by J D Wade
I got the fuck out.
Super Tuesday was when I was going to make my exit. Well, after the results of Super Tuesday, anyway. However, after speaking with Katie, I knew that my exit could serve a bigger purpose for Nathan’s campaign. If I couldn’t have Nathan, the least I could do was leave him with something useful. My absence.
Though I hadn’t said anything to anyone—not even Nathan, not even Cheri—Katie had found out from a friend who worked on Governor Ledbetter’s campaign that Marty Goldman had come to him with “dirt” on Nathan. Katie asked me if it was true, what Marty Goldman said about Nathan and I and our “inappropriate relationship.” Of course, I told Katie the truth—Nathan and I merely worked on his social media, no more, no less. Whatever Marty Goldman said wasn’t true. Katie rightfully believed me but was concerned about what kind of scandal it would create for the campaign. So, we formulated a plan. I told her to feed information to her friend that the best time for Governor Ledbetter to “go public” with his so-called “dirt” would be during Nathan’s morning meeting with his campaign staff because they’d be too busy to even know what hit them until the damage was done. I told Katie to leave the rest to me.
Then I told Nathan I was leaving, and I did.
Then I recorded a video that would show where I was, when I was there, and waited until right before Governor Ledbetter’s press conference to upload it. If he thought that Marty and he were going to surprise Nathan’s campaign with a made-up scandal, I’d just turn the tables. Politicians have nothing on Social Media Influencers when it comes to starting—and ending—drama. Of course, I had been napping when the whole thing went down, so I only got to watch news clips on CNN.com, MSNBC.com, and even FOX News. Even the conservative channels were relishing in Governor Ledbetter getting caught trying to spread lies about Nathan and his campaign.
I don’t usually subscribe to schadenfreude, but when one person tries to sabotage someone, especially with information that is simply not true, and it backfires—well, that’s just a good time.
The only downside to the whole situation was that afterward, I never got a text from Nathan. Or even Katie. Even when Nathan basically swept all but one state on Super Tuesday, I didn’t hear anything. Not that I had really expected to, though it would have been nice. I had left Nathan in the lurch after all, so I didn’t really expect him to want to reach out and talk to me anytime soon. He was probably still sore about me jumping ship early. I couldn’t blame him. We had barely become friendly during my time with his campaign anyway. I’d been with him long enough to solve a crisis and do some social media work. Why would he text me?
Having Tuniverse to turn to after such a whirlwind time on the campaign trail was a blessing. Even if I still wasn’t quite sure what it was I was going to do to move forward with my brand, at least I had some ideas. I finally understood that I wanted to make the world a better place, even if only in small ways. If I could have fun with my followers but also educate them more on social issues, maybe that could be my contribution? I could still be fun and funny “Timmy” but put a little more depth and meaning into what I did for a living?
What are we all doing with our jobs and lives if not looking for a purpose?
Over the few days that followed Super Tuesday, Cheri and I continued brainstorming, I did some deep dives into the news and internet sites to educate myself more on what was going on in the world. Then I started to develop an outline of what Tuniverse would end up being for the foreseeable future. Though I wasn’t producing videos quickly enough to upload, I made sure to share some pictures of myself and Larry, as well as interesting places around my neighborhood on Instagram. You know, just to whet my followers’ appetites. I didn’t want them to forget me, after all. Not having a job with a political campaign anymore meant that I still had to work on Tuniverse like before.
A few days after Super Tuesday, I had spent the entire morning and afternoon working on an outline for rebranding Tuniverse, making new graphics, shooting new promos, outlining new video ideas, and preparing myself for the next wave on my channel. I had planned to work through the entire evening and into the night since I had nothing better to do. However, it was a Friday, and as she was wont to do, Cheri texted me, insisting that we go out for a much-deserved night on the town. First dinner, then drinks, then maybe some dancing.
At six o’clock that evening, I was showered, dressed to impress, and ready to leave my apartment—poor Larry—to meet Cheri. She had texted me the name and address of a new Thai fusion place opening a few blocks from her apartment, which was only ten minutes by foot. Only having to leave my apartment fifteen minutes before seven to meet Cheri on time was nice. Having a friend nearby in such a large city made me feel a lot less isolated. It’s one thing to have a lot of followers on the internet, but real-life friends are special.
Just as I was contemplating having a few pre-game drinks before I left my apartment, and as the sun was making its final descent towards the horizon, a knock sounded at my door. Assuming that Cheri had decided to meet me at my apartment so that we could walk to the restaurant together had me racing for the door, swinging it wide.
“Just couldn’t wait another hour, could ya’, bitch?” I laughed as I opened the door.
“Bitch?” Nathan Reed, with two Secret Service agents backing him up, stood in my doorway, grinning at me.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” I jumped, startled at the sight before me. “I thought you were my friend. We’re supposed to meet for dinner in an hour.”
“Why would it be your friend if you’re supposed to meet them there?” He asked.
