Shades of Shame (Semper Fi)

by Cooper, Laura

  Her first order of business was to establish herself, and there was no sense in pretending she wasn’t Patricia’s daughter. Everyone knew it, everyone resented it, and it would only make her seem immature to attempt to cover it up with niceties. Fortunately, the ‘office bitch’ position had already been filled by her mother. Leila was glad she didn’t have to be the lioness in this pride. Her plan this summer wasn’t to fight her way to the top, no… this summer she was hoping for a lot of under-cover work to advance her.

  So now, at 10:15 a.m. she made her first entry regarding Senator David McNarry. She took note of the time the elevator doors opened, the time he made his first appearance of the day, even the number of people that followed him like pigeons feeding off the crumbs he left behind. He seemed to suck all the air from the room as he breezed past her. All tedious and monotonous office tasks were forgotten as the man commanded everyone’s attention. Leila took careful note of everyone who followed him into his office, how long each one stayed, and the level of sourness on their faces as they emerged.

  “You writing a novel?” the dark haired girl asked, making no effort to hide her sarcasm.

  Without raising her head to acknowledge her, Leila responded coldly, “I take a lot of notes. Is that a problem for you?”

  Lindsay raised her eyebrows and smirked, but ignored the question entirely. Instead, the dark hair girl announced, “Ms. Johnson asked that all the interns gather in the conference room at 10:30. It’s the fourth…”

  “I know,” Leila said, purposely interrupting her, “fourth door on the right. Just past the copy room. Anything else, uh… Leslie is it?”

  “Lindsay,” she retorted authoritatively. “It’d be wise for you not to forget it.”

  Leila knew that wasn’t the mousy girl’s name, and she intentionally got it wrong, just like interrupting her. It was important to establish with Lindsay Smith that she was inconsequential, unimportant. Although Leila had doubts as to whether she was smart enough to pick up on it. Still, this exercise would continue until Lindsay dropped the attitude. It was petty, and most people wouldn’t understand it, but it was a tough lesson she learned directly from the master: her mother.

  Leila flipped her book open one last time before stashing it back in her leather bag. “Lindsay Smith sleeping with McNarry,” she wrote on the next empty page. The girl’s arrogant attitude didn’t match her small town appearance. Even typical office jealousy couldn’t explain her ‘better than thou’ tone. She was sleeping with someone in the office, there was no mistaking that. Judging by the temperance of threat in her voice it was the man himself. No matter, at least now Leila knew the competition and it wasn’t much to overcome. This summer internship was going to be a walk in the park, and when it was over she could write her own ticket to Washington.

  The day was pretty much what she expected; her mother took the obligatory time to introduce her to the entire office staff. She also assigned Leila to assist Wendy Adams, the Regional Director to the 2nd district of the Senator’s home state. Her duties were researching local issues of the district and assisting Mrs. Adams with perfunctory calls and correspondence in conjunction with the Congressional office of that district. She was pretty much a glorified babysitter for the local issues of civic leaders. It wasn’t what she’d had in mind, but she understood the progression required. There was a ladder to climb and all Leila needed was to guarantee that she was the first to the top. With this group that shouldn’t be difficult. First and foremost was to ensure the Senator was never blindsided by local issues. Staying one step ahead of the rest of the world was Leila’s specialty. In retrospect it’d been wise of her mother to assign her to this position.

  As an added plus, Leila instantly liked Wendy Adams. She wouldn’t underestimate the chunky, middle aged woman, but she appreciated her motherly tone and careful attention to detail. Leila’s own social skills left something to be desired; she certainly didn’t issue ‘warm fuzzies’ naturally. She looked forward to taking meticulous notes on Mrs. Adam’s techniques. Nothing in her rigid plan for the summer said that it couldn’t be a learning experience. On the contrary, she was always open to adding to her arsenal of success building attributes.

  Finally, Leila returned to her desk to check her email. There it was: her first email from Ms. Johnson, Chief of Staff, also known to her and her alone, as Mother. The message was short and to the point.

