Madame President

by Tara Sue Me

  Then Anna announced her intention to run for president, and I found myself in a quandary. Did I tell everyone I knew Anna then? That would’ve been optimal compared to someone finding out on their own and the GBNC execs hearing it from them and not me. Yet, I reasoned with myself, I’m the last person Anna Fitzpatrick would think of and there was no need for me to bring it up and make it bigger than it was. So I decided to stay as far away as possible from her.

  But, she won. I don’t know how much longer I can just happen to be somewhere else when she’s being interviewed or acting distracted when her name comes up.

  Which is why I’m in my office, trying my best to keep away from everyone by telling them I’m doing emergency research for a segment the network has asked me to do. It’s not a total lie. They did give me a segment and I do have to research it, just not quite as quickly as I may have said. But it gives me something to at least pretend to do instead of obsessing over the fact that the President Elect is in New York today, like everyone around me is doing. It’s a bit unreal seeing all these seasoned professionals mooning all over her like she’s royalty or something. I understand she’s the closest thing we have, but it makes my avoidance tactics harder.

  Gabe walks to my office door right as the front desk buzzes my phone. He stands just outside as I answer on speaker.

  “Yes?” I ask, waving Gabe to come in.

  “There’s someone here to see you, Navin,” Gerald, the security guard, says.

  I glance at my calendar to make sure I’m not forgetting an appointment. I’m not. “I don’t have a meeting scheduled,” I tell Gerald. “Who is it?”

  “It’s… uh… the President Elect,” Gerald stutters.

  I do my best not to let surprise show in my voice. “Of course. President Elect Fitzpatrick is welcome whenever.”

  Gabe’s looking at me in shock, a sentiment I feel acutely. I find I’m not able to say anything, but it doesn’t matter because Gabe has plenty of words. Unfortunately, they’re all in the form of questions I have no answers for.

  “What the hell?” he asks when I hang up. “She wants to meet with you? Why?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply, thankful it’s the absolute truth and I’m not having to lie. I still can’t look at him in the eye. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “You don’t even know her. I’m the one who always interviews her,” Gabe says and I wince at the reminder that I’ve been lying to one of my best friends. And it’s true, I ensure I’m always unavailable whenever she’s to be interviewed.

  I hear her approach more in the silence descending upon those she passes than I do from any noise her group makes. Though there are only four agents with her today, two in front and two behind, their appearance holds everyone spellbound. Conversations stop mid-sentence. No one moves.

  As they continue toward us, Gabe and I step into the hallway without a word, allowing her security team to search my office before she enters. I take a deep breath and prepare myself to come face-to-face with a memory from my past, one I’ve avoided as much as possible. I see now it was inevitable and childish for me to behave this way.

  She’s walking toward me, talking to someone at her side, and then she looks at me and I have to remind myself to breathe. I’ve seen numerous pictures and videos of her, but they in no way compare to flesh and blood Anna. She was memorable in her early twenties. She is stunning standing before me now, a woman in her thirties.

  She’s tall, five feet ten, if I recall correctly. Her jet black hair is cut to where it falls in soft waves around her shoulders. Pair that with her frame, curvy in all the right places, and there’s not a part of her that doesn’t scream ‘woman.’ But her most striking features are her eyes. A piercing dark blue, made more so by her pale skin.

  I’m not sure who she has styling her, but whoever it is needs a raise. In all the media I’ve seen of her, print or television, she is always meticulously dressed, with perfect makeup and never a hair out of place. A far cry from the young woman I remember who favored hoodies and jeans.

  Today, she’s wearing a sharp looking, but definitely feminine, black pant suit with a white silk blouse, and black heels that make her legs appear endless. There have been many who have seen her as weak because of her looks. It’s a misconception they’re only allowed to harbor briefly.

  Though Anna Fitzpatrick was born and raised in Pennsylvania, her mother hails from Georgia, and when Anna speaks, you can hear a hint of her Southern heritage. This, too, has caused more than a few to underestimate her. Anna may appear soft and malleable, but she is not. She is sharp and shrewd, brilliant and benevolent. But never forget that she is dangerous and can cut you into shreds while being so charming, you won’t know you’re bleeding until she’s gone.

  One thing I noticed in the early days of her campaign that still holds true today is, there is no middle ground when it comes to Anna. People either love her or they can’t stand her. Both groups became very vocal in the months leading up to the election. One side argued there was no way a woman, especially one as young as Anna, could command the US Military or lead the country. The other side countered that two hundred years of older male Presidents hadn’t been Utopia, either.

  For her running mate, Anna chose a Senator from Oregon, another Independent. Henry Westfield is old enough to be her father, but he is also highly respected by both Republicans and Democrats for his bipartisan ways and his ability to bring people together. From what I can tell based on the handful of times I’ve interviewed him, he has no interest in running for President, but jumped at the chance to be on Anna’s ticket.

