2010-09-12: Brooklyn Strike



Date: September 12, 2010


A unexpected political victory is scored.

"Brooklyn Strike"

Brooklyn, NY

Among professional bowlers, a Brooklyn strike is one that hits the pins on the side of the bowler's weak arm. Today, it takes on a less cheerful sense: hundreds of disgruntled apartment maintenance staff are gathered together along a two-block stretch, hand-lettered posters taped to the brooms and mops that leave little question what sort of work they're refusing to do. A pair of women - one with gray hair, one with brown - are stationed near the intersection, wielding megaphones and keeping an eye out for anyone getting too close to the car traffic.

There's not a lot for them to do right now, really. Traffic - both wheeled and pedestrian - is light, and management's representatives are waiting it out somewhere else at this early stage. There's talk going around of someone leaving to go make a food run— which suits George just fine, as he's already got it taken care of. He's pretty hungry himself, too, after the place Evette had earmarked for lunch screwed up and double-booked a table… they were able to find somewhere else, but that was hours ago, and they've done a lot more running around town since then.

Evette has been a trooper and the cameras seem to love her. In fact, one might think she's had professional training on how to smile just right and stand just so. As they come up to the area, Eve starts to slow down in preparation. Her eyes drop to her phone and she offers towards the man beside her. "Food will be delivered in about five minutes or for all the people. Do you know what you want to say?" Her voice is confident with a sultry pitch to it that would be seductive if they were other people. There is another thing this walk should have taught him. Evette is worth her paycheck. She's managed to smooth over ruffled feathers and say the right catch phrases. As well a lot of people seem to know her.

"Oh, they pretty much know the pitch already," replies George, waving as they draw closer. "Just need to hit all the high points, remind them that I know it too."

There's yet another thing this walk will teach her, if she hasn't already learned: some people have sharp hearing. Or maybe they read lips. "Cena, cinco minutos!" one of the men in line translates, and a ragged cheer goes up. They'll be more excited when the two actually make good on their promise, but it's a start at least.

Evette lifts her brows to him thoughtfully as she smiles and steps a bit closer to him. "We should greet those in charge while we wait for the food to arrive." Her eyes shift over the crowd, almost protectively; almost. "Alright, let's see some Dawson charm for the crowd then." Eve smiles and pauses to grin perfectly at one of the cameras that flash and whirl.

George rises up on his toes a bit, taking in the length and breadth of the crowd. "Mmm, we should try, at least. They might get here before we make it that far." One thing she doesn't need to nag him about is playing to a friendly crowd; he's already two steps ahead of her, shaking hands and nodding as he comes across a few faces he recognizes.

Just as they're reaching the boss ladies in the middle, the delivery van arrives from the other direction, people stepping away from the curb to make room for it. And at the same time, a portly man with wispy brown hair and a loud sports jacket is walking along a side street, approaching the same intersection. Yay for convenient timing.

Evette seems content to be the man's shadow. Every man needs one, right? She just nods her head and extends her hand behind him. Eve stops a few times to chat about the election, but for the most part, she is just here to assist him. Her eyes stay on the back of his head to keep track of him.

When the food and the man start to arrive, Evette starts a slight 'herding' in that direction. Her smile never falls from her lips as she stays a hand's reach within her boss's bubble.

Similar handshakes are exchanged with the two organizers. "Julie, Elizabeth— good to see you both again. No trouble out here tonight, I hope?" It's not just small talk— the crowd is being watched by a handful of NYPD officers, some of whom were briefly on TV back when that other protest went sour a couple months back. "And Daniel!" he adds, turning to face the fashion insult on legs. "This is an unexpected surprise."

Evette scans her memory for the name Daniel. Her own eyes watch the NYPD. However, a large smile is given to them and to the women. Her voice soft and soothing. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Her name and cards are exchanged before she turns to meet this Daniel. It is here that Eve takes it upon herself to step up near to George for introduction.

They all know George already, of course, so no cards for him today. His smile remains pleasant enough. "Lemme grab a few sandwiches for you guys while you catch up, okay?" The others try to keep up appearances, but it's strained, they've been negotiating for a couple weeks already and now it's broken down into a battle of wills. It'll take more than free munchies to get any of them to really unwind.

Evette watches George and then vamps it up a few moments. Evelyn walks over towards Daniel and offers out her hand. "I am Evelyn Johannson." Her full lips curve upwards as bright as any movie star. Actually, she is turning up the wattage on the smile as her hand is held out for the man.

