game plan in place, I sat down to write Levi’s speech. The words were swimming around in my head, and I was eager to get them down on paper. As I typed away, I raised one eye from of the computer screen to glance at the others in the room. Gabriel appeared to be introducing William to Levi, who glanced in my direction, a look of surprise on his face. William must have seemed like a man conjured up out of thin air, and I wondered how Gabriel was explaining my new paramour to his old friend. I decided not to guess. It was more important to work than to speculate at this point.
I wrote for a few more minutes and then glanced up again, amused to see the three men consulting what looked to be the room service menu. Another test, I thought. William would have to feign the absence of an appetite in front of Levi, or find another way to distract him from his lack of interest in food. Again, I opted to work, rather than worry. William had survived more than 100 years without me, so I was certain he would manage this evening. By the time the food was delivered, I had a decent first draft of a speech for the team to review.
Gabriel, it turned out, helped play a role in William’s diversion. The meal he’d ordered consisted of raw fish. Sushi and sashimi are foods I knew William’s system could tolerate in small doses.
“It’s better not to eat a heavy meal when we need to be thinking on our toes,” he said, as the waiter wheeled in a cart with assorted fish and a bottle of vodka on ice. “We can always order more if we’re hungry later.”
I watched William out of the corner of my eye as he picked up a pair of chopsticks and deftly nibbled on a piece of tuna. The shot of vodka went down more easily, his system long accustomed to hard alcohol. Still, his ability to blend in was admirable, and I concluded that vampires were the best chameleons I’d ever encountered.
I turned out to be the one without the appetite—too keyed up to eat. I managed a few bites and then took a shot of vodka for courage. It was difficult to believe as I surveyed the room that only the night before, I’d been floating in a ten-feet-deep, salt-water pool at Hearst Castle, making love and drinking Champagne.
Elections once again were proving to be a lot like a long drive on a narrow mountain road; one false move and you were in danger of swerving over the side. This speech was to be our way of getting back on course safely. I hoped we could do it without any more injuries.
After the meal, I handed out copies of the speech. Levi got out of his chair, walked over to a desk nearby and began making notes on his copy.
Gabriel handed his pages right back to me, saying, “This is his speech; I will let him make the first comments.”
Levi returned to our circle of chairs, handing me his notes.
“You’ve always been a good writer, Olivia,” he said. “But this has to come from my heart if it’s going to be credible, so I’ve made a few modifications.”
His changes were great. I nodded. “Let me update your remarks, and then we can rehearse.”
By midnight, Levi had completed several practice runs of his speech, as we made minor tweaks to the language along the way. By 12:30 we disbanded, Levi and Gabriel going to their rooms in the hotel. Maggie was bunking in the spare room in our suite, and had long since retreated to get some rest after what had been one of the toughest days of her young political career. I stood in the window of the room massaging my neck, listening as William locked the door to the suite.
“I need to try to be more ergonomic,” I said, as he took over pressing on the tender pressure points in my neck and back. “Political campaigns are hard on the human body.”
“Seems that way,” he said. “It feels like you have a rock embedded in your shoulder.”
I laughed. “That’s been there for a while, if you try to remove it, my arm will fall off.”
“As soon as this campaign is over, we’re going on a vacation,” he said, continuing to knead my muscles. “Some place where you can relax and stop thinking about everyone else’s