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Cain and Bobby, Jack and Abel?
Variations on the Bush Years
A Short Timeline by Japhy​

The Campaign of a Thousand Miles...

Bush For Governor Campaign Headquarters
Miami, Florida
November 8th, 1994

He slumped in his chair, the door closed for a moment and for the first time in more than twenty hours he was by himself. He placed his glasses on the desk and closed his eyes.

A few deep breaths.

Thats all he needed.

It had been hell today. He wasn’t sure how many speeches he’d given today, or in the past week, or in the past three months. His hands hurt. His throat was sore from all the times he had to yell out terms like “Pragmatism” and “Consensus”.

But the night wasn’t over yet. It was going to be a long hall, one of the interns was already out getting Chinese food brought in by the crate, from at least half a dozen all night restaurants, as what should have been a victory celebration was rapidly turning into ground zero for the counter-attack.

But first things first, he had to make a call. He wasn’t mad about it, but there was another family event going on tonight that was going a hell of a lot smoother.

“George.”

“Hiya, Jeb!” Said the voice on the other line, it was a bit hard to hear, people were clearly celebrating close by, probably in another room.

“I just wanted to call, and say Congratulations, looks like you cleared Richards by at least four points."

“Congratulations to you too Jeb.” There was just a hint of a pause. “Laura and I have been watching the news on Satellite.”

“Mind if I borrow a point or two from you before you say that?” He joked. “It’s definitely going to be a recount down here. Some sort of question as to things down in Palm Beach.”

“Yeah.” The elder brother was quiet for another moment. Jeb knew it wasn’t that he was slow thinking of a response, George was always sharp, he just doubted what came out of his mouth sometimes.

“They’re going to do that, it’s just how it goes. Chiles is kicking up a mess because he knows he blew it, Sore Loser Games and all that crap.”

Jeb cracked a small weary smile at that. “I hope you’re right George. We’ll know in a day or two at least.”

“I’m telling you, you won it. You’re the Brains in this outfit, and you know it. You got it in the bag. Wait a minute.” He stopped for a minute as he spoke to someone else in Texas. “Karl wants you to know he’s calling it for you.”

The smile vanished at the name of that… man.

“Tell him I appreciate that. But we’ll just have to wait on the recount. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Tell Laura and the Girls I love them. See you at Kennebunkport, Governor.” His brother laughed.

“Same for Columba and the kids, Jeb. We’ll talk again soon, Governor.”​

---------​

Florida Governor's Mansion
Tallahassee, Florida
March 22nd, 1999

Jeb Bush almost leap out of his office chair when the older man entered the room.

“George! Its a pleasure. Anything to drink?” He said as they shook hands.

The Elder Statesmen nodded. “Scotch.” Came out in one of those polished, deep voices that sounded all the same like they should naturally be gravelly, the voice of an establishment figure from another era.

Jeb was quick to the cabinet, and poured two glasses of twenty-year old Bowmore, and handed one of the glasses to his guest. George P. Schultz swirled the Florida-required ice cubes around the glass for a moment before he took a sip. “Damned good Islay, damned good.”

Jeb let out a breath, and then realized he hadn’t been breathing for a moment.

God was he getting worried about this?

But of course he was, but he had to make sure he didn’t look worried.

He took a sip of the scotch too. It was good, but he knew that, he let himself enjoy the smoky peat taste for just a moment. This was business.

“How was the flight down for you George?”

“Wonderful. A private flight is always easier.” Said Schultz, who then moved in his seat. “Marvelous weather, marvelous scotch. You know Jeb, you’ve been doing a hell of a job as Governor down here and…” He continued.

So that's it.

“... and the whole party is glad to see the work you’ve been able to put in with the Cuban vote, this whole business of seizing the center is going to work well in more and more of the swing states for Senate and Gubernatorial races.” Schultz took another drink. He was waiting.

“But not for the Presidential race, not with me anyway.”

“To be blunt. No. Clinton’s dragging the party down with him, and frankly we’re having the same problem thanks to Gingrich. Consensus-building is good in a state like Florida where we need to build up, but with all this crap that we have to deal with thanks to Starr and Barr and the rest of those idiots we need someone who can put their foot down. A hard Conservative.”

“George, you know I’m not Jim Jeffords.” Jeb said firmly, making sure not to plead.

The old suit nodded. “I know that Jeb. But the National Committee have been talking it over, speaking with donors, and old fossils like me. We’ve got to contain the problems Newt has gotten us into."

"So you think I'm good enough to help deliver the state but not good enough to deliver the country?"

"No one's attacking you for what you have to do down here Jeb. But you’re not the man we need to get the Oval Office back."

“So who is?”

“Your Brother.”​

---------​

Florida Governor's Mansion
Tallahassee, Florida
June 14th, 1999

He slumped in his chair, the door closed for a moment and for the first time in more than twenty hours he was by himself. He placed his glasses on the desk and closed his eyes.

A few deep breaths.

Thats all he needed.

It had been a hell of a week. The Governorship wasn’t a particularly an easy job, with enough appearances and meetings and briefings to tire out a man who wasn’t contemplating a whole other batch of issues. Especially when those issues were required to be kept quiet, and in the smallest possible circle. His head hurt. His eyes were strained from all of the quiet poll numbers he’d had commissioned and the quiet notes passed by a singular aide as word came in from a few discrete sources in the business community and from the beltway.

But everything depended on what he decided to do tonight. There was a small meeting room here in the Governor’s Mansion where a small team of staffers was already calling in for sandwiches in preparation.

But first things first, he had to make a phone call. It didn’t take any time, he had the private number to call anyway.

“Dad.”

“Jeb? What time is it? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Dad. Its ten to eleven. I’m sorry to be calling so late.”

He could hear his father adjusting himself in bed along with the sound of a hand muffled over the receiver as the Forty-First President of the United States said “Its just Jeb calling Barbra, go back to sleep.”

The voice came in clearer after that. “Its not a problem Jeb, whats going on?”

“I just need to ask you something Dad. It’s important.”

“You know I’m always here to give you advice.”

“What would you say if I told you I was going to run?”

There was something between a sigh and a gasp on the other end.

“Run now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d tell you I love you, and I’ve always been proud of you.”

There was nothing else for a minute. Just the two of them breathing. Jeb felt himself deflating. He’d done it, the thing he’d been dreading for weeks. He was drained.

Eventually his father spoke again. “And you’d be a damned good President.”

Jeb placed his hand over his closed eyes, they were wet. A closed smile spread across his face, and he rocked himself back and forth a little bit.

“Jeb?”

“Yeah Dad.”

“You know your Brother would be a good one too.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I couldn't choose. Not one over the other.”

“I know.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“I will.”

“Jeb.” Another long pause. “Just, before you do this. Think of the party.”

“I am.”​
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