She was bone-tired, drained, a victim of post-adrenaline crash. And all the problems would be there tomorrow. She was barely in the door when Pickett called. It had taken him thirty minutes. “You can’t do that!” “Of course I can. I’m the governor. I can fire the whole friggin’ bunch if I want to. Get my own Posse.” “You are sabotaging my chance to be president. I’ve got new poll results, Cooper. I’m gaining. Money’s starting to come in. I’m adding staff. I am busting my ass, and so are a lot of people helping me, and it’s working. If I keep moving like this, I can win South Carolina and New Hampshire. And if I win there, other things begin to fall into place.” “Pickett, the primaries are a year away, for God’s sake.” “But now’s the time when I either become a contender or flame out. People are beginning to think I’m real, and I either capitalize on that or slide back. There’s no standing still. One screwup and I’m dead meat.” He paused, and the silence hung between them.
