Chapter the Ninth - Of Politics, Governmental and Sexual
Somebody bring me some water
Can’t you see I’m burning alive
Can’t you see my baby’s got another lover
I don’t know how I’m gonna survive
Somebody bring me some water
Can’t you see it’s out of control
Baby’s got my heart and my baby’s got my mind
But tonight the sweet devil’s got my soul
Melissa Etheridge - Bring Me Some Water
Chapter 9 -- Political Intrigues
Arthur Larson, second son of Grove Larson had a rather proprietary interest in Mara Pitts. Seeing his older brother marry and have a delightful daughter had awakened a thread of thought in the all but sworn bachelor's mind.
Arthur had a taste for power. He was reasonable enough to know that he would never be able to consolidate such power and backing to be elected to the United States House as the Representative of South Dakota. He was however, interested in pursuing office within the state, with the possibility of being Governor some day.
Why all this interest in Mara? Unbeknownst to his older sibling and his kindly father, Arthur also craved a wife and children. A suitable wife who was knowledgeable of state politics and their convoluted twists and turns. Mind you, she wasn't pretty, but he found her intelligence more than adequate to make up for that.
If Grove Jr., his older sibling or indeed Grove Sr., had known of the plans revolving in his head, they would have gently tried to dissuade him from his course, trying not to laugh at his foibles.
Failing politics, there was also Plan B which was hidden even more deeply in his convoluted mind, this plan perhaps a bit more quixotic at least by Arthur's lights: Investing in Mara's paper with the ultimate goal building the newest newspaper empire since Hearst and Pulitzer and all the others made their mark on news media history. Oh, certainly not an empire that would encompass the whole country. A cozy, five-state empire would be just fine.
Mara would have been astounded by Plan A. She couldn't be more different from Arthur if she had consciously tried to be so. She was a liberal Democrat, he a very conservative Republican. She would have never even given a thought to becoming embroiled in state politics, other than reporting on them in her paper. He wanted to be so embroiled that he could manipulate his way into office by garnering the popular vote. She was herself. Arthur was willing to become someone else to have his way.
Mara was practical and knew the extent of her power if she even considered it as such. Arthur, used to playing in the power fields of the Chicago Stock Market, though retired, craved to wield such power again.
If Mara even caught wind of the pipe-dream of Plan B, she would have fallen to the ground laughing fit to split her sides, never mind that Arthur's feelings might be hurt in the process. She wouldn't normally be so cruel, but the mind-boggling scope of Arthur's Plan B Fantasy would have had her wondering about Arthur's mental health.
Therein was the crux of the difference between them. Mara had always been firmly grounded by life, she had never really played the power/political field. That field, while very real, had never appealed to her. She had even eschewed that while at Medill, certainly Northwestern University had its share of the power hungry elite of the Junior Country Club set; that had never been her thing. She was now content being the editor of a small town newspaper and had no aspirations beyond that.
Arthur on the other hand, had wholly become a true believer in the power of politics and money. He reveled in corporate games so much that he began to take them more seriously than some of the major players. His very presence in South Dakota would have puzzled his family and friends had they known what sort of machinations were spinning around in his brain.
However, now a potential crimp in his plans had arisen in the person of Rafael Moretti. Arthur knew of Moretti. One couldn't follow the newswires in Chicago without hearing of the man, praised as an uber-journalist by some news circles. He had never set eyes on him, but the threat from that quarter was implicit. Newspaper man staying with newspaper woman, surely they would find common ground.
Arthur frowned. Now if he could just keep them from finding too much common ground, maybe, just maybe he could court Moretti away from Kuntzler News Enterprises, to help shore up his own cozy, and still fictitious, newspaper empire.
This line of reasoning would have had Rafe rolling on the ground laughing. However Arthur's dreams were threatening to tear loose from the moorings of reason. No one even began to suspect just how stressful working the stock market floor had been to Arthur, who in his own way, was a closeted Romantic who thought he was above all Practical and Thorough, which was Delusional at best.
