The Art Of The Next Best Page 2

  Let Downtown, City Hall and Back Bay tell themselves whatever they wanted, but there were three nexuses of power in Boston: Dorchester, West Roxbury (never to be confused with Roxbury) and South Boston. (Politics 101: areas with the biggest voter turnout wins.) Maybe South Boston didn’t always turn out for the best reasons but turn out they did. And when they did, for the last fifty years, they turned out for a Donnelly if one was running.

  John Matthew Donnelly has been a supporter of Edward Brooks, the state’s first African-American Senator. His son John Christopher, a State Senator, had felt that both Governor Dukakis and Mayor Green were selling Boston out and allied himself with the politicians who fought integration tooth and nail. He embraced Fletcher’s campaign for mayor, but stepped down right at the time Cervino came to power.

  John “Jack” David Donnelly went to law school, worked in his father’s law firm and made noises about “neighborhood schools”, but otherwise looked like he was on track to become Massachusetts Attorney General. His record as a U.S. Attorney earned him a lot of praise from both sides of the aisle, and it was an open secret that the AG had offered him a job. But then he surprised everyone and ran for City Council.

  The Boston Globe wasn’t what it had been for a decade, but it was still the place to turn to for facts. If you wanted gossip and rumors, the place to go was the Boston Herald.

  The Herald had remarked, with their usual snark, that while Donnelly seemed to be a shoe-in during his first run, he was spending as little money and time campaigning as he could. “Only a name like Donnelly in today’s South Boston could get away with the phoned-in campaign Jack Donnelly is mounting. Someone even said that they’d send a life-size picture of his father over in his place. Doesn’t seem to be hurting him.”

  “Donnelly Junior has miraculously avoided being asked why he’s running,” another piece read. “Might that have something to do with the fact that Donnelly Senior has been making phone calls himself before all interviews and ordering journalists to stay focused on the issues? If you don’t realize that Senior is the man behind the curtain, promise to bring someone with you when you see The Wizard of Oz for the first time. I wouldn’t want the movie to scare you too much.”

  Martin came away from the pages he read in the Herald convinced that Donnelly ran—and won—because his father had wanted him to. Some people, he supposed, could make a dynasty work better than others. Some might have argued that it was his birthright to be the president of the City Council.

  But mayor? The Donnellys were judges, representatives, senators and city councilors, but none of them had ever been mayors. If Fletcher hadn’t been offered the ambassadorship to the Vatican, there was every reason to believe that he might have helped ease John Christopher into his seat during the next cycle. But on this Donnelly Senior never said a word. He was clearly too old for a run now, but unlike old soldiers, ambitions don’t fade away; they’re just transferred.

  What might have happened if Donnelly hadn’t run for mayor during the same cycle that David Hwang had? David Hwang didn’t do politics nearly as well as the Donnellys, but from his first run for City Council it was impossible not to be charmed by the intelligent and earnest young man who had worked to make life better for people left behind by the New Boston. He was the technocrat savior. So what did that leave Donnelly? Being cast as Cervino-Lite.

  No matter how much he read, Martin still didn’t understand why Donnelly had chosen that cycle to run. Yes, Cervino had made it clear that he was going to run for a historic fifth term, but after that there had been whispers that even the Globe had picked up that he looked favorably at transitioning the office to Donnelly. There was only one explanation that made any sense to Martin: someone thought Hwang had a really good shot at a win.

  From his first class as a freshman Poli-Sci major, Martin had understood that politics was rarely about policy. So it didn’t matter that Donnelly’s proposals were milquetoast pitches married to reform rhetoric. Yes, he wanted to change the schools—every mayoral candidate for the last sixty years had wanted to change the schools—and yes, he promised to blow up Cervino’s stronghold, the Boston Redevelopment Authority—but he didn’t make noise about any of his other proposals, including increasing the youth street workers’ budget, investing in community center and library upgrades and increasing access for community outreach workers. David Hwang may have had brilliant, revolutionary ideas, but Jack Donnelly knew where pieces of the system could be best tweaked.

