by Mia Villano
On the way to the airport, I check in with my mother to find out about Garrison. They find my brother in a dilapidated building located in town. Of all places, he’s in an abandoned school my mother has fought to have demolished. Like I thought, he’s brought back to our mother’s house. My mother’s personal doctor was waiting and ready for Garrison’s arrival where he hooks him up to an IV, and signs an agreement whatever she did medically to my brother wasn’t to be disclosed.
After the night I had with Daria, I don’t want to hear about it. I feel on top of the world and refuse to let anything bring me down.
I’m heading to Las Vegas for my first debate with Tex, and my head is a muddled mess. Dealing with my brother’s shenanigans, the campaign, and now Daria, our lost baby, and our new-found love, I need some time alone to sort everything out. That’s not going to happen. I have a job to do and I need to win this fucking thing. Remembering making love to Daria the night before ignites me. I’m ready to take on whatever Tex wants to throw at me.
Once we land, we drive over to the college where the debate will be. The protesters against Tex are already outside chanting when we pull up.
Vick and I are barely on speaking terms because I’m still pissed at what he said to Daria, and he’s mad at me for going out without security. My stylist comes along as does Curtis and the rest of the campaign staff, to set up tables for selling t-shirts and passing out flyers, signs, and stickers.
I have a hard time getting around without being bombarded by cameras and questions. I stop to answer a couple of questions and sign a few campaign signs before heading inside to walk the auditorium and get a feel for the place. Curtis hurls a few questions at me while I stand on stage behind the podium. Feeling prepared and ready to get this debate under my belt, I head to my hotel for some down time.
I’m meeting my mother and my VP, Lance and his family fly in for a late lunch. I’m thrilled to have their support, but I just wish a certain person could be here with me. I need Frank to get her number so I can call her. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask for it before? Hearing her voice will settle my nerves and give me the fortitude to win this thing. That doesn’t happen though when I’m called in for a press briefing that takes over the rest of the afternoon.
When the debate starts, I shake Tex’s hand. For the first time, Tex and I stand looking at each other, ready to throw insults face to face instead of in front of a camera. He starts to berate me after the first question and it’s a clash between the two Parties’ beliefs. At first, he paints me as unmanly, a ‘metrosexual,’ he calls me in his southern twang, and I honestly don’t think he even knows what that is. I need to show him I have a set of balls, firing back as hard as possible.
“You’re a billionaire oil tycoon with no experience running a government. How do you think you can do a better job than I can?” I have the movements down pat as I point my finger at him staring him right in the eye. Though I’m not on the top of my game, I still crush him with every comeback he tries to pull out of his southern ass. He attempts to bring up the fact that I’m only forty, a bachelor, and born into the family name linked to womanizing. That’s all he has though and his comments and accusations aren’t enough to ruffle my feathers. Like a boxer in a fight, I hit him where it counts, rattle his chain, and come after him with a punch to the face knocking him out in the final round. He can’t answer how his name is linked to a Saudi Arabian oil company and he pretends to not know what I’m talking about. He’s a blubbering idiot and by the time I get done with him he’s looking like a hillbilly with money and not a clue about how to run the country. It’s clearly my win on my mastery of each of the issues. Tex is a smart ass and the only thing he did was insult my family, my Party, and me. He, of course, insists he won and blames the media for saying he lost. I’m declared the winner and the news outlets agree. Vick thinks otherwise.
“You witnessed a desperate opponent out there tonight, but Sebastian, your head was not in the game. Where were you tonight? The people are with you. You’re still leading, but you can’t fall apart now.” We’re on a plane, heading back to D.C. I’m exhausted and feel like I have been in a boxing ring. I need sleep and something to eat. There’s too much going on in the plane, and I just want to be by myself to think. Vick’s not going to let that happen, though.
“I’m not letting anyone win anything. This was an off day; I still beat him, even after what I went through with my damn brother last night.”
“You have to be in this all the way. You can’t have off days, not now. Having a bad day isn’t acceptable. Sure, you beat his ass, but they have professionals who will study your every move and tear you apart next time. Tex is a master at finding someone’s weakness and using it against them.”
“I know this.” He’s pissing me off, but he tends to do that every day. We’re two opposites and sometimes he needs to give me a swift kick in the ass to get me to listen to him.
“All the major networks said I won this thing. What is your problem tonight?”
“I’m making the next fucking president! I have put my family, my business, and my life on hold to make you the most powerful man in the world. I don’t need you to lose your shit now,” he yells at me. He knows better than to yell at me in public. My entire campaign staff’s around, celebrating my victory, and everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him.
“You need to settle down, Vick. I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.” I let his anger subside and I allow the comment to be forgotten. He sees something I don’t and I guess I need to realize maybe my previous night was evident in my actions on stage. Watching footage of the debate, I came across nervous, rushed, and angry. Though I won, Vick is right. Tex and his team will study what I said, my actions, and emotions, and use that to their advantage for the next round.
It will be an all-out fight now to win as many voters as I can before the election in November. I’m confident I can win, but I can’t let the thoughts of a woman mar my mind. It’s hard to do now that I’ve had a taste of her again. I have a craving for her that is so strong it can’t be dulled.