Sipping his coffee and mentally adding his own spin to the previous evening's edition of the Prairiedog, he eventually looked away from the paper and out the kitchen window to the blowing snow. He'd have to get in touch with his friends in Chicago and find out more about Moretti.
---------------
Mara sat in her office and literally shuddered at her own folly. Rafe had kissed her, and she had bolted out of the room like a frightened virgin. What was going on here?
Having cloistered herself away from the staff, she took a couple of minutes to figure out just what the hell had caused her to bolt. Digging around in the stew of emotions that Rafe's kiss had evoked she found a couple of roaches in the ointment.
Mara Pitts, control freak extraordinaire. She sighed at that one, knowing that a peaceful life was hard-won, and yes she was going to do everything she could to keep it that way.
And then there was the Commitment Question. She snorted out loud at this. The man kisses her out of... hell, camaraderie? and she'd already had him tricked out in a tux with piping matching the bridesmaids' dresses. Feh! The very thought, though bred into her by being raised in a state somewhat behind the times in its view of male/female relationships, made her shudder again.
As if!! She HAD no desire to be married, she and the Prairiedog made a perfectly satisfactory couple, thank you very much. Add Boris for companionship, and she had eked out a lovely contented life out of much sorrow. Anyway, best to put those thoughts out of mind for now, she had a paper to run.
Dear Lord, she had forgotten to bring a lunch, so she would have to go home... Her thoughts careened back towards her house and the man contained therein. So much for changing her train of thought. She sighed and pulled out her blue pencil, determined to work through the day without seeing Rafe until dinnertime. That would put enough distance from the event of that morning to allow for more...rational thinking.
Hah! As if!!
--------------------
Rafe sat on the livingroom sofa trying to read past the first few sentences of Chomsky. His mind kept drifting back to the morning. She had looked so vulnerable and seemed to so sincerely care about what he had been through.
'Christ, Rafe, you wouldn't happen to be looking for a mommy figure, would you?' he thought savagely. His mother, another strong-willed woman was matriarch enough for him, thank you.
And if Mara were a mommy figure what the hell had he been doing kissing her? Freud would have had a field day with Rafe's present state of mind.
He put down the book and deliberately thought about the kiss. Her lips had been sweet, with a hint of salt from her tears. There had been nothing practiced about them. She had no hidden agenda, apart from perhaps wishing to root about in his very recent past.
A large wheat-colored cat jumped up on the sofa beside Rafe and startled him out his small daydream of Mara's kiss. Rafe and the cat eyed each other.
"Boris, I presume," Rafe said, holding out his hand to let the large tom sniff it. "You're a day ahead of schedule. You had at least 24 more hours of pouting, you realize."
The cat purred and butted his head against Rafe's hand. Rafe obliged by scratching the feline behind the ears, which resulted in a purr rumbling in at around 10 decibels.
"Much more of that Boris, and I'll have to get earplugs."
Boris meowed at him questioningly, then curled up next to his right leg to sleep, providing a soothing, vibrating warmth. He had read somewhere that cats' purring seemed to speed up the healing process of themselves when injured. Something about portions of the purr being in the 60 hz range of vibration was theorized to be healing for humans as well.
He had no objections to Boris napping up on the sofa with him. Cat or no cat, Rafe could just as easily ponder why he had kissed Mara.
Why HAD he done something so...uncharacteristic? He coughed back a chuckle, his usual female company consisted of those women whose looks definitely fell into the classic beauty range.
Mara was anything but. She was plainly pretty or was that prettily plain? Though her eyes were very speaking when she became interested in or riled about something. And her smile, she did have very kissable lips.
And she was nominally his boss for the next couple of months. Not good.
He'd have to focus his energies on the lovely little intern instead, Marlissa Touch or whatever the hell her name was. He'd get her talking about spiders again and all would be well again. Satisfied with his romantic plans for Pittsville, he picked up his book, determined to read some more as Boris purred on.
