I glanced across the room at Averett, who was always on the phone or in some huddle with one or more shadowy-looking operators presumably tasked with unearthing some bombshell to blow up Marylou Greene’s campaign.

“He’s an asshole, Arch,” I said.

“Maybe,” Arch said. “But sometimes you need someone to shovel the shit so you can keep your own shirt clean.”

Later that afternoon, between appointments, I dropped in on Vanessa at the house on the Boulevard. She knew what was on my mind.

“Don’t say it,” she said.

I couldn’t help myself. “‘Liberal Trojan horse’?”

“He’s my husband,” she said. “Would you have said no if you were me? Would you have said no if he’d asked you?”

“Here’s a better question,” I said. “Would you have asked him?”

“We’ve put a lot into this,” she said. “And it’s not just for Arch. It’s for all of us. You too.”

“I just didn’t think—I mean, is this the spirit of Nashville?”

“Maybe it’s not the same Nashville you knew before you left,” she said.

“Or maybe it is,” I said. “Maybe it always was.”

“Thanks for the lecture. Don’t you have something to paint?”

Rather than feeling affronted, I felt chastened. Who was I to question her? She was guilty of nothing but loyalty. I’d made more than my share of compromises for love, after all.

Two weeks before the runoff, Arch called me into his office.

“I want you to reach out to your buddy Terrence,” he said.

“Why?”

“I have a proposition for him.”

The way he said it sounded wrong to me. “What’d you have in mind?”

“I need a little help in North Nashville,” he said.

I reached for my cigarettes but remembered Arch didn’t allow smoking in the office.

“I don’t know, Arch,” I said. “That would feel a little weird.”

“I’m just asking you to make a phone call,” he said. “I’ll take it from there.”

“All right,” I said.

Terrence picked up on the third ring. “Charlie,” he said.

“How’d you know it was me?” I asked.

“Caller ID,” he said. “Got you in my contacts.”

“I just got one of these things,” I said. “I’m still learning my way around it. So what are you up to?”

“Gettin’ swole,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Working out.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right. Look, is this a bad time?”

“No, I’m good,” he said. “You got me between sets.”

“Okay.”

Arch signaled to me to get on with it.

“Listen,” I said. “I’m calling you for a favor. You know who Arch Creigh is, right?”

“Seen him on the TV. Spirit of Nashville.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, he’s an old friend of mine, remember?”

“I remember,” he said. “What do you need?”

“Arch wants to meet you.”