  A union between the two could have worked, but Boston didn’t have a precedent for a co-mayor, and when that was suggested by Donnelly after Hwang lost the primary by half a percentage point, it reeked of desperation. That was...odd. To the untrained eye, it looked as if Donnelly was trying to lose.

  ~~~

  The rule was that if you were going to run for mayor, you had to give up your council seat. The upshot during that cycle was that there were now two seats to be filled, and Paloma Castillon easily filled one of them. Before the last mayoral race, it was as if she didn't exist; then she was everywhere, feted by women's groups, Progressive Democrats and even the state's Democratic Party. Her win was as impressive as David Hwang's, but at least Martin knew whose head David had jumped out of.

  Professor Marguiles sat with his arms crossed as Martin gave his bi-weekly update on his research progress. "And now you want to know where Castillon came from?"

  "This much I know: she started school here, then she dropped out. And it was night school. She disappears for about six months, then she's working for a Fitzgerald. That job lasts for a little while, then she's in Senator Kelly’s office. Kind of a big leap in title, and then a bigger leap a few years later."

  "But?"

  "But those are the kind of jobs you get after you've been an intern for a few cycles, if you're politically connected or if you graduated with at least a Bachelor’s. And none of that applies. I might not be so fascinated if it weren't so hard to figure out," Martin confessed. "I've even looked at the Chicago papers, and I can't find anything, really, before her first run."

  "You know she didn't graduate with a degree, and you know she wasn't an intern. How do you know she wasn't connected?"

  "She grew up in the projects of inner city Chicago."

  "Did she now?" Marguilles' beard did a lousy job of hiding his smile. "You know who that reminds me of? The governor."

  Martin cursed himself when he looked over Governor Kirk's file. Why hadn't he seen it before? Because, like everyone else, when he thought of the governor, he thought about his association with that other guy from Chicago: the President of the United States. Martin raised an eyebrow, but quickly ruled it out: Chicago may have been the place that molded him, but that was after he was an adult with a law degree under his belt. And he may have been a community organizer, but by the time he got that job Castillon was sitting in Kelly’s office...

  Martin looked through his records, just to confirm what he already knew. There was Alex's name in the donor lists for Castillon, Kirk and Kelly. He pulled up the lists for all of the groups who had put Castillon's name on Boston's map. There he was as well.

  Did Castillon know that she, like almost everyone else in Boston politics, was Alex Sheldon's creature?

  He couldn't stop himself from discussing Donnelly with Jessie. "Yeah, sounds like he wanted to go back to law," Jessie said nonchalantly.

  "Huh?"

  She shrugged. "He might have had a chance at winning if he had run a strong campaign, but he didn't reach out beyond his power base. Not in any way that counted. What was the only thing he could count on? That he was going to have to give up his seat, and the only way he could do it and not have his dad to worry about was by pretending to run for mayor."

  "Then why is he running for the Council again?"

  Jessie laughed, shook her head and kissed Martin as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Because his dad isn't stupid."

  Martin groaned and kissed her back. "Basically you want to marry
me so I can be your trophy husband, right?"

  "Basically," she whispered as she kissed him again.

  But was that all of it? Because no one had to declare as early as Donnelly had, and this time it looked like Donnelly had something to say.

  "This administration has made sure that Roxbury got the development dollars that it's been missing since at least the Seventies. No one begrudges them that, but those of us who are watching are very concerned that while the School Department gets a new building and a local supermarket is upgraded to the point that it rivals the Whole Foods on Beacon Hill, we do not see the changes being made for affordable housing. The two and a half million dollar condo is not going to be inhabited by the people already living there. Roxbury- and the rest of Boston- should welcome new residents, but there is a way to keep the old residents while they come in. It's a shame this administration has chosen not to pursue that. As a lifelong resident of South Boston, I urge people to look at how we have changed and ask if there wasn't a way that could have been done better."

  To the untrained eye, it looked as if Donnelly had something to say to his father as well. He would run if he must, but this time he'd do it his way.

  Donnelly's platform on education surprised Martin too. "Let's be real: our system isn't serving our children. What is the point of sending our children from one badly performing district to another? Racial diversity? Then why is it that so many of our classrooms still manage to be segregated? Why is it that our black and Latino boys are being sent to special needs classes before they and their sisters drop out of the system for good? That's a problem, and it's one we should be solving as a community. But when parents are working more than one job and kids are leaving at six in the morning and then getting home at five in the evening, where is the community and when are they supposed to meet to arrive at the solutions they need to get to?"

  Martin didn't want to see Boston go back to segregated schools, but his gut told him that Donnelly wasn't calling for an updated Separate But Equal, especially when he looked at the stats for South Boston.

  "I think I want to work for Jack Donnelly," Martin blurted out one evening.

  "Yep," Jessie said as she continued reading her textbook.

  "I mean, I think I want to stop going to school and work for Donnelly."

  "Yeah, I know," she said without looking up.

  "And...you don't care?"

  Jessie sighed and closed her book. "Is it going to make you feel like you're doing something for the good guys so you can help screw Alex when he gets back someday?"

  Martin was taken aback. "I—how did you—"

  "Babe, you're looking at who's funding Boston politicians. Was that supposed to be hard? And Donnelly's the only good guy left since that coward Hwang disappeared."

  "You think he's a good guy?"

  Jessie scoffed. "You know—as politicians go."

  Martin wasn’t insulted. The world was an imperfect place and settling for the lesser of two evils could be a worthy goal. Science was in the details; the art was in deciding which details worked best together. Martin always knew that he was more of a scientist than an artist, but he had learned enough to be of use to a Great Master.

  Donnelly wasn't going to run for mayor again. What about Paloma Castillon? Martin considered the possibility for only a moment. No, someone with her Washington experience settled in a place like Boston for, literally, the street cred. Mayor of Boston was too small for her, but councilor might be enough to propel her to Congress and beyond. And Representative Todaro had made no secret that he was eyeing the governor's office.

  Donnelly wasn't going to be mayor, but he was going to be in Boston politics for as long as he wanted. That, Martin thought as he looked up Donnelly’s contact information, would probably be more than enough for him.

