Imperative Fate Read Online Free PDF

what won’t and what invariably won’t work is the Fed.
    “If a politico changes, it’ll be evident in the way he talks, his connectivity. Some psychologists talk about a Mandate Theory; that when a candidate wins, they believe everybody around them are yes-men. They believe that because they won, they’re God’s gift to the world and you must agree with them or you’re defective. Of course, that’s wrong. A statesman must never forget he’s a servant more than a leader.
    “A statesman must never forget he never clocks out from doing or saying the right thing. Now, Anthony doesn’t have to be a wonk, but he should be good and sharp. Politicos have to be on their game even when there’s no microphone around, even when they’re off-the-cuff. With all the recording devices and all the seedy journalists lurking about, it’s easy to look like an idiot. If you don’t open yourself up to that, to dulling your mind or morals, you’ll beat the game.
    “Daddy isn’t redundant. He knows the trick: saying the same thing a million times without getting old. Every time Daddy speaks—and he tweaks and nit-picks the speeches himself—it’s new and it’s classic. Even though it’s truly not. He’s saying the same things Thomas Jefferson said and repackaging them. He’s riding the coattails of James Madison. He’s by the good ol’ book and the Constitution, and that ironically makes him a freak. When he feels entitled, he is lost.
    “You’ll know, Dahlia. You’ll know if Anthony is turning into a bad guy. His speech pattern will get vaguer, he’ll be colder, and he’ll have less time for you.” 
    Thoughtfully grinding my teeth, I just stared at her. Her words felt so practiced and intense—eerie—like she’d been waiting to give me that advice since I said I was Anthony’s daughter.
    The more I communicate with Ellie Anne, the more I question my commitment to finding release this way, in a poor persona. Certainly, Ellie wasn’t lying or mistaken, but maybe this was a Polaroid of her former inclinations towards her father. Mr. Moss sure didn’t seem to walk the walk when it came to being a “good ol’” family man. I’ve spent a solid twenty hours with Ellie Anne and not seen her father approach her once.
    Maybe there was a bitter, little child inside of Ellie, as hinted by the stuffed animals, social withdrawal, and attention-getting look-at-me clothing. Maybe there was a bitter, little politician inside of Ellie, as hinted by her cynical knowledge.
    But, with all the mending I had to do, I couldn’t be taxed by any more of Ellie Anne’s weird mannerisms. I had to escape the vaguely disturbing pictures Ellie painted and I had to accost Anthony before he severed our chances to taste Washington, D.C., in whole.
    ~ *** ~
    Throwing an eco-mag to the ground, bitter as the java he consumed as voraciously as birds do bugs, he graveled, “What’re ya doin’, Ree?” like he wasn’t expecting me.
    We share this fuckin’ room, Anny. You forget? I wanted to say but tamed my tongue. I patted the creases out of my skirt and smiled as any little lady should—on the outside. “Tryin’ to apologize. But you’re making it difficult in that shade of intolerance, buddy boy,” I churned as soft as butter.
    “Oh really?” He countered drily, “How’re ya gonna do that? Did you bring me flowers, love?”
    The last word was hard as steel. I bid a minuscule laugh. Anthony never preserves grudges but he was never called a push-over neither. I ironed out the folds in my forehead too. My glower was anything but playful after I boarded the armrest abreast him. “Nope, you already took my flower, ’member, Anny?” I recalled, rolling my eyes to meet my long lashes.
    “If you could just jog my memory . . . I think we could work somethin’ out,” he enticed, a dab more friendly, lechery prevailing in his hazel eyes.
    Oh, you’re lucky you’re good-looking! I simpered. “As in . . .” I paused like I was