The Means by Douglas Brunt Read Free Book Online

of the last four elections. Benson wants my money, he thinks, but these kinds of connections can’t hurt.
    Tom pulls onto Cameron Boulevard. The Duke campus is on his right and he makes a left into the parking lot of the inn. “Jesus,” Tom says out loud. If this guy picked the Washington Duke, he must be a Duke fan.
    People in North Carolina support either Duke basketball or UNC basketball. Everyone’s a fan and everyone takes a side. Eighty percent of the state are for UNC. Tom went to undergrad and law school at UNC, so he’s more than a casual fan. Tom has friends who are Duke fans, but he can’t stand to be near them during the season. All those asinine cheers and fight songs.
    Tom steers around the circular drive up to the front of the inn and valets the car. He walks through the lobby which he thinks is full of too much Duke crap, then into the Bull Durham Lounge.
    On the left is a long bar made of dark wood. To the right are windows overlooking the golf course. The far wall is mostly a massive fireplace that is not lit. The carpet is dark blue and throughout the room are small round bar tables with bowls of nuts and leather chairs that are wide and look heavy.
    A burly, balding man who looks like a drinker gets up from a chair by the fire. He moves with athleticism as though his gut is something he just carries around for exercise.
    He makes for Tom Pauley and starts his handshake from behind his ear, something Tom noticed Obama always used to do that he found annoying and dramatic. The man swings his hand around like throwing a football and clasps where Tom has simply put his hand out.
    He seems like the kind of guy who greets all his friends by slapping their backs and calling them old sons of bitches. He says, “Benson Hill. How the hell are you? Your mug looks just like it does on TV. A pleasure to meet you.”
    â€œNice to meet you, Benson.” Tom decides he likes him already. He likes people who are characters, people who put themselves out there.
    â€œCongratulations on the Darby case. Big win.”
    â€œThank you. Sometimes the system works.”
    â€œGood for you. Good for you. Drink?”
    â€œGin and tonic.”
    â€œGood man, good man.”
    Benson orders with a waiter and they drag two leather chairs closer together by the fire.
    â€œYou really poured yourself into their defense. All pro bono.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYou’re a real servant of the people.”
    â€œIt feels good to do good.” Tom toasts the air and drinks. “Somebody said that.”
    â€œRight. Tom, I’ll tell you a bit about me, then I’d like to learn a bit more about you. Is that okay?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œYou know who I am?”
    â€œYou’re with the Republican Party of North Carolina.”
    â€œCorrect.”
    â€œExactly what is the Republican Party of North Carolina? Besides just you.”
    â€œIt’s not even me, really. I’m just a rich guy. Full-time, permanent staff in an off-election year? Maybe four people. The chairman and a few people answering phones. It’s just a place to receive fund-raising. In election years it balloons to twenty full-timers or so. We’re like a traveling circus. After the show we fold up tents and everyone disperses.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œMy day job though is dry cleaning. I have thirty locations throughout the Research Triangle Park area. This is the last bastion of non-­Korean dry cleaners on the planet.” He laughs and his belly moves like a kid shifting in a sleeping bag. “Dry cleaning is a very scalable business. Any businessman trying to grow is going to be Republican.”
    Tom nods. He lines up mostly with the Republican platform on economic issues but he’s never been very political and doesn’t like talking about it, certainly not out of the home.
    â€œSo tell me about yourself, Tom. Why did you get into the law?”
    This is