LITMIR.BIZ

       3

      HERSHEY GOT OFF THE STOOL, STRETCHED, grabbed his drink, and started meandering. I took my beer and followed. He stopped at the second table we came to.

      “Mind if we join you?” Hershey said.

      “Do we have a choice?”

      The speaker was a youngish-looking man whose outfit demanded a double take. He was wearing a gray seersucker suit, red suspenders, a red-patterned bow tie that appeared to be the real thing, and tortoiseshell glasses. He looked like Orville Redenbacher on his first day at law school. Hershey grabbed a chair from another table, pushed it toward me, and took the table’s lone empty seat.

      “Allen Ratliff,” he said, nodding at Bow Tie. “Governor Hubbard’s chief of staff. But don’t hold that against him.” Ratliff shook my hand with a grip somewhere between job candidate interview and first meeting of future father-in-law. Hershey turned to the second man, a frowner with a bristly goatee and short-cropped black hair. “Sam Michaels, Education Department’s chief number cruncher.” Michaels nodded at me.

      “Lily Gleason,” Hershey said, gesturing at the woman opposite Michaels. “Governor Hubbard’s education liaison.”

      “Nice to meet you,” she said with a forced smile.

      “And you are?” Ratliff said.

      “Andy Hayes,” Hershey said, before I could speak. “He’s protecting me against the forces of evil. Present company excluded, of course.”

      I smiled as best I could. I was starting to realize Hershey was like that loud uncle at Thanksgiving ready to embarrass you at the drop of the hat. It was better to sit back and let him do his thing, whatever that was, than risk opening my mouth.

      “So what’s going on?” Hershey said. “I’m hearing all kinds of stuff.”

      “You tell us,” Ratliff said. “You seem to be the man with the plan.”

      “I hear Dani Symmes is up in arms about the charter school amendments. Claims ‘lack of progress.’ True?”

      That won a thin smile from Ratliff, a glare from Michaels, and a matronly frown from Gleason.

      “I’m sure the Senate will work out something compatible,” Ratliff said. He spoke in even, clipped tones, not rushed, not dawdling, like a man who taught himself elocution with a metronome.

      “Symmes is Speaker of the House,” Hershey said, turning to me. “The House sent the school-funding bill over to the Senate with a bunch of perks for charter schools, which the Republicans love because they’re not unionized and they don’t have to follow boring ‘rules and regulations.’” Hershey was a big one for air quotes, I was gathering. I made a mental note to stop using them so much myself. “The Senate stripped all that charter stuff out, and now they’re seeing what they can put back in to placate Symmes without holding their noses so hard they pass out.”

      “OK,” I said, studying the uncomfortable faces of the trio before us. I’d seen wedding crashers on parole more welcome than Hershey appeared to be at the moment.

      “So, anything?” he said.

      Lily Gleason looked despairingly at Ratliff. He looked back at her, though his expression was neutral.

      “We’ll know more later this week,” he said.

      “When?”

      As though Hershey weren’t there, Ratliff leaned back, produced a phone, and popped off a text message as nonchalantly as if he were brushing a crumb from his sleeve. When he looked up he seemed almost surprised to see the reporter still at their table. “Later. And now, if you don’t mind, we actually had some business to discuss.” He nodded at a thick Triple F binder on the table.

      “I’m all ears,” Hershey said.

      Ratliff sent another text, ignoring him.

      “I’ll see you around,” Hershey said, ending the game and getting up. I stood.

      “Nice meeting you,” Ratliff said to me.

      “Same.” Michaels and Gleason nodded but didn’t speak.

      “So now you can at least say you’ve met the P-O-D,” Hershey said as we made our way across the restaurant.

      “P-O-D?”

      “Ratliff. The Prince of Dorkness. Can you believe that outfit? He once told me, without the slightest hint of irony, he has a bow tie for every day of the year.”

      I shrugged. “Some guys look good in them. And some guys think they do. And never the twain shall meet.”

      Hershey snorted. “You’re starting to grow on me, Woody.”

      “It’s Andy.”

      “Says you.”