The agents just stood there, hands clasped at their waists.
“No clue,” I answered quickly. “What—what are you doing here, Mr. Reed?”
He frowned as he stood there, staring at me for a moment.
“Do you mind if they come in with me?” He gestured to the agents. “Just to make sure there’s no threat to my safety? They don’t like letting me go into strange places to have private talks unless they check them out first.”
“Um, yeah.” I shrugged. “I guess. Come check the place out, Agent Nash, Agent Bronson.”
Both agents smiled at me still remembering their names—as though I would have forgotten them in under a week—and entered the apartment as Nathan led them. I moved back from the door and let them enter, then gently shut it behind them. Nathan strode into my living room, which wasn’t that far of a journey, and began looking around, as though he had never seen an apartment before. Agents Nash and Bronson made a cursory look around the place, not that there was much to see, then headed back towards the door, satisfied that Nathan would be safe.
“We’ll be outside.” Agent Nash said to Nathan as I opened the door for them.
“All right,” Nathan responded, his eyes on the bank of windows overlooking the street and the sunset.
Agent Nash gave me a friendly nudge as he passed, and Agent Bronson just smiled. Once they were outside, positioned on either side of the door, I shut it gently.
“I brought you your fee,” Nathan said, though he didn’t turn to look at me.
“You know, the banks are doing amazing things with electronic transfers these days,” I replied as I walked into the living room to join him. “A mailed check would have been fine. Or a shit ton of Starbucks gift cards. Whatever.”
Nathan smiled at me as I rounded him.
“Seventy-five thousand in Starbucks gift cards?” He asked. “How long would that last you?”
“I’d probably give them away to followers,” I admitted. “I can’t stand the stuff.”
“I’ve seen you drink coffee.”
“Well, yeah. Real coffee. Not coffee-flavored milk, further flavored by syrup and whipped cream.” I chuckled. “But beggars can’t be choosers in this economy, Nate.”
He cringed. “I still hate that. But it’s better than ‘Mr. Reed,’ I guess.”
I glanced at the door.
“I know,” He said. “The ag
ents.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re in town for a rally tonight. Primaries.”
“Got it.”
“And I wanted to deliver your fee in person.” He reached into the inner breast pocket of his blazer.
“That wasn’t necessary,” I said.
Nathan made a dismissive sound as he extracted a check and held it out to me. Without looking at it, I took it from him and stepped over to stuff it between a couple of books in my bookshelf. Nathan watched the entire transaction with amusement.
“You’re not even going to make sure I didn’t screw you over and put ‘five bucks’ or something?” He teased.
“I’m pretty sure you’re an honest guy.”
“I try.”
“What time is the rally?”
“Seven.” He lifted his arm and pushed back his sleeve to look at his watch.
The man has a phone for God’s sake. He doesn’t need a watch. He’s so adorable.
“But I didn’t want to come to town without delivering that,” He gestured at the bookcase, “and to thank you.”
“I did what you hired me to do,” I said.
“Marty Goldman hired you to do.” He smiled. “Which I’m sure she regrets right now.”
“Hope so,” I said. “I mean, she’s kind of an asshole.”
“Katie told me what you did.” He was suddenly serious. “Finally. She didn’t tell me until after Super Tuesday, but she told me how she found out about what Ledbetter and Marty had planned. You not only solved one of my crises, but you also averted another.”
“By leaving.”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m glad I could help. And take some of your money in the process.”
He chuckled that chuckle I loved so much.
“You’re a special guy, Timothy.”
Nathan started to reach out for me, thought better of it, and let his hand fall to his side once more.
“I know I kind of gave you shit the first time we met, but you’re a really decent guy.”
“You’ll have my vote in November,” I said. “If that tells you how I feel about your decency.”
“I’ve never been prouder to have a person’s vote in my life,” He said as he stepped around me, heading for the door, obviously ready to go now that he had brought me the check for my fee. “I’m just sorry that you didn’t want to stay around through the election. And after, once I obviously win.”
I laughed. “Yeah. But I’d always be a distraction. I’m sure you haven’t heard the last of Marty Goldman. Snakes don’t just slither away. They always pop out from time to time.”
Nathan smiled.
“She’s definitely a snake,” He said. “But we’ll handle her each time she pops out of her hole.”
“For what it’s worth, I enjoyed my time on your campaign, Nathan,” I said as I led him to the door. “And I believe in you. I mean, you’ll make a great president in 2021. I’m sure of it.”
As we approached the door, Nathan turned suddenly, his eyes piercing into mine.
“Was I wrong?” He asked.
“Wrong?” I asked. “About what?”
“Well, I guess what I mean is, were they wrong?”
“What? What are you talking about? Who?”
“Ledbetter and Marty.” He said softly. “Were they wrong? Was our relationship inappropriate?”
“I wouldn’t think so.” I frowned. “Maybe I didn’t go through the standard hiring and background check situation your other employees went through, but—”
“Yeah, well, I never wanted to kiss one of my employees before,” He said, cutting me off.