"Danny O'Shea," the balding man introduces himself in turn. "You the new girlfriend or something?" There's an undertone of leering in his voice, along the lines of 'if you're not, then I have ideas…' And the union reps seem to spot it right off the bat, barely reining in their contempt for the guy. This is what happens sometimes when George isn't there to smooth things over.

Evette gives an almost flirtatious laugh to that. "Why Mister O'Shea. It would not be proper to state whom I am exactly." Long sable lashes fall upon the curve of her cheeks as she flutters them. Oh yeah, she's use to men implying things about her or to her. That hand is firmly clenched as she looks towards him. "Don't you remember? We already talked earlier about all this. I was speaking for George Dawson." It sounds as if she's being helpful to jog his memory. "We met and you agreed to the terms of the union?" There is a soft petulent pout. "You do remember don't you?"

For a moment, Daniel looks confused, furrowing his brow as he stares back at Evette. Has she been drinking or something? There is the stink of bad beer coming from somewhere nearby. Just before he can say anything, though… it's like a lightbulb goes on over his head. "Right, right— can't let this strike go on any longer, losing more money than it's worth." He's still the same openly calculating jerk that he always was - better at pitching himself to his employers than actually brokering any sort of compromise - but the ones on the other side of the fence know a lucky break when they see it, and keep their mouths shut.

Just then, George walks back up toward them, plastic tray of sandwiches and soft drinks in tow. "So… things seem to be going well here?" Evette would recognize his tone as surprised. Appreciative, but still surprised.

Evette smiles and pulls back her hand from Daniel. That beer smell is probably from him. She reaches out to draw George over to them. In fact, she tries to weave her arm through his. It is more out of a girl protecting herself from another predator. "Oh we are great. Mister O'Shea was just agreeing to end that strike going on. Isn't that fabulous?" Her eyes lift up to his for a moment as she flutters at George. "Did you bring me a sandwich?"

"You wanted the roast beef, right?" George hands them out in turn, keeping a pastrami on rye for himself, and sticks around just long enough to exchange a little small talk before excusing himself— and drawing Evette along with him. It's easy enough when he's still got a hold of her arm.

"What did you say to him, anyway?" he asks, once they're safely out of earshot. "Tell me you didn't agree to a date."

Evette lifts her brows to that for a moment. "Does it matter if I did? I mean whatever gets you elected right?" She reaches out for his pastrami attempting to switch them. Her deep blue eyes peer up at him. "People will hear that you ended the strike and fed both sides, isn't that all that matters, Congressman?" She makes sure that she is smiling at him every moment in case eyes are on them.

"Unless I pick up a reputation for pimping out my employees." George keeps his voice low— they're likely being watched by someone, even if it's just some bored striker near the tail end of the food line. "Seriously— if you did promise him anything, I need to know. In case I need to do damage control." This doesn't seem like her usual style… but then he's still getting a handle on what her usual style is, exactly.

Evette looks up at him for a long moment and then frowns. "George, I don't know what kind of girls you hang out with, but that's not my style." She shakes her head a bit. "I'm just good at my job. He didn't get promises of anything. He just agreed with me." Eve smile brighter to that. "So we should let them work this out and get out of here before we become too much of a photo op." Her head tips to one side. To a bystander they look engaged in a soft conversation with him acting as a proper masculine escort.

This does not compute. Whatever his personal flaws, Daniel does at least make some effort to represent his employers' interests - and they were going from a different set of estimated figures, one they'd been stuck on for weeks. He wouldn't abandon that stance for nothing.


Another quick glance around at the crowd - at the cops, who are also relaxing as they see tensions start to break down - then George nods, continuing down the avenue opposite where Daniel came in. "Evette, are there any special skills that you might have left out of your application? I've seen this sort of thing before, believe it or not." A deliberate understatement, in case he's reading too much into it and just needs to get some dinner in him.

Speaking of which, that was distinctly a roast beef sandwich he just bit into. Did she switch those around on him, too? When did that happen?

"Daaaaahling.." Evette stretches out the title to be funny over actually calling him that. Then her lips curve. "If it is not on my resume, don't you think I don't have it?" Her arm attempts to curl more through his. There really isn't anything flirtatious. "Can we go get real food somewhere there in't cameras? I'd offer to cook something or that but well.. I don't have a stove of my own. As well, you might accuse me of poison or something." Her own voice is kept low.