  Dinner at the McNarry’s, a car will pick us up at seven. Logan will be there, remember Logan? Dress appropriately.

  Irritation swarmed through her. Why did her mother always feel she needed to add ‘dress appropriately?’ Leila always dressed appropriately! Her choice of clothing was exquisite; today she’d chosen a simple black dress, pearls, stockings and low black heels. Ugh! What was her mother up to now? Logan will be there? For God’s sake did she seriously think so little of her own daughter that she would try to fix her up with that spoiled little society brat?

  She gritted her teeth and shut her computer down for the day. There was no need to let her mother’s email ruin her mood. Quite frankly, it was very much the same as most of her interactions with her mother...chilly.

  Dinner at the McNarry’s might just provide just the opportunity Leila was waiting for. Forget the little boy; Leila was going straight for the big dog. ‘Dress appropriately’ Tonight she would be dressed to kill! Silly mother… hadn’t anyone told her tricks are for kids? And this was her game!

  Grab a Cab

  David stared in the mirror and criticized himself. His body showed the affects of stress and the daily barrage of information and demands for his time. For the most part he seemed to have maintained a fairly good physique despite his infrequent exercise. Of course, without the proper guidance he would go for days without eating, which helped his weight. What were once rock hard abs were now covered in a layer of rapidly multiplying gray hair. Once Elise had teased him saying that each gray hair was an intern he’d fucked. He’d explained that couldn’t be the case because if it was he’d look like a Siamese cat! She hadn’t appreciated that humor, and her disdain for his attitude resulted in her taking Logan and spending last summer in Boston. It’d cost him two month’s salary on a boat re-fit, and a minor heart attack to get them back.

  But Elise wasn’t the caregiver in their relationship; she’d never seen that as her job. He’d met her after a near fatal encounter involving his plane and the Pacific Ocean many years ago. She was his nurse at the VA Hospital, and then Ronald had hired her for ‘at home care’ when he was released. He’d been amazed at how quickly she wiggled her slim little hips into his bed, his home, and his heart. She was such a progressive woman he mused, in so, so many ways.

  He smiled into the mirror at the thought of Elise; she was an outstanding mother to their son. She couldn’t microwave a bowl of soup, and once he’d even caught her in a store marveling over the complexities of a frying pan. But still, she was astoundingly perfect. A woman of such generous talents shouldn’t waste her time cooking he’d told her. They’d been wise enough to hire Gracie shortly after their marriage, thus saving them all from starvation. It’d been instant friendship between Elise and Gracie; they were as thick as thieves. But Gracie wasn’t fond of his sinful ways, she refused to step one toe inside the condo he kept near his Senate office. It was the ‘Den of Sin’ according to her, and as long as he continued to spend time there with those whores he could starve and wallow in his own filth. David chuckled; these women in his life were wearing him down. He looked even closer at his eyes in the mirror, the dark circles told him that time was running circles around him. His body was worn down, and his mind was not far behind. He wasn’t sure he even recognized himself anymore.

  Looking at the bed through the mirror he could still see the sleek fit body of the twenty year old brunette, her long flowing hair cascaded down over her shoulders and the thin sheet that barely covered her body. He couldn’t even remember her name, not that he really cared. The thoughts of Elise warmed him. H
e wished that it was her lying in his bed. The tawdry encounters with women held little emotional importance and were only to satisfy his sexual cravings, nothing more. It was her stunning beauty that he saw when he pushed himself inside their tight pussies. It was her that he imagined when he exploded into his condoms. They were simply vehicles. Yet like fast sports cars, he was addicted to them.

  He threw his towel on the end of the bed as he passed through the room to the closet. It was an effort to wake her without actually having to speak to her. He removed a white button down shirt still wrapped in the plastic bag from the cleaners and placed it on the back of the chair next to the bed. She moaned as she rolled over, not fully getting the message from David.

