It's 2016, a trepidatious election year, and choices have to be made about the direction of the nation and in our personal lives. Caught in this political and cultural tug of war are Jamie Drexler, an apolitical nationally syndicated cartoonist, and Ben Montgomery, a paid political operative. From the moment they first meet on a frosty afternoon in Charlottesville, Virginia, their relationship roars from a one-night stand into an example that politics makes strange bedfellows.
Their personal-is-the-political revolution emerges the first night they sleep together in which their prior top/bottom roles are reversed and, much to each other’s surprise, welcomed and enjoyed. Then, alone in his condo, Jamie takes the risk of a lifetime and sets aside an unfinished cartoon to draw, ink, and frame a very special Christmas gift for Ben. As the primary season continues from Iowa to New Hampshire and eventually into Virginia, they celebrate by sharing and reciprocating the results by stuffing their own ballot boxes.
When their relationship intensifies, will Jamie and Ben grow more comfortable in their own skins and allow their vulnerabilities to ignite a revolution of the heart?
“Hop in,” Ben ordered. “You look like a fool standing in the snow.”
Jamie complied. “Was that your feigned attempt at being funny?” he quipped while clicking his seatbelt.
“It could be,” Ben answered, pulling out of the neighborhood. He turned the car in the opposite direction from the headquarters and toward the business district.
“Um ... isn’t the campaign headquarters the other way?”
Ben nodded.
“Then, why are we heading to this end of town?”
“I thought maybe we could get some coffee and warm up. Or, eat something before heading back. That is, if you have time.”
Jamie nodded. “I’ll eat anything.”
“Good, because I recently discovered this quaint little coffee shop just down the road. Are you familiar with Tripoli’s?”
A smile overcame Jamie’s face. “I am. Nice coffee and an equally nice atmosphere, too.”
Ben pulled the rental into Tripoli’s parking lot, and blew air into his cupped hands. Jamie, already used to the weather, felt the conditions were more brisk than cold. “I came in here the other day and fell in love with it,” Ben said, as they walked toward the entrance. From the outside, the shop wasn’t all that spectacular. From the inside, well, they might as well have been transported to the Mediterranean.
Jamie scoured the menu, and smiled after he found what he was looking for. “You should really try their desserts. They’re to die for.”
“Feel the Bern!” the barista chimed, sauntering from around the corner. She pointed to the button adorned on Ben’s lapel.
“Feel the Bern!” Ben and Jamie greeted, in unison. They turned and glanced at each other with more than just coincidental smiles.
“Sugar free vanilla latte,” Ben said, handing over his credit card.
The barista wrote the order and his name on a paper cup and glanced toward Jamie. He caught her eye and said, “Raspberry kiss, please.”
An awkward expression overcame Ben’s face. “Raspberry kiss?” he inquired.
The barista laughed. “Sorry, that’s what we call a white chocolate mocha with a pump of raspberry syrup.” She glanced in Jamie’s direction and asked, “Anything to eat?”
Jamie nodded and said, “You should take a sip of my kiss. One taste is all it takes to become addicted.” He squatted and peered into the pastry case. “Um, an almond filled croissant.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
The campaigners found a corner seat by the window. Jamie felt awkward when Ben pulled his phone from his front pocket and began thumbing out a text message. It was only after Ben pressed the SEND button, did he notice Jamie had already retrieved their drinks and pastries. “I hope you don’t mind me being presumptuous,” he said. “I had her give me an extra fork.”
“Don’t mind at all,” Ben chimed. He slid the phone in his front pocket and stirred his latte. He took a gentle sip and closed his eyes, entering a mid-meditative state.
“Have you been doing this long?”
“Drinking coffee? Ever since I was an undergrad,” Ben answered. His eyes were still closed.
Jamie chuckled. “No, I meant politics.”
Ben opened his eyes and before answering, took a longer sip. “About three years,” he said. “After a bad break up. I floundered a little bit. Did some odd jobs and suddenly found myself working on a congressional campaign in northern Virginia. Next thing I knew, I found myself in Vermont. Now, I’m here.”
Jamie forked the edge of the almond croissant into his mouth, more almond paste than pastry. “What was his name?”
“The candidate?”
“Your ex?” Jamie asked, trying to catch the crumbs from his mouth.
“Mark,” Ben answered. Tiny dollops of his drink sloshed from the plastic cover’s tiny slit. “How’d you know I was gay?”
Jamie smiled and gave a sly wink. “I have excellent gaydar.”
“You, too?”
The volunteer smiled once more and gave a nice, polite nod.
The two sat in awkward silence. Ben removed his phone and started thumbing more text messages while Jamie glanced around the coffee shop. “And what do you do when you’re not volunteering for the revolution?” Ben asked, plopping his phone back in his front pocket.
There was another polite chuckle. “Believe it or not, I’m a cartoonist.”
“You’re right,” Ben said. “I don’t believe it.”
Jamie forked more of the almond croissant in his mouth, this time getting more of the flaky pastry. He pushed the plate towards Ben and said, “Fine. Have it your way. I was just pulling your leg.”
The response was so serious Ben couldn’t tell if the volunteer was telling the truth or if it was just another lie from another man who wanted something more than what he could give.
