"What the hell are you saying, O'Donnell?"
Bruce Romano bellowed into the phone, his ears not believing what he heard. Nervously, he looked around his office, grateful that everyone was gone but him. It was early in the morning and most of Chicago was starting to get snowed in. He had been here all night, checking and rechecking his figures and phoning all over the country to straighten this out. Pacing, the dark haired man of medium height adjusted his necktie as he held the cellphone to his ear. Stopping, he looked at a series of statements as he listened.
"Wait, the transfers were made, right? Ok..so what's the problem?"
Running his hand through a set of curly locks, Bruce shook his head as his brows came together in consternation. Although he was normally a level-headed man who never yelled, the new job he'd changed parties for and taken with a rising star in the Republican party, Julian Cesario, was starting to bring out a side of him he hadn't known existed. Because he was Julian's right hand man, he had the unpleasant task of overseeing all the campaign finances, scheduling every appearance, aggressively dealing with stubborn politicians and their staff, and making sure everything 'looked' right for this campaign. Tightly gripping the back of his chair, he growled in a low voice.
"Look, you told us these transfers would be secure and untraceable. We can't afford fuck-ups this close to the national fundraiser. How the hell did this happen?"
The muscular man rubbed his eye as he listened, not fully understanding all the lingo and complicated explanations he heard. Holding up his hand, Bruce spoke.
"Whoa whoa...listen, I don't care who you think is responsible or how you do it, I just expect you take care of it. Get Simmons on it too. No, no...I'll talk to him. You just fix this and make damn sure this doesn't happen again. Yeah, keep in touch."
As he clicked off the phone, he shook his head.
"Fuck."
"Fuck what? Or should I say, whom?"
The smooth, calm voice of his boss filled his office. Bruce slipped the phone into his suit coat pocket and smiled slightly as he took in the commanding presence of Julian Cesario standing just inside the office door. He wore a long, tailored navy wool overcoat which was open, his white stiff collared shirt standing out in contrast to his navy suit. A tie of royal gold completed his look. His hair was cut short, trimmed perfectly and he was clean shaven, his boyish face and square jaw suggested a youthful appearance. However, his posture and carriage spoke much more about Julian Cesario. He stood proud and confident, most of which was conveyed by a cool demeanor and look of calm control.
"I was just talking to the caterers for tonight's party."
Bruce watched as Julian slightly turned his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Shifting his briefcase to his other hand, his boss spoke in measured tones.
"Really. And just what needs to be fixed?"
Romano picked up a sheet of paper and came over to Julian, chuckling as he pointed to the words.
"Seems they planned on liver pate' for one of the appetizers instead of caviar. I know you want this reception to go perfectly."
Julian casually let his eyes glance down at the paper before bringing them up to meet Bruce Romano's. Shrugging out of his overcoat, he folded it neatly over his arm before giving a slight nod of approval. Turning, his boss spoke firmly over his shoulder.
"Meet me in my office in five. Don't be late."
And with that, Julian Cesario walked out of Bruce's office and down the hall towards his own, his wingtip shoes clicking neatly down the polished surface. Taking a deep breath, the campaign manager for the Republican candidate for mayor of the city of Chicago walked slowly over to his desk and deposited the catering menu, watching the piece of paper flutter to the dark wood. Looking down, he took the statement sheets in his hand and glanced over the numbers once again, his mind calculating and praying.
Julian's career depended on these pieces of paper. When Romano first took the job, it was because he knew success when he saw it. He had been an assistant to Mayor Daley when Julian Cesario met the mayor at a speaking engagement. Without so much as a formal introduction, Julian had strode up to him and pronounced that he would have his job and that it was his destiny. As much as Bruce wanted to laugh at the brazen confidence, he found himself intrigued at what Julian said, simply based on the arrogant young man's sureness and belief in himself. Julian had approached him after the event and offered him a job, then and there. And he took it.
It was crazy, but Bruce had found himself a star to hitch his wagon to and he was sure Julian would take him when he moved up. It seemed that Cesario had some grand plan of becoming mayor of Chicago and then running for governor of Illinois and then, president. He had risen through the ranks of the Republican machine, even becoming the youngest to serve at the National Committee meeting. His Northwestern political science education and his Harvard Law credentials assured the young politico a sure shot. And it assured the funding for his career.
Trying to wrestle the city from the entrenched Democrats and all of his other ambitions required substantial amounts of 'contributions' and financial support from within the city as well as across the country. Inside the Republican party, there was buzz on Julian, even Bruce heard it when he was just starting with Daley. Indeed, it was Romano's job to ensure the contributions kept coming and to make sure they were consistent with federal regulations, or at least appeared that way on the books. In this day and age, that often required backroom dealing and under the table 'arrangements'. Julian demanded this perfection and he didn't want to hear about things that went wrong; it was bad for morale. He wanted a well-oiled machine and campaign without any obvious improprieties or illegalities. In short, it was Bruce's job to take care of the nasty business of running a winning political campaign. With a sigh, Romano slipped the papers in his own briefcase and adjusted his tie, preparing for his meeting.
***
"Sit."
Julian was already seated behind his large oaken desk and motioned to a dark leather chair across from him. His employee, an ambitious man in his own right if not entirely trustworthy, seated himself and squared his shoulders. Julian leaned forward and steepled his fingers, his elbows resting on the immaculately clean desk. Outside the large windows, snow fell down through the tall buildings and swirled around, the wind starting to whip the white flakes around.
"Bruce, I've been thinking."
Julian eyed the dark haired man across from him. Bruce Romano was an efficient campaign director and he did his job well. Julian entrusted him with many of the inside machinations of running for office; it was like having a general in his army to oversee his troops while he was free to plan a strategy for knocking off Mayor Daley. It was time to make sure this general knew exactly what position he had. And it was time to test his loyalty. He smiled at Bruce and cocked his head to the side as he continued.
"You've been with me for, what? Six months now?"
Julian watched Romano nod and he smiled again.
"We've got a long road ahead of us. I need someone I can depend on, someone who will serve me well."
Reaching into his desk, Julian took out an envelope and slid it across the table, keeping his eyes focused on Bruce. Smiling, he watched as his assistant reached for the stark whiteness and opened it, his lightly bearded face peering down at the contents inside. Bruce lifted his head in question.
"I trust something like this will not get in our way."
Julian spoke smoothly as he observed the shade of red cross under the dark hair of Bruce's beard, up his neck and across his cheeks. Calmly, he pushed out his chair and sat back in the comfortable leather. One way to ensure loyalty among one's staff was to force it.
"Bruce, I want you to do something for me."