The next week, we fly to Cleveland for the second of three debates against my opponent. Security’s extremely tight and since they haven’t found the person who wants to kill me, Frank brings along extra men, even though the Secret Service is there as well. Cameras are everywhere, journalists with microphones are shoved in my face trying to get questions answered. I’m polite, informative, and happy to speak to them.
Heading to my hotel room, I decide to be the bigger person and call to check on my brother. Sliding my finger across the screen of my burner phone, I call my mom to ask her how things are going. Shockingly, Garrison answers. I’m pissed as soon as I hear his voice and think about hanging up. Why is he answering Mother’s phone? How the hell is he able to function so quickly after overdosing on heroin? Usually when he’s picked up at one of these places, he’s out of sorts for a few weeks.
“Hello.” His voice sounds weak. I cringe having to talk to him.
“Garrison, it’s Sebastian. Why are you answering Mom’s phone?”
There’s a hesitation and I think I lost the call.
“Garrison?”
“Because it rang and she’s outside with her plants.” Oh, Christ. Now I’m forced to talk to him. I swallow.
“How are you feeling?”
“What do you want to hear, Sebastian? Life is perfect. I love staying here like a prisoner while you run around and become the president. My life sucks right now.”
“It’s not just because I’m running for president, and you know it. In addition, if I had my way, your sorry ass would be in a rehab in some unknown town, a thousand miles away. You’re being a selfish asshole as usual.”
“I just want to go home and paint. I have an art show in a couple of weeks.” I’m sure.
“So you can wind up in a whorehouse, strung out on heroin again. Mom do
esn’t need this right now. Can you at least think about her for once and not your pathetic self? But while I have you on the phone, I don’t want you bothering Daria anymore.” He laughs loudly in my ear.
“Afraid she wants me?”
“You’re the last guy she wants. No, you threatened to hurt her last time you were at her condo. I don’t want to hear you are ever near her again, or I will make your life a miserable, fucked up mess.”
“How do you know I supposedly threatened her?” I hear the different tone in his voice when I challenge him. Garrison never likes to be challenged.
“Don’t mess with me, Garrison. She called me from your phone when you up and disappeared, leaving your wallet and phone on her steps. What the hell were you doing there anyway? You’re pathetic.”
“I wish I was half as perfect as you think you are.”
“I’m not perfect in any way, but I would never, and have never, resorted to threatening to hurt a woman. You better hope I don’t hear you do something like that again.”
“Or what, tough guy? Maybe the country needs to know all about you and your lust for your intern? You have everyone believing you’re a saint.”
“Don’t threaten me, Garrison. Don’t run away like a weak piece of shit or go to Daria’s house, and I wouldn’t have to hear about you. You’re not a fraternity fuck anymore; it’s time you grow the fuck up.”
“Kiss my ass.” He ends the call and I’m happy to have him off the phone. He’s in rare form and having a temper tantrum because he’s locked in my mother’s house. Too bad. What does he expect when he acts like this?
The second debate is just hours away and I’m not nervous this time. I know I’m going to annihilate Tex and I refuse to let anything stand in my way. Tex’s on the news proclaiming he’ll use every tactic he can to win the debate like he did the last one. He’s either delusional or stupid, but either way, something’s off with him this time. He portrays a man covering up something by degrading me, bringing up the fact my father lost the presidency because of scandal. He asks the audience if the American people need that again. He mentions the fact my brother has been in and out of rehab, and that my mother’s funding my campaign. What pisses me off the most is when Tex decides to bring up the fact I’m not married. He hints on live national television I may be a closeted homosexual, going against the will of God. With that comment, he seals his fate with me. I’m determined, more than ever to tear him apart and not look back.
We square off in a contentious debate, with me hammering Tex for his tax proposals, immigration laws, and his racist behavior at a campaign rally he held in the South. Tex shoots back a couple of times saying I’m a weak leader, too liberal, and a spoiled brat. I smile at him, looking him straight in the eye and fire back. I force him on the defense several times, a pivotal move in a tight election campaign. Old Tex makes some good points on our economy and healthcare, however he’s angry and short fused as I control the entire night.
Funny thing is the fact checkers prove he’s lying and within minutes of the end of the debate, the journalists attack. In the spin room afterwards, as I elegantly say he did a good job and don’t boast, it’s obvious I won. Tex states he believes he beat me and can’t wait for the next one. With just forty-seven days left till Election Day, this debate pumps me up and turns my somber mood into a happier one afterwards. That is, until I head back to my hotel room, and I’m left alone.
Stepping out of the steamy shower, I’m thrilled the fourteen-hour day is over and the second debate is past me. I don’t mind working hard. I thrive on pushing myself to the limit. I just crave some time alone to unwind and not be asked a question on my thoughts about Russia, how I feel about NAFTA, and what are my feelings about gun control?
My body aches as my thoughts go to Daria. Longing to be with her grabs at my gut as the image of her lying in the bed naked race through my mind. I close my eyes to try to push her image out, but it doesn’t work. Remembering her lying on her bed entangled in her sheets with her red hair splayed out around her seems like a lifetime ago.