  ~~~

  "Congratulations!" Richard said warmly after Martin announced his news. "Donnelly's lucky to have you. When do you start?"

  "He already has," Jessie said as she frowned. "Donnelly called at midnight for the last two nights."

  Zainab laughed. "You finally found someone who keeps your hours." Jessie stuck out her tongue. Zainab turned to Martin. "And you're sure he's not running for mayor again?"

  Martin smirked. "I'll eat Hellie's vegan ice cream if he does."

  "Good," Zainab said when she was done laughing. "I don't think he'd be a good mayor."

  Richard groaned. "Sweetheart, it's like waiting for Al Gore every four years. David Hwang is gone."

  "Stranger things have happened," Zainab said defiantly.

  Martin smiled as he picked up his soda. "Indeed."

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  There’s no better character in my series to ease us into something like politics than Martin Shepard, possibly the most beloved character in this series. While some might use intellectual force (Emily), others guilt (Richard) and still others blackmail (Michael), Martin is the one most likely to make you believe it’s a good idea.

  But what about Zainab? Don’t worry, she’ll play a big role in The Golden Boy Returns. Don’t believe me? Please read on...

  THE GOLDEN BOY RETURNS

  An excerpt from the next book in The New Pioneers series

  It was dark outside but the Student Government Council offices were buzzing with activity. The Academic Affairs meeting had just wrapped up. Giles de Rochart, the Vice President of Academic Affairs, was standing outside the office, surrounded by his adoring fans. Tall, dark haired David Hwang was arguably just as handsome—and unquestionably quicker on his feet—but the thought of flirting as much as Giles did on a regular basis exhausted him. He sighed just thinking about it before he recognized a welcome figure.

