,” he whispered, his lips brushing my cheek, and then he was striding forward and waving at the crowd.
The words rooted me for a moment before I shook myself and scurried as gracefully as possible off stage. Security guards hovered, guiding me down the stairs and around the back where the rest of the speakers stood. As I thanked them and settled in to watch Logan on one of the monitors, my phone lit with a text from my mom.
I’m spending my day prepping for my commercial (still no word from Lee) and watching you on TV! You were amazing. I’m so proud. And you and Logan looked so romantic on stage. I’m dying to know what he whispered in your ear!
I smiled to myself. He said he would follow me anywhere.
Immediately, the little dots started bouncing. Oh, my, she wrote. That’s even better than I imagined.
I looked up at Logan’s face on the monitor. He was, wasn’t he?
“Hey-o, Alexis Stone, nice to meet ya.”
I turned to find two men my mother’s age walking over. They were both on the short side, but while one was balding, the other had long hair that made him look like a hippie. In a flash, I placed them from those TEA pamphlets that got mailed to my apartment every month: It was Sonny Yarrow, president of the teachers union, and Kai West, secretary-treasurer.
“Oh my gosh.” I stuck out my hand. “Sonny and Kai. It’s an honor to meet you.” My students might worship Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande, but I was looking at my celebrities. These were the two men in charge of sticking up for Texas teachers, which basically made them heroes, in my opinion.
Sonny, the one without the hair, gave my hand a brief pump. Long-haired Kai said, “I don’t shake at these things. Too many germs.”
“Oh.” I yanked my hand back. “Of course.” After a beat where they looked at me expectantly, I added, “Thank you for agreeing to hold this march with us. I’m a huge fan of the work you do.”
“That’s great,” Kai said. “Listen. What do you think the odds are Arthur actually follows through on these promises?”
I searched his face, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, I swallowed my surprise. “I think the odds are a hundred percent.” I nodded at the screen. “He wouldn’t be up there if he wasn’t invested.”
“Ha,” Sonny laughed. “You’re cute, doll. Now give it to me straight. When your guy says he’s going to expand salaries, that’s going to be on a weighted basis, right?”
I frowned. “What do you mean, weighted?”
“Obviously the people at the top of the ecosystem have been working on this issue the longest,” Kai said smoothly. “It’s only fair they get a bigger cut of any new money.”
Did Kai mean him and Sonny? “Um...”
“Let’s make a deal,” Sonny said, reaching in his pocket and producing a business card. “My cell’s on the back. You’re one of us. A union gal. Why don’t you keep us in the loop about Arthur’s thinking, huh? Can you do that for us? We can make it worth your while.”
I could practically feel the oil dripping from my hand as I took Sonny’s business card. “I’ll think about it.”
Thunderous applause came from the crowd. On the monitor, Logan smiled and waved as he turned and walked off stage.
“Looks like we’re up,” Kai said, straightening his TEA polo.
Sonny pointed at me. “Think about it.” Thankfully, the security team descended to usher them on stage. As they passed Logan, they shook hands quickly, clapping each other on the back, and then Logan strode toward me, face lit up.
“Did you hear that shout out I gave Muriel at the end?” He practically bounced with excitement, looking over his shoulder as if he could see Muriel from here. “Her whole family went nuts.”
“I was a little busy talking to Sonny and Kai.” Whoever said don’t meet your heroes was right.
“What’s wrong? You’ve got that look you get when something’s eating you.”
“Are Sonny and Kai terrible?” I burst.
Logan frowned at the monitor, where the two of them took turns addressing the crowd. “I wondered if it was just me. Sometimes people are slimy when they think I can do something for them.”
“They were so...transactional.” That was the kindest way I could think to frame the two men who were supposedly our biggest allies.
Logan nodded, brow furrowing. “Most union leaders I’ve met are great. Really selfless. These two...let’s keep an eye on them.”
“Mr. Arthur!” someone shouted. “Hey, Mr. Arthur, it’s Caleb Gruber, ABC 24. Do you have a minute?”
We turned to find the young reporter from our first press conference—the one who didn’t look a day older than sixteen—standing on the other side of the barricades next to a TV crew. He waved rather desperately. Immediately, the security guards hustled over.
“I just want a quick interview with you and Alexis!” shouted Caleb. He was hidden behind a guard’s chest. “My boss said not to bother coming back unless I got you for the five o’clock.”