If cats could laugh...
Can’t you see I’m burning alive
Can’t you see my baby’s got another lover
I don’t know how I’m gonna survive
Somebody bring me some water
Can’t you see it’s out of control
Baby’s got my heart and my baby’s got my mind
But tonight the sweet devil’s got my soul
Melissa Etheridge - Bring Me Some Water
Chapter 9 -- Political Intrigues
Arthur Larson, second son of Grove Larson had a rather proprietary interest in Mara Pitts. Seeing his older brother marry and have a delightful daughter had awakened a thread of thought in the all but sworn bachelor's mind.
Arthur had a taste for power. He was reasonable enough to know that he would never be able to consolidate such power and backing to be elected to the United States House as the Representative of South Dakota. He was however, interested in pursuing office within the state, with the possibility of being Governor some day.
Why all this interest in Mara? Unbeknownst to his older sibling and his kindly father, Arthur also craved a wife and children. A suitable wife who was knowledgeable of state politics and their convoluted twists and turns. Mind you, she wasn't pretty, but he found her intelligence more than adequate to make up for that.
If Grove Jr., his older sibling or indeed Grove Sr., had known of the plans revolving in his head, they would have gently tried to dissuade him from his course, trying not to laugh at his foibles.
Failing politics, there was also Plan B which was hidden even more deeply in his convoluted mind, this plan perhaps a bit more quixotic at least by Arthur's lights: Investing in Mara's paper with the ultimate goal building the newest newspaper empire since Hearst and Pulitzer and all the others made their mark on news media history. Oh, certainly not an empire that would encompass the whole country. A cozy, five-state empire would be just fine.
Mara would have been astounded by Plan A. She couldn't be more different from Arthur if she had consciously tried to be so. She was a liberal Democrat, he a very conservative Republican. She would have never even given a thought to becoming embroiled in state politics, other than reporting on them in her paper. He wanted to be so embroiled that he could manipulate his way into office by garnering the popular vote. She was herself. Arthur was willing to become someone else to have his way.
Mara was practical and knew the extent of her power if she even considered it as such. Arthur, used to playing in the power fields of the Chicago Stock Market, though retired, craved to wield such power again.
If Mara even caught wind of the pipe-dream of Plan B, she would have fallen to the ground laughing fit to split her sides, never mind that Arthur's feelings might be hurt in the process. She wouldn't normally be so cruel, but the mind-boggling scope of Arthur's Plan B Fantasy would have had her wondering about Arthur's mental health.
Therein was the crux of the difference between them. Mara had always been firmly grounded by life, she had never really played the power/political field. That field, while very real, had never appealed to her. She had even eschewed that while at Medill, certainly Northwestern University had its share of the power hungry elite of the Junior Country Club set; that had never been her thing. She was now content being the editor of a small town newspaper and had no aspirations beyond that.
Arthur on the other hand, had wholly become a true believer in the power of politics and money. He reveled in corporate games so much that he began to take them more seriously than some of the major players. His very presence in South Dakota would have puzzled his family and friends had they known what sort of machinations were spinning around in his brain.
However, now a potential crimp in his plans had arisen in the person of Rafael Moretti. Arthur knew of Moretti. One couldn't follow the newswires in Chicago without hearing of the man, praised as an uber-journalist by some news circles. He had never set eyes on him, but the threat from that quarter was implicit. Newspaper man staying with newspaper woman, surely they would find common ground.
Arthur frowned. Now if he could just keep them from finding too much common ground, maybe, just maybe he could court Moretti away from Kuntzler News Enterprises, to help shore up his own cozy, and still fictitious, newspaper empire.
This line of reasoning would have had Rafe rolling on the ground laughing. However Arthur's dreams were threatening to tear loose from the moorings of reason. No one even began to suspect just how stressful working the stock market floor had been to Arthur, who in his own way, was a closeted Romantic who thought he was above all Practical and Thorough, which was Delusional at best.