"Oh, there are plenty of things that wouldn't be on there. You didn't mention you were a gourmet chef, for one." Of course, what George has in mind would be left out for much different reasons… but if she doesn't want to admit to it, fine, he'll drop it for now. Maybe he's wrong, after all. But that 180 of Daniel's really was awfully sudden…

The arm gesture catches his attention once again, but by now, he's figured out what that's all about: a pre-emptive 'get lost, tramp' if any of his alleged tramps happen to show up. Eh, she'll catch on in time. "How are you defining 'real' here? There's a good Indian place a couple blocks down, I think."

Actually the curve is so Daniel doesn't hit on her again. She's using George as her beard on this one. There is a curve of her lips. "I'm French. Do not think that my mother would teach me to cook? I also like to run." Her lips curve even more to that. "Some may associate that with my birth culture as well." She smiles for another camera. "I am counting real as anything not sandwiches." Her eyes run over his form for a moment and then she takes another step.

As people come up, she greets them with easy warmth. That warmth that is not displayed in private moments or one-on-one. Just a hint of what could be there. She turns to look back at him and then offers. "Besides, you single-handedly just stopped a strike, does that not mean cause or celebration of some sort?"

"Well, these are kind of like sandwiches, but that's like saying that— that deer are kind of like giraffes. They both have four legs…" George is polite enough as well, shaking the odd hand here and there, but he's still having to make an effort to put up with Evette. With the year he's been having, French is by no means a plus.

"Well, someone just single-handedly stopped a strike," he admits, once they get to a less crowded spot. "I'll take the credit for it, but I think we both know more than we're saying."

Evette lifts up her hand to smooth back her hair to that. "Are you not telling me something?" There is a pout of her lower lip to that before she nods her head. "Let us just say that you made a very good move in electing me to your campaign. I have no doubt that we will win either." She turns to study him again and then looks away. "So where is this place that we are to eat?"

As they move away from the crowds she offers. "Your family, are you close to them?" It seems like an odd question perhaps coming from her. "I don't know much beyond what is released in your bio."

The place is called Ali's Trinidad Roti Shop, and already has a dozen-odd people waiting in line for it, so it's popular at least. So is McDonald's, but no one's about to mistake the one for the other.

"They're still back in Texas— I try to make it back there once a year or so, but you can imagine it's kind of tough." George untangles his arms, gesturing vaguely in the air with both. "My sister's… interesting enough to give you headaches, but only if she decides to make a surprise visit. Which, if she does, I'll be as surprised as you are."

Evette releases the arm as they aren't near to the man she thought she needed protecting from and they are away from cameras. "Yes, well I'm close to my brother. I keep hoping that he will make a visit." There is a pause. "You'd probably want to fire me and hire him though. My brother is cool. He's always been more friendly than I have been." She nods her head to the mention of Texas. "You know, we could schedule a bit of time down there before elections. I mean it couldn't be too long and I'd have to tag with you. It might be good to see the Congressman is with his family sort of angle for the election." She lifts her brows to see his reaction to that.

George scratches his head. "We should have him meet Michelle, then, they'd probably get along pretty well. And yeah, I suppose I could— but we'd have to come up with more of a reason than 'oh, we feel like changing up the photo ops'. Usually it's been Thanksgiving or Christmas, both of those would be too late." After E-Day.

Evette nods her head thoughtfully. "Well what about a birthday? Is one coming up in the current future?" She seems to be musing this as her head cants to the side. It is a show that she's thinking. Then her eyes turn towards George. "I'm sure she'd love him. It is a strange thing to hate someone you love so much." There is a pause. "Though, I don't think you would understand that."

George snaps his fingers. "That'll work, Michelle's is in about a week and a half. Needs a little embellishment." It's not her 30th, that one already went by a few years back. "And— mmm. I have some idea, but probably not to the same extent. I promise not to gang up on you if he does show up, all right?" Nah, he'll just hang back and watch the carnage.

Evette laughs. Yes, she actually laughed. "No, Pierre is a really good guy. He and Troy are awesome. He let me follow him around college when I didn't really fit in. He also helped when I told my mother I didn't want to be in pa.. He was there when I needed him." She nods her head to that. "Well then I'll plan for that. We'll head down and do a bit of a photo op. Then we should possibly hit DC again." Her eyes lift up to his for a moment. "I don't really hate my brother. I'm just jealous sometimes that he's totally different than me. It must be freeing to actually have people like you or not be worried about some deadline." She shakes her head as if that is all foreign to her.

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