“My mom has physical therapy at four,” another chimes in.
“My baby will need to go down for a nap by noon. . . .”
The crowd murmurs quietly.
“You people are unbelievable!” Gabe shouts. His face reddens. “Your baby can nap after the election! Yes. It’s a lot of work. But we need Rossum to win! Is that what you all want? Or only if it’s convenient for you?”
He stalks off and slams the VIP supply closet shut behind him.
I glance at Jamie. What just happened?
Hannah clears her throat and hurries to the front of the room.
“Hey, y’all.” She smiles brightly. “We’re just so super excited to be in the home stretch for Rossum! Let’s aim for one hundred doors, and if you can’t do that, just do as many as you can. Whatever you accomplish today is amazing. We’ll sync the data we collect from the app when you return.” She glances at the supply closet. “And Gabe and I both want you to know we appreciate you volunteering your time, and we know how valuable it is. Don’t forget to grab water bottles on your way out. It’s a hot one today! We’ll have pizza waiting for you as a thank-you when you return.”
The crowd relaxes a bit. Everyone starts filing out of the room.
“Hannah to the rescue,” I say.
“That could have gone really badly,” Jamie agrees.
We walk over to the VIP supply closet. Jamie taps the door and peeks in. Gabe is pacing the cramped area and looking down at his phone. His forehead is coated with sweat.
“You okay, Gabe?” Jamie says.
“That was kind of rough out there,” I add.
“Too tough?” He looks up at us. “I should go out there and say something.” He moves to hurry out, but Jamie reaches out and stops him.
“Hannah took care of it,” he says. “What is with you? Your face is red. Do I need to take you to urgent care?”
“No.” Gabe wipes his sweaty forehead with his arm. “The VIP room doesn’t get good ventilation, that’s all. It’s just. This campaign. We’re in the last gasps—fundraising isn’t going as well as we hoped. I reached out to every Atlanta celebrity, and only two responded with donations. I just don’t get it.”
“A lot of people showed up today,” I tell him.
“Twenty-four people is nothing,” Gabe snaps. “We need quadruple times quadruple that if we want to actually hit every door.” He massages his temples. “I don’t know what to do. Every angle feels futile. There’s no traction with ads. People glaze over. Ditto yard signs. What we need is for something to go viral. Do you know that two of our folks got Fifi’d while canvassing? I pitched it to every local station, no one picked it up! They said they covered it a few weeks ago. So what? I’m handing you content, people!”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “That sucks. That people got Fifi’d.”
“Fifi’s messaging is the problem.” Gabe paces the room. “It’s all, pardon the pun, dog whistles—anti-Semitic stuff no one except for people in the know would get. Does any ordinary person know the 88 on her cup stands for Heil Hitler? Or the okay sign she’s doing while holding her teacup is another anti-Semitic nod? Now, if it had a swastika, everyone would be all over it.”
“Gabe.” I look at him. “Are you saying you wish it had a swastika?”
“Look.” He lowers his voice. “I know it’s not PC. But it would help move the needle for Rossum to win. I’m just being honest.”
“You’re honestly being the worst,” Jamie interrupts.
“No need to be condescending, Big J.” Gabe frowns at him.
“You’re asking for a swastika on a teacup. Do you hear yourself?”
“This isn’t about me. I’m trying to get Rossum this election.”
“But sooner or later this election will be over,” Jamie says. “And when it’s behind you, you’ll still have to be you. Make sure you’ll be able to live with yourself when it’s done.”
Jamie turns and walks out. I glance at Gabe.
“He’s right,” I tell him before I follow Jamie to the car.
“You okay?” I ask him when we get back inside.
I thought he’d be freaking out. But Jamie is grinning.
“I’m great,” he replies. “Can you believe I got him to shut up for a second?”
“I’m not sure I’ve seen Gabe without a comeback before.” I wipe the perspiration off my forehead. “Hannah’s right, though—it is really hot today. Can we swing by to get some iced coffee?”