Logan looked at me and sighed. “Want to save a reporter’s day?”
I hit him on the shoulder. “Of course I do. Where’s that famous empathy for the working class?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “Reporters don’t count.” But he was already walking up to the guards. “Kyle, Steve, it’s okay. We’ll give him five minutes.” The security guards backed off and Logan crouched under the barricade, then lifted it so all I had to do was duck.
“Thank you so much,” gushed Caleb the baby-faced reporter. He turned to his camera crew. “Ready to rock?”
“Ready to roll,” confirmed the giant, grizzled man behind the video camera. I stifled a laugh. It might’ve been all the middle grade fiction I read, but I’d always found motley crews endearing.
“Should I put my arm around you for the camera?” Logan whispered.
“Probably.”
He drew me against his side, arm circling my waist. I slipped my arm around him, too, feeling his solidness. We inched nearer until we were as close as humanly possible, touching from head to foot. His hand found mine and we laced our fingers together. There. Good. It was convenient how perfectly we fit. As friends, I reminded myself. You never knew when having a friend who fit you so comfortably you could melt against him would come in handy. Music festivals, definitely. Sporting events. Long lines at airports.
“I’m Caleb Gruber,” Caleb said into the camera, and right, we were rolling. “Here at the capitol with gubernatorial candidate Logan Arthur and his girlfriend and campaign partner, Alexis Stone, who—” Caleb winked. “He’s holding on to pretty tightly.”
“You have to soak up the opportunities you’re given,” Logan said.
“Speaking of the two of you.” Caleb’s voice turned brusque. “Logan, you’ve really jumped into the issue of education reform. Is it fair to say credit goes to Alexis for getting you to pay teachers some attention?”
Okay, fresh-faced Caleb had come to play.
Logan grinned and hugged me tighter. I squashed the urge to tell Caleb the grin meant he should run. “Since you covered my benefit for teachers a year ago, Caleb, I’d say you probably know this issue has been important to me for some time.”
Caleb’s eyes widened. Logan winked. “I remember you were enjoying the open bar that night. And did I hear something about you and the NBC 17 anchors doing karaoke after? Something about a video?”
“Uh—” Caleb did not like Logan’s receipts.
“With that said—” Logan waved a hand “—all credit does go to Alexis. She’s the reason education has become so central. In fact...” This time, he directed his smile down at me. I looked up in time to catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. “You could say she’s the entire reason we’re here today.”
All right. Logan thought he was very smart. It was obvious from the delighted look on his face. But two could play this game.
“Logan’s being modest,” I said, and Caleb jerked the microphone in my direction. Beside me, Logan tensed. “He’s constantly expanding his platform to include important new issues.” I pulled back to grin up at him. His returning smile was forced. “In fact, because of his lifelong commitment to protecting animals, Logan just agreed to appear in a commercial to promote a new no-kill animal rescue called Happy Homes. He told me he felt it was only right to put his name and face on the line.”
I’d finally stumped him. Logan’s face was so frozen that when this clip went online, people would check their buffering.
“He’s so excited he barely has the words,” I told Caleb, whose eyes darted back and forth between us.
Logan finally unpaused, giving the camera one of his patented grimace-smiles. “I’m always happy to support a worthy cause.” Each word sounded like it cost him.
“Well, viewers, you heard it here first!” As weird as we were being, Caleb at least seemed happy to get a scoop for the five o’clock news. “Logan Arthur adds animal rights to his long list of causes. We’ll watch out for what’s sure to be a star-making turn in his Happy Homes commercial. Back to you in the studio, Roger!”
The lights in the camera went off and the grizzled cameraman spun away. I could tell Logan wanted to have some choice words with me, but he was hampered by the fact that Caleb had pounced, begging him to reveal the location of that karaoke video.
“Got to go,” I called, and Logan’s eyes widened. “Caleb, thanks for the time. Logan, see you later!”
“No, Alexis—” Logan bit off what he was going to say with a quick glance at Caleb. I winked, spun, and started pushing my way through the crowd. Ante upped, Logan.
Just as I spotted Muriel and her family in the madness, my phone flashed with a new text. It was my mom in all caps, followed by a string of heart-eyes.
LOGAN’S GOING TO STAR IN MY COMMERCIAL?!!!