  “Is there something wrong, Mr. Hazar?” she asks, and I realize I have been staring for longer than what is appropriate. That her security detail has already swept my office and are back outside.

  “No. Sorry,” I say, shaking her hand and ushering her into my office, feeling like a moron for not doing so before now. “It’s a pleasure President Elect Fitzpatrick. This is a pleasant surprise.”

  She smiles. “Yes, it does come to mind that I’ve been here and in your studios a good number of times, and yet, you have never been present.”

  “I’m a busy man,” I say, but those blue eyes see right through me. They always did, which was strange and wonderful twelve years ago. Knowing she still has that ability now is a bit disconcerting.

  “Then I chose well by coming to the city today,” she says, while still wearing the shadow of a smile. Does she know I went out of my way to avoid her? I hope to hell not.

  Yet, I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I say nothing. The insinuation is she came to New York today to see me, but it’s not an assumption I want to verbalize. Instead, I wait for her to make a move.

  I don’t have to wait long.

  “Gabe,” she says to the man standing in my office and watching our back and forth much too intensely. “Will you kindly allow me to speak to Mr. Hazar privately?” He looks briefly abashed, moving to step into the hallway and close the door to my office. She focuses on me. “Navin, it’s been a long time."

  Over the past twelve months I’ve watched hundreds of Anna’s news clips. There’s something different I sense standing before her today, something I haven’t seen in her in years, though I can’t say with certainty what it is. I almost want to say it’s a vulnerability, but that can’t be it, because that makes her seem weak, and she’s not weak. Not at all.

  I realize that even in my assessment, I have vastly underestimated the force that is Anna Fitzpatrick. There’s more than knowledge between us, but at the moment, I can’t assign a name to it.

  Chapter Four

  Her

  GBNC Office

  New York City, New York

  The mask is firmly in place as I stand in Navin’s office. It’s strangely unnerving being in his presence again. Years ago, it seemed as if we could communicate without words at times. The way he’s looking at me now suggest the connection is still there, and he senses my unease.


  I try to tell myself I’m only feeling this way because he knew me before. Before I was President Elect, a presidential candidate, or even a congresswoman. He knew me when I was a nobody in law school. It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s him. Nothing at all. Deep inside, I don’t believe that at all, but it’s enough for now. Enough to get me through the reason I came here.

  A flicker of something familiar flits across his face and I suck my breath in, hating myself at once because I know he didn’t miss the sound.

  “Too long,” he finally says, responding to my earlier statement.

  In the years that have passed since we last saw each other, I often wondered if I ever crossed his mind. That I did is obvious in his two word reply. I don’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would, however. Instead the knowledge only creates new questions.

  “Please excuse my complete lack of manners,” he says, holding his hand out to one of the plush leather chairs off to the side of his desk. I take a seat in one, keeping my knees pressed together, legs off to one side. He joins me seconds later in the other chair, still talking. “I confess your appearance today has caught me by surprise.”

  I think about apologizing, but don’t since leaving him discombobulated is one of my goals for this meeting. “I’m afraid my first question will do little to ease that particular feeling.”

  His smile is tight. “I had a feeling that would be the case.”

  “Have you told anyone that we…” I start, wondering how he’s going to finish the question.

  “That we knew each other when we were in the same class at Harvard Law?” he asks.

  I both love and hate his answer, and only nod in reply.

  “No,” he says. “I’ve never thought my personal life was anyone’s business. Then when you announced you were running for president, and I thought about it again, I couldn’t think of a way to bring it up that didn’t sound like I was a sleazy tabloid reporter. Have you told anyone?”

  “No,” I whisper, my cheeks heating at the thought of discussing that period of time in my life with anyone.

  Navin and I attended Harvard Law together, before he left midway through our second year. Our class felt different after that, empty and dull. He had been such a dynamic force, but I didn’t realize how much so until he wasn’t there anymore.

  I remember my reaction the first time I saw him behind the news desk at GBNC. It had been years after he vanished and I probably could have sought him out or tried to see what happened. But I was too embarrassed and figured if he didn’t tell me or reach out, there was a reason. So I purposefully never let myself think of him again until that day—his chiseled features and strong jawline, matched with dark hair and eyes. The camera loved him. But oddly enough, it was his mind I recalled. He’d been brilliant in law school, often talking about his plans to become a judge. His passion for law and justice palpable in every word. Yet, after seeing him on TV, and knowing where I could find him, I still ignored his existence.

  Until now.

  Sitting in his office today, I wonder what happened, how it was he ended up here, when his passion had been elsewhere? I’d never heard why he dropped out of school, but I’ve always been curious. Curious about a lot of things.

  It is not, however, anything I would dare bring up. It would be rude and I have no reason to ask. On the other hand, Navin has to question why I’m here, but has enough manners not to ask. I do it for him. “I’m sure you’re curious as to why I’m here.”

  “The thought did cross my mind a time or two.”