  “You gotta get out of here,” David said, dropping thirty dollars on the end of the bed. “Grab a cab,” he said as he walked past her towards the bathroom, slapping her on the ass.

  He finished dressing and walked out of the room and down the stairs. Patricia was already sitting in the kitchen with an open bottle of red wine in front of her when he entered. “She still here?” Patricia asked.

  “Yeah, but she’s leaving.”

  “Who is she?” Patricia looked more and more perturbed with each question.

  “Just an intern.”

  Patricia’s eyebrows lifted; her condescension was clearly evident as she took a long gulp of his expensive wine. “What the hell is wrong with you? Haven’t we had this conversation?”

  David placed his hand on her forearm and stared deeply into her eyes. “You know what I want,” he said, “I just want back in my wife’s bed.”

  “As long as you continue sleeping with the help…”

  David interrupted her, “Elise is thinking of leaving again, isn’t she? She’s threatening divorce again, right?”

  “I know I would. But then again, with Elise… who knows? If I were her I wouldn’t have come back to you the last time. What do you think, Captain Obvious? Or has that tramp fucked your brains out too? Patricia motioned over her shoulder towards the silent girl closing the front door behind her.

  David sat nervously, twisting the black watch on his wrist. The situation with the interns was beginning to concern him, although he was having problems identifying the exact emotion to attach to it. At times it felt like the whole weight of the world was crashing down around him, but David couldn’t even be sure if he cared anymore.

  He closed his eyes as his memory flashed back and forth between his time as a fighter pilot and his life as a senator. His fighter pilot training served him well, and probably the greatest skill he learned was disassociation: The ability to completely remove his human feelings and just look at the situation with an open and almost clinical mind. He vacillated back and forth between avenues of approach, desperately trying to assess potential outcomes. However, no possible outcome seemed viable, or even the least bit attractive. Resignation to a life without Elise and Logan seemed imminent if he couldn’t stop. “I love her, you know. It’s just that…”

  “Just what, asshole? Just can’t stop fucking the interns?”

  “She needs more than I can give. I hit fifty and started to feel like I need to fuck everything in sight. She hit fifty and decided to take up sailing and monogamy! I can’t get a damned break!”

  “Well your ship with Elise might have sailed my friend, and I’m not sure there’s anything you can do that’ll fix it this time. If she finds out you’re screwing around again, she’s going to take your hide. I doubt I could even convince her to stay. There’s one thing you can be sure of, Senator,” she added sarcastically, “it’s going to be painful, very, very painful.”

  “And who else knows about my uh… indiscretions? What about them?”

  “Handled. Just like always. But your problem isn’t the press, it’s Elise. If she finds out, she’ll ask for a divorce and make it all public. That, my friend, will end your career.”

  “What does she want from me?” David leaned back in the barstool at the counter in his ‘Den of Sin.’ He already knew the answer.

  “Prince Charming, Knight in Shining Armor… don’t think like a fucking idiot David! Elise isn’t a twenty year old twit. All she wants is you. After putting up with your ass all these years, I don’t know why she still wants you but she does. You have to stop fucking interns David, just stop it.”

  He studied his long time political handler, “And you have to stop smoking those fucking cigarettes Patricia, just stop it.”

  “Fuck you David,” she pushed the remainder of her cigarette into the ashtray on the counter, “come on, dinner at your house in an hour.”

  Dinner at the McNarry’s

  Leila sat at the counter of her mother’s Georgetown condo waiting patiently as she went over her notes from her first day. She was pleasantly surprised that the only personal interactions she had with her mother were via email. That suited her just fine; there had never been much of a meaningful relationship there anyway. She looked up and eyed the empty townhouse, who she did miss here was Nanny Jo Harry. Nanny Jo had raised her, tended to her skinned knees, and tucked her in at night. Even after all these years, the townhouse just seemed empty without the robust woman. She prickled at the memory of how quickly and inconsequentially Nanny Jo had been dismissed when Leila left for prep school. Her mother had never valued one single relationship in her life, except for the magnificent McNarry’s of course. Leila sighed and resumed studying her notes. Regardless of how she felt, if she were going to pursue a career in politics, dealing with her mother was critical.

