Real World

The limousine sat in a No-Parking zone under the halo of a street lamp. Two men in finely tailored suits were in the back seat. One perused documents with the aid of a little flashlight. The other fidgeted, glanced at his watch and gazed along the block toward a brownstone 100 yards away.
"What's he doing in there?"
"You don't want to know," his companion quipped.
The driver chuckled.
"Relax, Cal. It's politics as usual."
"God help us all." His dark eyes contracted with distress. "How can he risk it all on this?"
"People don't care about peccadilloes any more. They don't even care about graft when the economy and inflation are fine. Clinton's approval rating was high throughout his scandal. People want results, not morality."

"C'mon, Rob. This's illegal as well as immoral. That's a lethal combination. It's an insane risk, and for what - instant gratification of the most sordid kind?"
"It's a 'victimless crime,' as they say. These women chose the life. They're not victims of circumstance like the ones walking the street."
Cal shook his head. "For the life of me I'll never understand why anyone would pay for sex, especially a thousand dollars an hour."
"How can you be so naïve? You've seen those girls. They're like centerfolds. It's a different world nowadays. How many beautiful women are making a big living in pornography? How many couples are posting lascivious pictures of themselves on the net?"
"Yeah, but it's not you these women want - it's your money."
"Well, it doesn't bother him, nor should it."

Cal rolled his eyes heavenward. Adultery, pornography and prostitution had become mainstream to many Americans. "Silly me, I always thought sex was about two people who are crazy about each other."
"Well, he is crazy about it."
The driver laughed even harder at this.
"Moynihan would've described it as 'defining deviancy down.'"
"All men cheat."
Cal twisted in frustration. "Nonsense. I doubt it's more than fifty percent."
"All right - all successful men cheat. It's a manifestation of their overall drive."
"I've never cheated."

"You're the lonely exception. Tell me you've been tempted, at least. Even Jimmy Carter admitted that. We would've been working overtime on spin for that."
"Isn't one of the measures of a man his ability to resist temptation and do right?"
"That's the old standard. It no longer applies. The rules have changed. The sixties have prevailed. A lot of women have made it so easy for us. Why not take advantage? It's one of the windfall's of the liberation movement. They can be as predatory and promiscuous as men if they want. It's choice, freedom. Meet a professional woman at a gym and it often leads to no strings sex. Why get married when you can both bed attractive women and be free?"
"Imagine if everyone felt like that?"
Rob scoffed. "Think of it as a means of population control. There will always be enough baby makers around anyway, especially among immigrants."
"Is that why we court them so fiercely - because modern educated women are too superior to have kids?"

Cal thought of his wife and despaired. She had taken a job now that their sons were both in high school. No doubt she would suffer temptation, as he always had from low level staffers seeking advancement. They hardly made love any more, as their schedule conflicted. He regretted having allowed himself to be drawn into politics. He'd been as naïve as Jimmy Stewart's character in Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. He'd been suckered into believing the governor was a reformer. Instead the man had caved immediately and, within six months, was involved in an inane scandal, spreading lies to rid himself of a rival. Damage control was still being done on that one. The governor's approval rating had fallen to thirty percent. It had once been in the seventies. And now another debacle - a budget proposal greater than the rate of inflation, and this before the vultures in the state senate padded it with perks - this in the face of a possible recession. Legislators spent the tax-payers money as if they'd earned it themselves. It was as if the world had gone mad, the inmates taking over the asylum. Every night, Cal went home feeling dirty.

"You've been at this a long time," he said. "How do you stand it?"
"It's a nice living, and I never expect man to be anything but flawed."
Cal smirked. "And we're supposed to be the side governed by our better angels."
"We are. We forgive faults."
"Sounds more like we surrender to them without a fight. We all have this frightening sense of entitlement - from economics to social issues to sex. I feel like I've sold my soul."
"If you want to last in this business, you're going to have to learn to love the sinner when he's on the right side of history. This is the real world, not utopia."