Now, I lie in my empty cold bed, alone, looking at the ceiling or a picture of her. I want to talk to her more. I need to hear her voice and know how she is. I call and wake Frank out of a deep sleep at three in the morning after I toss and turn.
“Hello?” I inwardly laugh at waking him up. He will be pissed in the morning. He doesn’t respond, which tells me he’s ticked as hell.
“I need a favor.”
“Jesus Christ. It’s what, two in the fucking morning?”
“It’s actually, 3:16, and shouldn’t you be up anyway, guarding me. Why are you still sleeping?” I hear him rustling in the bed. No need to worry about him being with a woman when I run this poor guy ragged.
“Sebastian, what can I do for you? If you need a woman out of your room, I think one of the other guys can take care of it.”
I ignore that statement.
“I need a phone number, and I need it now.”
“Can’t Vick get the number for you?” he yawns.
“No, he won’t. I need you to get the number. If I wanted Vick to do it, I’d be talking to him.”
“Easy enough. Who?”
“I don’t want you asking one of your cronies to get it. I want you to get it. This can’t go public.”
“Okay, okay. Who is it?”
“Daria Stewart.” There’s silence.
“You’re asking for trouble. Isn’t this the same chick where we tracked you down at her place a few weeks ago? Vick told all of us to keep her away from you.”
“I love trouble, and yes, it’s the same chick. By the way, I’m your boss, not Vick.”
“Pussy can’t be that important you’re willing to risk the presidency for it. Hell, I can get you the best pussy around lined in gold with glitter spraying out and no one will know. Name your type.”
“You’re sounding like Curtis and you’re disgusting. I don’t need help getting a woman in my bed; I just need you to get her phone number.” Sitting up in bed, I run my hands through my hair nervously. He tells me to give him five minutes and ends the call. Standing up and nervously pacing my hotel room, I make a cup of coffee and by the time I sit down to drink it, he’s calling back with her cell phone number. I’m going to call her now; I don’t care if she’s asleep. I have to hear her voice before going out and giving a speech to union workers in a few hours.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I enter the number without hesitation, and hold my breath as it rings. My heart races when Daria's sleep-drenched voice answers. I wipe sweat from my brow. Why in the hell is this woman spiraling me out of control like this?
A sleepy voice answers. “Hello?” I hesitate and close my eyes.
“Daria?”
“Sebastian?” she purrs.
“Yes, it’s Sebastian. I’m sure you’re in bed.”
“Well, yes, I’m sleeping. It’s three am, but I’m thrilled you called.”
“I wanted to hear your voice.” Back in the past, I would call her when I was out of town or working long nights on the Hill. The sound of her voice always soothed me.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, no nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Have you heard what’s going on with Garrison? Is he still at your mother's?”
“This call is not about Garrison.” She’s sleepy and confused. I want her to know I couldn’t care less about Garrison, and this phone call has nothing to do with him.
“I was watching your debate tonight. You gave it good to old Tex. He looked like an idiot up there, trying to answer your questions. I love that he backpedaled on immigration. His whole campaign was based on immigration and how he planned on a registration for illegal immigrants.” I love when she talks politics and I can’t help but laugh. She watched the debate which meant she was watching because of me.
“He was easy. I loved knocking the wind out of his arrogant redneck sails.” She laughs again.
“Sure.” I love she cares enough to want to give me advice.
“Next time, watch running your hand in your hair. It’s hot for the ladies, but it makes you look nervous.” I laugh again.
“You need a job on my campaign team. I was a little out of sorts tonight. Not quite on my game.”
“You couldn’t tell, other than that. You were amazing. I’m sure you’re exhausted. It has to be an endless battle every day.”
“No, I’m not exhausted. I’m pumped up and can’t sleep. I’ve been thinking about you. It has to do with something you said the night we were together.” She’s silent for a moment.
“Yes, I remember.”
“I love you so much.” She grows quiet again and I stand, pacing the hotel.
“I love you too, more than you will ever know.”
“I want to see you soon.” I need to have her, the wait is excruciating.
“Just tell me where and when?”
“I’ll call you as soon as I get back in town.”
23
Daria
Well, I did it, didn’t I. I slept with him. I promised myself it wouldn’t happen and yet I couldn’t stop it. Was it worth it? Hell yes, and the soreness between my legs reminds me how good it was. The next day, I fell back asleep after Sebastian left and woke up late with no time to make coffee or wash my hair. A smile spreads across my face as I think about the night before. I am so happy right now, so alive, and so me again.
Dressing fast in my scrubs and trying to head out the door, I spot Sebastian’s tie draped on my chair. I can’t stop myself from picking it up and smelling it. His cologne has lingered and once again, I catch myself smiling. Wondering where he is and what he’s doing, I can’t help but stop for a brief second to realize my life is starting to come together again. In a few weeks, he’s going to be the president of the United States, and I just might be by his side when all is said and done. He knew what he wanted, went after it, and now he’s going to achieve it. He also wants me and if that’s truly the case, my life as I know it is about to change drastically.