  Studying people via her notes, she began to see them for who they were. Seeing the patterns emerge told her just about everything she needed to know about the office. Who loved their job, who the best contributors were, who were the weak links. There was a myriad of information available if one were just patient and observant enough to look for them. Of course, this was just one day’s worth of notes, and it would take many more days before consistent reliable patterns began to emerge. She felt confident that everyone would be in their rightful imaginary queue in her mind before the week was over. Already Lindsay Smith was in the ‘Fucking David’ column, so that was a start.

  She began to wonder where her mother was. It was almost seven and it was unlike Patricia to be tardy. A knock on the door rattled her back to reality. She stuffed her leather book of secrets into her purse and opened the door to find a tall black man in a tailored black suit standing at the door. “Yes?”

  “Miss Johnson? I’m Ronald. Your mother is waiting in the car.”

  Well that answered that question; Leila thought as she locked the front door behind her and climbed down the steps towards the waiting black town car.

  He walked closely behind her, close enough to grab the door to the town car before she could reach for the handle. “Thank you, Ronald,” Leila said, sliding into the back seat.

  “Very nice,” the woman said from behind the crystal glass that touched her lips.

  “I take it you approve?” Leila was no stranger to congeniality, but placed little value on her mother’s approval. She had chosen a pair of simple black slacks, a black v-neck tee shirt, and Vittadelli black sandals. After much scrutiny in the mirror, she’d gone a little heavier with the jewelry and make up tonight in an effort to appear her age. Far gone were the days when she’d felt like she had to dress like someone she wasn’t. Simplicity and elegance were always in fashion.

  “The McNarry’s insisted on welcoming you home this summer. Isn’t that wonderful? I thought it might be nice to get reacquainted with everyone.”

  “Everyone?” Leila didn’t like the edge her mother put on the word.

  “Yes. The Senator, Elise of course, and Logan. Remember Logan?”

  Leila did remember him. Skinny boy, curly blondish brown hair, and huge silver braces on his teeth. Leila had even been his babysitter on occasion. “What is he now, sixteen?”

  “Nineteen. Not exactly the little kid you remember Leila, trust me. The kid is showing great p
romise. I thought you might get to know him a little better, dear.”

  “Playing matchmaker, are we? Mom you know I don’t have time for…”

  “Winners make time,” she said, cutting her daughter off mid-sentence.

  Damn she’s good at that, Leila thought with irony.

  “It certainly wouldn’t hurt you to associate with people your own age. You’ve always been such a goody two shoes,” Patricia mumbled through her scotch.

  Leila closed her eyes to conceal the laughter rolling in her throat. Her mother was the one single person on the planet who would ever think to call her that! Goody two shoes wasn’t a title anyone who actually knew her would give her! On the contrary, most girls her age used words like slut, whore, and bitch. Men her age usually just texted their phone numbers or bought her drinks. Leila had never had time to give a damn about any of them; no one her age had anything worthwhile to offer. On the other hand, her teachers and professors had always ranted and raved about her to anyone who would listen… this girl is going to go far, they would repeat.

  She opened her eyes to see her mother reaching for the intercom button on the console in front of her. “Ronald, please drive around the block a couple of times.” Leila checked her Rolex; they were early, and guests should never be early. It seemed a little ridiculous to still maintain such formalities with the McNarry’s, and Leila knew it was just a charade for her benefit. Yet, it made perfect sense to her somehow. You could easily qualify a person by their manners. In Leila’s mind, every person she met must be put into some kind of queue. All were important, some even crucial to her life, categorizing them determined how she dealt with them. Her mother was in the queue labeled ‘dangerous as hell, proceed with caution.’