Cal was almost certain he wasn't on the right side of history, although he might be on the winning side. He regretted not having trusted his initial instinct that the governor was a totalitarian thug. He'd expected hardball tactics, not deceit and deviancy. He'd been one of the thirty percent to have voted for the opposition. Even the tabloid hostile to the party had succumbed to the inevitable and endorsed the governor. And he had that lovely wife and beautiful children. Cal reasoned that he had to have been wrong, blinded by partisanship, especially since his own wife, the epitome of sound judgment, had voted for the candidate. He was flattered by the job offer, which came from left field. He took a substantial cut in pay to help the public only to find he'd become part of the club that was constantly hurting it. His wife's opinion had begun to change after the governor's first gaffe - driver's licenses for illegal aliens. He had seen the dubious in the private sector, but nothing like that in politics, and he wasn't even all the way on the inside.
"Here he comes," said Rob, shuffling papers and reaching for his briefcase.
Cal was sickened by the broad smile on the governor's face.
"I hope to have that same satisfied look very shortly," said Rob.
It was after two by the time the limousine rolled up to Cal's high-rise co-op. He had to force himself to exchange pleasantries with the doorman, as he wasn't feeling sociable. In his apartment, he moved about quietly. He started as he was stepping out of his pants, as a lamp was suddenly switched on.

"Cal?" said his wife, squinting. "Why are you sneaking around in the dark?"
He froze. It seemed an odd choice of words. Was she accusing him? It was so unfair. "I didn't want to wake you," he said defensively.
They stared at each other uncomfortably. He hadn't the energy for a fight. He hung his head.
"Sorry. The job's getting to me."
"Go back to your old one. I'm sure they'd love to have you, and you wouldn't be sneaking in late every night."
He was guilty by association, he knew. "I'm not a quitter."
"Maybe you should be this one time, as the Nazis should have."
"That's ridiculous," he snapped, heading for the bathroom, amazed at how completely her position had changed. She had become more cynical about politicians than he had been before taking the job.

He did not feel clean even after a shower.
In the morning Susan entered the bedroom, newspaper in hand, eyes wide despite the hour. "This can't be true, can it?"
He caught the paper in his lap and looked at the bold headline. The sordid truth had come out. He was troubled by the relief he felt. Although his ordeal would soon be past, that of the governor's wife and children had just begun. They were the main victims in the "victimless crime."
"The jackals paid him back."
"As if our side wouldn't use something like this."
"No wonder you were so miserable. Look at the bright side - this makes him a prime candidate for president."

His cell phone rang. It was Rob.
"Fight it?" said Cal. "You're kidding. It's over."
His spirits sank as he listened.
"Ride it out - like the Clinton thing? That's crazy. The people deserve better. He's not popular. He's lost his base."
He felt Susan's eyes trained on him as he ended the call.
"Emergency meeting," he said, avoiding her gaze, rising.
"Don't go."
"I have to."
"Are you going to be an enabler like all those pathetic political wives?"
"I'm hoping he sees the light."
"Fat chance. His ego's bigger than Ground Zero."

He took his usual seat at the round table and remained silent, listening to the arguments and strategies. He kept his eyes trained on his closed laptop, hoping, like a child who hadn't done his homework, that he wouldn't be asked his opinion. The governor's gaze eventually found him.
"We haven't heard from you, Cal. Any ideas?"
His gut contracted violently. He looked the governor in the eye and said, quietly: "The only decent and right thing to do is resign."
The room fell silent. All heads were lowered except two. Cal felt the tension close in on him as the beady eyes he'd always distrusted focused on him malevolently. He looked away, cursing himself inwardly for his cowardice. He did not understand what had motivated him to speak so candidly. It was as if his subconscious had taken complete control of his being.

"You're fired; get out," said the governor in a calm tone that belied rage.
Heart pounding, lightheaded, Cal gathered his belongings and left, his footsteps all that penetrated the eerie silence. As he made his way down the corridor of power, he heard a familiar, profane ranting. He almost felt sorry for the soon to be ex-governor. As for himself, he was experiencing equal parts relief and shame. It was the first time he'd ever been fired. He'd hoped to go away quietly once the resignation was submitted. His eyes glazed as he stepped out into the crisp air of early spring. His hands were shaking as he dialed his wife's cell phone number.