The Race: A Novella

By Jacke Wilson

When the scandal broke, she dumped him.

Now he’s running again. And he needs her support.

When Governor Tom Olson humiliated himself in a sex scandal, the people of Wisconsin rallied to the side of his popular wife, kicking the Governor out of office and onto the political scrap heap.

Now he thinks he can win a seat in Congress – unless his wife decides to sink his candidacy.

Accompanied by his reluctant biographer, the disgraced politician hits the campaign trail, testing whether one man's misplaced confidence is enough to overcome the hatred and mockery of a nation.

THE RACE is a fast-paced novella that takes a humorous and insightful look at the effects of campaigns on politicians and the people around them.

Jacke Wilson is the pen name of a writer who was born and raised in Wisconsin and has since lived in Chicago, Italy, Taiwan, Michigan, Seattle, California, and New York City. Formerly a Capitol Hill staffer, he now lives and works in the Washington D.C. area. He can be found at http://www.jackewilson.com and @WriterJacke.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jacke Wilson
• Release date: Jan 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991047710

Book preview

The Race

Jacke Wilson

Text copyright © 2013 Jacke Wilson

All Rights Reserved

http://www.jackewilson.com

@WriterJacke

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design: Janeen Ponyicsanyi

ISBN: 978-0-9910477-1-0

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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To my family, for filling life with enthusiasm.

Chapter One

Throughout the campaign, reporters asked me why the Governor was running. Not if I thought he’d win or what he’d do once elected, but why. Why’s he running? Why? Why? Why’s he doing this to us? Why’s he doing this to himself?

I never knew how to answer. He was a career politician, one of those creatures who need validation by an electorate the way athletes need competition or businessmen need to make money. An egomaniac, a narcissist, a damaged personality looking to fill some kind of hole—all of that was obvious, and true. Only it was not enough for them. Not this time.

I’d usually mumble something or other I’d heard the Governor say—that he wanted to help others, that he believed he was the best person to represent the good people of Wisconsin. But it was no good: they knew I was not a true believer. I’d been on the scene for weeks, not years. I was not a chief of staff or a whispering guru or a speechwriter or a handler or a political advisor of any kind. I wasn’t even a member of his party. Not a relative, not a friend. I was just there.

Is this another one of your strays? my wife asked when I told her I was taking a few months off to help write the autobiography of a man nobody loved. Governor Olson? The ‘gone snowmobiling’ guy?

That’s the one.

She sighed. Another stray.

It’s a paying job, I said.

She knew, even then, that I would become more deeply involved than the project required. She knew it would happen even though she had no idea that the Governor was planning to run again. None of us did.

Why?

I suppose what follows is my attempt to answer the question:

Why did he run?

And another of my own:

Why do we care?

* * *

Even before I received the materials I had been tracking the Governor’s career. I was in D.C. and he was in Wisconsin, but it was impossible for me to ignore his ascent. My parents were excited about it, for one thing. My dad had taught him in high school. There was not much else in our town to be excited about. Anyone who broke out of the parochial limits of our area gained the notice, the respect, and the appreciation of everyone in the community. A golfer from a nearby town turned pro and stayed on the Masters leaderboard until late Sunday afternoon: Yes! We’re still here! We exist! Our town produced a tug-of-war team that competed in the World Championships in Ireland: Yes! We can no longer be ignored—we just finished third in the entire world! We count!

And now… a governor with national aspirations. From a town not far from ours.

Still, I was astonished to receive the box. Why me? I had an MFA, which made me a writer, purportedly, and a law degree, which meant I could call myself a lawyer—but I was not a politician or a journalist, let alone a biographer. Had someone given him my name? Had he thought he needed someone unconventional?

The package contained two manuscript boxes, six or seven hundred pages of material. There was no cover letter. I thought it might be a prank or a mistake.

He called later that day.

It’s my autobiography, he said. I need some help with the organization. I’m a busy man. When can you start?

I’m busy too, I said.

I’ll pay you, he said, brushing off my reluctance. "You’ll enjoy it. I’ve had a fascinating life."

He assumed I would agree—but then again, he could. He had earned that much at least. His rise had been conventional, but his flameout had been extraordinary. He could have appeared on any talk show he wanted. Any reporter in the country would have taken his call. Even minor scandals have a way of giving you that power.

And his had been spectacular. A sitting governor, an incipient national campaign. Getting traction in the primaries. Not likely to win, but a press favorite. A good chance at being on the Presidential ticket. And then: a disappearance. His staff is cagey. He’s in bed with a cold. Then they say he’s up north snowmobiling. The catch phrase takes off: Saturday Night Live bases a skit on it. Rumors abound: rehab, depression, marital problems. Someone says they saw him at an airport. Finally the staff admits they aren’t sure where he is. The governor! Of the state! Is gone!

That was the story for a few wondrous days. The truth when it emerged was just as surprising. He’d gone off, leaving everyone behind: his wife, his four kids, his campaign, the state he was in charge of—all to go and visit his mistress in Italy.

That, of course, was the first big why.

True love? That’s what he claimed in public.

It’s never that simple.

I read enough in the pages he’d sent me to see that there was a more complicated answer.

I took the job to find out what it was.

* * *

He wanted me to meet him at the Big Boy on Highway 14, near I-90. It was a restaurant I did not know still existed. Not just their Janesville location, but the entire Big Boy franchise. Who still ate there? How did they keep going? But there it was, still chugging away. I sat down on a bench in the lobby and watched Wisconsinites come and go.

After a few minutes a boy came in—he was maybe four or five—ahead of whoever had brought him.

There he is! he shouted, and came running toward me.

I stood up, my mind making all kinds of leaps. This boy must be a grandson, the son of one of the Governor’s older boys—the Governor must have brought his whole family. A woman followed the boy through the door—presumably the Governor’s daughter-in-law. And they must all be excited to meet me. The grownups must have told the little boy that they were on their way to meet someone important, a writer who was going to be helping Grampa with an important project.

My mind put all this together in a second, and it changed everything. I stood up, flattered, determined to live up to their expectations. I was a writer, in their

Reviews for The Race

[mfieldswriter · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Race is a haunting piece of writing, the type I’ve come to expect from author Jacke Wilson, and the type that keeps me reading his work on his blog. The story is about a washed-up politician who is so self-focused that he is oblivious to reality; or maybe his is so incredibly dim-witted he doesn’t see facts; or maybe, he is a man who believes so blindingly in his message he cannot see that others despise him. This piece of the story keeps you reading—is he really that stupid? But what I found more interesting, was the quiet, first-person narrator, and what his time spent with the politician does to his own psyche.

Jacke Wilson is an excellent writer with a solid handle on language and a distinct voice that is usually touched with both angst and hope. If you want a keep-you-on-the-edge-of-your-seat thriller, this is not a novella for you. If you want well crafted prose, deep character analysis, and a look at life as bittersweet as dark chocolate, then download now.