Sipping his coffee and mentally adding his own spin to the previous evening's edition of the Prairiedog, he eventually looked away from the paper and out the kitchen window to the blowing snow. He'd have to get in touch with his friends in Chicago and find out more about Moretti.
---------------
Mara sat in her office and literally shuddered at her own folly. Rafe had kissed her, and she had bolted out of the room like a frightened virgin. What was going on here?
Having cloistered herself away from the staff, she took a couple of minutes to figure out just what the hell had caused her to bolt. Digging around in the stew of emotions that Rafe's kiss had evoked she found a couple of roaches in the ointment.
Mara Pitts, control freak extraordinaire. She sighed at that one, knowing that a peaceful life was hard-won, and yes she was going to do everything she could to keep it that way.
And then there was the Commitment Question. She snorted out loud at this. The man kisses her out of... hell, camaraderie? and she'd already had him tricked out in a tux with piping matching the bridesmaids' dresses. Feh! The very thought, though bred into her by being raised in a state somewhat behind the times in its view of male/female relationships, made her shudder again.
As if!! She HAD no desire to be married, she and the Prairiedog made a perfectly satisfactory couple, thank you very much. Add Boris for companionship, and she had eked out a lovely contented life out of much sorrow. Anyway, best to put those thoughts out of mind for now, she had a paper to run.
Dear Lord, she had forgotten to bring a lunch, so she would have to go home... Her thoughts careened back towards her house and the man contained therein. So much for changing her train of thought. She sighed and pulled out her blue pencil, determined to work through the day without seeing Rafe until dinnertime. That would put enough distance from the event of that morning to allow for more...rational thinking.
Hah! As if!!
--------------------
Rafe sat on the livingroom sofa trying to read past the first few sentences of Chomsky. His mind kept drifting back to the morning. She had looked so vulnerable and seemed to so sincerely care about what he had been through.
'Christ, Rafe, you wouldn't happen to be looking for a mommy figure, would you?' he thought savagely. His mother, another strong-willed woman was matriarch enough for him, thank you.
And if Mara were a mommy figure what the hell had he been doing kissing her? Freud would have had a field day with Rafe's present state of mind.
He put down the book and deliberately thought about the kiss. Her lips had been sweet, with a hint of salt from her tears. There had been nothing practiced about them. She had no hidden agenda, apart from perhaps wishing to root about in his very recent past.
A large wheat-colored cat jumped up on the sofa beside Rafe and startled him out his small daydream of Mara's kiss. Rafe and the cat eyed each other.
"Boris, I presume," Rafe said, holding out his hand to let the large tom sniff it. "You're a day ahead of schedule. You had at least 24 more hours of pouting, you realize."
The cat purred and butted his head against Rafe's hand. Rafe obliged by scratching the feline behind the ears, which resulted in a purr rumbling in at around 10 decibels.
"Much more of that Boris, and I'll have to get earplugs."
Boris meowed at him questioningly, then curled up next to his right leg to sleep, providing a soothing, vibrating warmth. He had read somewhere that cats' purring seemed to speed up the healing process of themselves when injured. Something about portions of the purr being in the 60 hz range of vibration was theorized to be healing for humans as well.
He had no objections to Boris napping up on the sofa with him. Cat or no cat, Rafe could just as easily ponder why he had kissed Mara.
Why HAD he done something so...uncharacteristic? He coughed back a chuckle, his usual female company consisted of those women whose looks definitely fell into the classic beauty range.
Mara was anything but. She was plainly pretty or was that prettily plain? Though her eyes were very speaking when she became interested in or riled about something. And her smile, she did have very kissable lips.
And she was nominally his boss for the next couple of months. Not good.
He'd have to focus his energies on the lovely little intern instead, Marlissa Touch or whatever the hell her name was. He'd get her talking about spiders again and all would be well again. Satisfied with his romantic plans for Pittsville, he picked up his book, determined to read some more as Boris purred on.
If cats could laugh...
posted by Dace @ 7:16 PM
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