America 1982-Chapter 487 - 91: How Much Do You Love Him?_2

"The first thing I did after your charitable organization donated two hundred thousand to Jeff’s campaign action committee, just as you instructed, was to hire a professional campaign stylist to package Jeff’s family of five. My image comes as an extra bonus; he’s hoping to work with us long-term. That guy even set strict rules that I can’t eat fast food, drink cola, or toss cigarette butts everywhere, and he gave me this." But Martin seemed a bit disgruntled with his situation; he then turned, picked up a white mug devoid of any design from the table, and complained to Tommy:

"He also said that this is the only thing I can use to drink coffee from and that I can’t add too much milk. Plus, during work hours, I can’t eat greasy or strong-smelling food; I need to look clean and sharp."

"Looks like you’re taking his words very seriously," Tommy said with satisfaction, nodding his head, "One should always listen to the advice of a professional in such matters."

"If I don’t follow it, how can I convince Jeff to listen? Honestly, I don’t want to listen to that guy." Martin sighed, "That bastard said my hairstyle looked like dog shit. I’m the best hairstylist in Little Haiti, damn it."

Tommy took a sip of cola through a straw, "And Jeff?"

"I called him ten minutes ago, he’s being taken by the designer to get a tattoo, and his wife Jessica is crying because the stylists donated all her previous clothes to the church and forced her into bras that make her chest look perkier, but she just can’t fit into them." Martin shook his head while filling Tommy in on Jeff’s latest situation, then picked up the car keys from the table and said:

"I can personally drive you to see this candidate who helped your charity earn seven hundred thousand in dirty political money."

"Impressive, Martin; we haven’t seen each other for two weeks, and you’ve already learned the term ’dirty political money,’" Tommy teased Martin with a chuckle.

Seven churches, relying on Gary Duny’s legitimacy and Tommy Hawk’s sophistry, as well as the political promises made on behalf of Jeff Raven for after his election victory, finally contributed a total of seven hundred thousand in donations, of which Tommy contributed two hundred thousand to Jeff’s campaign action committee.

Martin and Tommy left the company, and Martin then helped Tommy into the rented Cadillac business sedan, "I learned it from a TV host. They swear up and down that Jeff must have taken dirty political money; otherwise, he wouldn’t even be on the list of candidates competing with others, able to spend manpower and money, posting campaign ads everywhere. Now I feel what you said was completely right, Boss; politics makes more money than dosing square pigeons with laxatives—seven hundred thousand. Even if we dosed every pigeon in Miami, they wouldn’t crap out that much money." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Martin now held Tommy in awe. When they came to Miami for a vacation, they were practically penniless. But in less than a month, he had become the founder of a campaign consulting company, a campaign manager for a senatorial candidate. Even though he was overwhelmed by the campaign work every day, just thinking about the over one hundred thousand in campaign funds, the team of over a dozen staff members, living in a business hotel, and driving a hired luxury business sedan made it all feel like a dream to Martin.

Even more exaggerated was Tommy standing behind him, already holding five hundred thousand.

Five hundred thousand, a sum many Americans won’t earn in a lifetime, and there was his boss, Tommy, who seemed to be on vacation in Florida, earning it in two weeks. Moreover, he didn’t even need to disclose the names of the donors. This money didn’t need to be guaranteed to be spent on Jeff’s campaign, just an excuse for charity work was enough to transfer the money from the foundation’s account to his wallet. The simplest method was to buy advertising space on his own TV station, quote a high price, and then the political dirty money would become clean money under Tommy’s control.

"Are we still going out, Boss?" Martin asked, holding the steering wheel and speaking to Tommy, who was flipping through the newspaper in the back seat.

Tommy, reading about the campaign on the newspaper, replied, "No, we’ll rest until after Jeff’s party nomination speech, and then we’ll go make more money."

"There’s more money to be made?"

"Of course. Now, those candidates who originally stood a chance but are now seeing their hopes fade with Jeff’s unexpected rise—those candidates’ backers who need to place their bets elsewhere due to their withdrawal—that’s when we’ll find a way to get them to bet on Jeff." Tommy explained, "I thought by the time I came back after two weeks, you’d have this whole process down pat."

"I’ve managed to place Jeff’s two buddies and all of his family relatives into the campaign team to draw a salary," Martin said cautiously, "I’ve seen other campaign teams do the same."

"Get to the point, Martin," Tommy said, glancing at Martin, then went back to reading his newspaper.

Martin licked his lips, "Uh... There are also a few of my relatives working in the campaign team. I assure you, they are genuinely working, not slacking off. To prevent them from slacking, I’ve even had Page supervise them."

"How’s it feel not having Page around?" Tommy smiled.

Seeing his boss wasn’t thunderous over him getting relatives involved for profit, Martin also grinned, showing his white teeth, "Fantastic, it’s like every day is a Roman Holiday."

Martin drove Tommy to Jeff’s house, which they hadn’t seen in a while. As they got out of the car, Tommy even doubted they were at the right place. The house was still the same, but the colorful flowers in the front yard had been removed, leaving only a monotonous but tidy greenery. An United States Army flag and an American flag crossed above the roof, forming a flag gate. The dog kennel on the right side of the front yard was still there, but the previously cute little dogs were nowhere to be seen. In their place was a Canary Mastiff, its neck adorned with a bandana featuring the American flag pattern, sitting in the yard, scaring pedestrians on the street enough to make them clench their cheeks.