My eyes grew wide as what he said registered in my brain.
“What?”
“I don’t think that had anything to do with the hiring process, Tim,” He said, his body moving closer so that I could smell his cologne. “In fact, I know it didn’t.”
“Nathan—”
“Have you ever wanted to kiss a boss before?” He muttered, dangerously close.
“Well, no,” I admitted. “But I’ve always worked for old guys.”
“I’m an old guy.” He grinned.
“You’re not an old guy.” I smiled. “You’re going to be the youngest president ever.”
“The bar is low.”
“That’s fair, but still.”
“In a few minutes,” Nathan moved even closer, our chests almost touching, his breath warm against my face, “I have to walk out of this door to go to a rally. Then tomorrow, I’m in a different state. Then another and another. I’ll be on the road almost every day until next year. If things go my way, I mean.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, dejected.
“So, I don’t want to miss an opportunity to be the old guy who used to be your boss who got the first kiss you gave one of your bosses.”
“It’s kind of creepy when you say it like that.” I teased.
“So, is that a ‘no?’”
“No,” I said. “I mean, yeah, I’ll kiss you. I want to kiss you. But, then what?”
“What do you mean?” His lips were so close.
“You can’t date the guy who you got accused of having an inappropriate relationship with that turned out to not be true, right?” I suggested. “You can’t really date while you’re campaigning anyway. I don’t really know the rules for single presidents and their dating life at all, but—”
Then his hands were on the sides of my face, and his lips were on mine. At first, my eyes went wide with shock, but once I realized what was happening, they slid shut, and I melted into him, my hands going to his waist as my lips responded to his.
Fuck. Older guys know how to kiss.
Though it never could have gone as long as I would have wanted, the kiss was perfect. When Nathan pulled away, I was almost afraid to open my eyes for fear that I would find out it had all been a dream. When my eyes did flutter open finally, my lips still pursed like Larry’s when he was floating around happily; Nathan was smiling bashfully at me, his hands still holding my face.
“Not bad for an old guy?” He asked.
“Not bad for anyone,” I whispered.
“I don’t know how single presidents can date either.” He whispered against my mouth. “And I know it will be bad—optically—for us to date right now.”
“Right.” My hands were still on his waist.
“But, we have our phones.” He suggested with a grin. “And, I think that the American people would want me to find love and a stable family once I’m in the White House. Don’t you think?”
“The voters do love families in the White House.”
“So, maybe by then, this will all have blown over?” He suggested. “And we can say we reconnected? Go on a few dinner dates. Really get to know each other. Go from there? In the meantime, text me. Call me. Whenever.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“And, really, thank you, Tim,” He said, his thumb running along my cheek. “You saved my entire political career.”
“I believe in you.” My hands felt so good laid against him.
Nathan smiled, and his hands slowly fell from my face as he turned to the door, forcing my hands to drop away from him.
“Ya’ know,” He looked at me over his shoulder, “there’s no guarantee I’ll win. Which would suck. Not just for me, but all Americans. Trump and everything. But if I don’t—I expect you to accept a dinner date sooner rather than later.”
“Winning isn’t everything.” I teased. “But I’ll accept a dinner date whenever the time is right. Regardless of the election.”
“Promise?”
“I’m gonna be busy with Tuniverse.” I shrugged. “I don’t really have time to date other guys, ya’ know?”
Nathan smiled.
“Talk to you soon?” He asked as he reached for the doorknob.
“Text me after your rally,” I said.
“Will do.” He left his hand on the doork
nob but turned to me. “How’s the tie, by the way?”
Navy suit, black tie. Nice.
“Nice color choice.” I nodded. “Maybe one day, I can teach you how to actually tie it?”
Nathan guffawed.
“Jerk.”
“Well, someone has to keep you humble, Mr. Future President.” I teased.
“Have fun at dinner with your friend.” He squinted at me.
“It’s with a girl.”
“Good.” He was grinning again.
“Go.” I nudged him. “Nash and Bronson are probably tired of waiting for you.”
“Okay,” He said, opening the door. “Talk soon?”
I nodded. He winked. And then he was gone, the agents following behind him. My first instinct was to scream out for Nathan to wait. I could go to the rally with him, spend more time with him while he was in town. But my mind told me that it wasn’t a good idea with everything that had happened. Besides, like Nathan said, once things settled down—whether he won or not—we’d find a way to pursue our attraction. Once it would seem more appropriate for both of us to be hanging around each other so much without it raising too many eyebrows.
So, I counted down from fifty, just to give Nathan and the Secret Service agents enough time to get out of the building and into the SUV that was surely waiting outside. Then I told Larry “goodbye” and grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone, and stepped out of my apartment. I locked up and headed down the hallway. Perhaps I couldn’t spend time with Nathan, but at least I could have dinner, drinks, and dancing. A small celebration to commemorate the moment I found out that there might be something great waiting in the future.