  I take a deep breath. I’m going to kill Jaya and David for insisting I have a date for the balls. When Jaya brought up having someone from the media escort me, David thought it was a brilliant idea, adding how well it’d go over with the American public. Jaya suggested Gabe Day, since he was the anchor GBNC typically sent to interview me. I don’t think either one of them expected me to say that I’d prefer Navin Hazar. They didn’t question my choice, more than likely because they were in shock I’d named someone I’d allow to escort me, and I didn’t tell them about my past with Navin.

  They did, however, say a visit would make it personal, and I could make a stop by his office before a scheduled meeting in the city.

  "It’s a personal matter,” I tell him.

  “I see,” he says, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.

  “I’d like you to be my escort at the Inaugural Balls,” I blurt out. “Not that I need an escort, but you know the optics. I thought of you because you work in the media, and we’re the same age and both single. Um,” I realize in that moment that I don’t know if he’s single. Surely, Jaya and David wouldn’t have allowed me to get this far if he wasn’t. “I mean if you are single. I thought it would make a nice statement of goodwill. You know, the President and a leading member of the press. Plus, our history...”

  He’ll say yes, of course. You don’t turn down the President. Not over something like this. I’m so certain he’ll say yes, I almost miss his reply.

  “I’m afraid I must regrettably decline.”

  Regrettably decline? He was turning me down?

  “What?” I ask, because I must have heard incorrectly. He wouldn’t turn me down. He couldn’t. Not after —

  “No.”

  He speaks the one word with enough force to leave no doubt of his answer. It echoes in my head.

  His face is expressionless. “Thank you for thinking of me and for the offer, but you’ll have to find someone else to be your arm candy that night, President Elect Fitzpatrick.”

  I’m shocked he turned me down, but not so much that it interferes with my self-preservation instincts telling me to get the hell out of his office.

  I stand and he does as well. “I’m sorry to hear that, I thought perhaps since we…” God, I can’t say it and look at him at the same time. I quickly redirect my words. “I apologize for any disruption I may have caused. Thank you for your time.”

  When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Gabe is standing there, waiting quietly next to my security detail. I step into the hallway, vaguely aware of Navin following.

  “Finished?” Gabe asks. “That was quick.”

  There are two hundred ways to respond to his ‘quick’ observation, most of which would cut Navin down so fast the late night shows would joke about him for a week. But I swallow them all back. I’ve worked for years to build my image and my reputation. As a result, I protect it at all costs. It’s one of things that worked heavily in my favor during the election, in my opinion. I am always extremely careful about what I say and who I say it to, as well as who is listening and who may one day be able to listen.

  No one has a microphone in my hand and there are no visible cameras, but I’m not stupid. Even standing in the nearly empty hallway, I’m aware that, more than likely, I have half a dozen cell phones pointed at me, recording my every word. I’m in the GBNC building, but I will not be a hot sound bite for them today.

  I nod to Gabe and walk away without saying a word.

  Chapter Five

  Him

  GBNC Office

  New York, New York

  Blessedly, Gabe doesn’t say anything until Anna is safely in the elevator, and she and her entourage are heading back downstairs. As soon as the slick doors close behind her, I let out a deep breath and step back into my office. Gabe follows me, so I take a seat in the same chair I’d been in moments prior. He takes the other one.

  “Based on the way President Elect Fitzpatrick shot out of here, your meeting must not have gone very well,” Gabe says.

  Gabe is one of my best friends, and had it been anyone other than Anna I’d turned down, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell him all about the last few minutes. But it was Anna, or more to the point, President Elect Fitzpatrick, and Gabe isn’t just anyone, he is a high-profile journalist who works for the largest news network in the country. Jane Doe asking me out on a date isn’t newsworthy. Anna Fitzpatrick, soon to be POTUS, on the other hand, he may thin
k is.

  For the first time, I wish I had told someone about knowing Anna. When she asked me to escort her, all I could think about was my resolve to keep my distance from her, and I blurted out my answer too quickly. It was a knee jerk reaction. What I need is a friend to talk with and I don’t have one because I’ve never spoken about Anna to anyone.

  “It really wasn’t much of anything,” I tell Gabe.

  Because we are good friends, Gabe knows when I’m feeding him a line of bullshit. Like now. But likewise, he’s not going to push me for an answer.

  “And it was personal,” I add.

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize my mistake. Gabe sees the opening and latches onto it.

  “Personal, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “How can it be personal if you’ve never spoken to her?”

  He’s right and there’s no good way to reply back. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. The best thing I can do at this point is to take the conversation in a different direction.

  “Talking about personal,” I say. “Why are you Gabe and I’m Mr. Hazar?”

  He looks slightly taken aback by my question. Then he blinks and replies, “I told her to call me Gabe when I interviewed her for the second time.”

  Of course he did. That’s the kind of person he is. Me, on the other hand, it’d never in two million years occur to me to tell someone to just call me by my first name. Especially if that person was running for president.

  “And she did it?” I ask. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he replies with a smile.

  Chapter Six