  "Zainab!" The young woman ahead of him turned around and beamed. "What are you doing here? Is Student Affairs meeting tonight too? If so, tell Joe that if he thinks he can get our conference room Giles will kick his ass."

  Zainab laughed as she walked over. "I'm glad Giles is good for something!" David was Giles' Assistant VP, and everyone knew he was the one who did all of the work.

  "What?" David gestured toward Giles and the four young women, almost certainly freshmen, circled around him. "He also brings in new recruits."

  "It's just that he can't keep them once they hear him speak," Zainab muttered.

  "Ah," David said, pulling up to his full height of six feet, "but that's when I step in and we actually get some work done."

  She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Too bad you weren’t here a little earlier to close the deal with someone."

  David perked up. "Yeah? Someone smart?"

  Zainab nodded. "I think so. Her name’s Emily and even though she’s not even nineteen she’s, like, halfway through all of her credits. But it’s too late. She’s too disgusted with Giles’ stupidity to return."

  He deflated, bowing his head ever so slightly. "That’s a shame. I’m going to need all the help I can get. Last year we passed a bill to make sure all textbooks would be available in the library and online."

  Zainab wrinkled her nose. "What do you mean, online? Like from a website?"

  David shrugged. "I'm not going to be too picky. A website is fine, but we're hoping more specifically for e-books." Zainab blinked. "You know," he said after a moment, "something you can read on your computer or phone."

  "Wow," Zainab said. "I'd heard about people reading those things in Japan on their phone, but I didn't realize they were coming out with those for textbooks."

  David nodded confidently. "The publishers are going to be making a big push for them in the next few years. If we can get ahead of this, we can negotiate a good rate. I mean, we're a huge school. And we won't have to carry our heavy textbooks around. Win-win."

  Zainab frowned. "Wait a minute. My books have a lot of complicated graphics. My phone is going to be able to handle those?"

  "Some phones are," David said matter-of-factly. "And they're coming out with new and better phones all the time. But word is that they're also starting to d
evelop mini-computers you can easily carry around."

  Zainab was skeptical. "Easier than a laptop? Because those aren't that small."

  "Some of what they're developing is like a miniature version of a laptop, and some of it is like a bigger version of a Blackberry. And dude, even if you had to carry around your laptop, it would still be less than carrying around four textbooks, right?"

  "True," Zainab conceded. "But are you sure this isn't just a trend?"

  "Like I said, the publishers are making the push. If I'm wrong, they're wrong. But you talk to anybody about the possibility of smaller technology that can do more, they're excited about it. It's an easy bet."

  "Win-win-win?"

  David grinned. "Exactly."

  Zainab crossed her arms. "So then let me ask you this, since you're on such a roll: when are you going to stop letting Giles take all the credit for your work and become VP yourself?"

  "I could ask you the same thing about Joe, you know."

  Zainab blushed a little bit. "Fair enough, but I'm not the one who wants go into politics as a career, Mr. Political Science Major."

  David shrugged. "What am I supposed to do? He just got elected!"

  She looked over her shoulder at Giles, who was now talking to just one girl, and much more closely. "What a shame."

  "It's fine, Z," he said reassuringly. "I'll run next spring when he runs for President."

  Zainab's head whipped around. "Giles is running for President?!"

  David looked down at her as if she were speaking another language. "Yes," he said slowly. "Did you think he was the VP of Academic Affairs because he's passionate about instruction here?"

  "You know Joe's going to run too, right?"

  "Of course he is," David said. "They all are; Jessica from Student Services and Sandoval from Administration too. But the real race is going to be between Joe and Giles, and everyone knows that."

  "But Giles is an idiot!" Zainab exclaimed then quickly turned around to make sure Giles hadn't heard her. She sighed with relief as she saw he was closer still to the young woman next to him.