Madame President

by Tara Sue Me

  Apparently, yes, it is because they don’t even bother to be discrete when they whisper behind my back.

  “I’m not sure what’s gotten into him. Maybe he was told he’ll be rotating off the Press Pool. I can’t imagine him liking this sort of thing, anyway.”

  “I think he finally got laid. A friend of mine swore he was at the same bar as she was last Thursday night and this gorgeous blonde was all over him.”

  Thankfully, I don’t hear Anna’s name mentioned in any scenario involving me.

  It’s a rare, relatively quiet day. Anna is in meetings for most of the day, so I don’t expect to see her much. I think about sending her a text, but in the end I don’t. I don’t want to be pushy. I need to take it slow and let her lead and dictate the details of us for the time being. Besides, there’s no reason I can come up with to send her a text that doesn’t sound like I’m just looking for a way to contact her. I tell myself to wait.

  I actually end up getting that chance sooner than expected. Not long after lunch, I’m working on my speech for the benefit. It’s only a few weeks away and the issue being important to me, I really want to knock this speech out of the park.

  My desk phone rings, which is odd enough since it’s an internal line and only someone in the White House can dial it. Before today, it’s only rang one other time and that was the time Nicole called to tell me Anna wanted to meet for breakfast.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Mr. Hazar,” a man replies. “This is Director Thomas Standard.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me what he’s the director of. I know him by his name. He’s the Director of the Secret Service. What I want to know is what the hell is he calling me for?

  “Director Standard,” I say. “How can I help you?”

  Because the press offices are on top of each other and we can hear whenever anyone talks, everything around me comes to a grinding halt the minute I say his name.

  He doesn’t waste any time getting right to the point. “I’m in the Oval Office and we have a highly sensitive situation. I need you here immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.” I stand up. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Don’t tell your press pals anything,” he says and disconnects.

  Of course when I step out of my office, no one is even pretending to work. I know they’re dying to know what’s going on, but I’m not about to piss off one of the nation’s top law enforcement officers. “Sorry,” I tell everyone. “Confidential.”

  As I walk out of the press area, I overhear one last whisper.

  “He doesn’t look that happy anymore.”

  I cover the distance to the Oval Office in record time. Not only because the director told me to, but because I know it has to have something to do with me and Anna. What exactly, I’m not sure.

  The agent standing outside the office sees me approach and opens the door to alert those inside of my arrival, I suppose. He doesn’t close it after, but opens it wider, allowing me to enter. I barely register the sound of it shutting behind me. I’m too caught up in what’s happening inside.

  My eyes immediately seek out Anna. She’s in yellow today, a color I’ve never seen her wear before. I would say she looks beautiful, but the anger in her expression is a little off putting. On one side of her, David stands. The man I assume to be Director Standard is on her other. Nicole is notably absent.

  “Madame President,” I say. “Mr. Herdsman. Director Standard.”

  “Come here,” the director says, bypassing any formal greeting exchange, and I approach the desk with a growing sense of dread. “These were in an envelope slid under Mr. Herdsman’s office door during lunch.”

  The Director shifts his attention back to whatever’s on Anna’s desk. David is shooting daggers at me, but the worst is Anna. She won’t even look at me. It’s a stark contrast to our last interaction, but a quick glance to the top of her desk to see what’s captured everyone’s attention tells me why.

  There are three photos. They’re grainy, and a bit out of focus, but the images are clear enough to see, and they are all time stamped. The first one is of me and Anna meeting outside the press offices Thursday night. It was after she’d stood up. The second is of us entering her bedroom after leaving the Solarium Friday night. The third of me exiting her bedroom this morning.

  “Who the hell took pictures?” I can’t stop myself from asking, unable to keep my eyes from the second photo. It’s too grainy to see our expressions, but you don’t need them. Our intent is visible in the way my fingers clutch the fabric of her skirt, my hand positioned too low to be entirely appropriate. The emotion seen in her upturned face, her arms moving up to draw me close. Part of me aches because it was such an incredible night, such an incredible weekend. Yet, here in color photos, it looks cheap and dirty.

  I look away from the pictures when I realize no one is speaking. “Well,” I say, not sure why they’re just standing there doing nothing except staring at me. When no one replies, their reason for calling me into the Oval Office slowly becomes clear. “You can’t be serious…”

  The Director states calmly, “We were hoping you could tell us more about them.”

  I’m shell shocked. I never understood that expression before today, but now I get it completely. “You think I had someone take these?” I ask. “Why? What possible reason would I have to do that?”

  I’m looking at Anna, but it’s David who answers. “Given the unique nature of your Press Pool assignment, I think it’s very clear why you’re here. GBNC needs higher ratings. What gets ratings? Scandals. What type of scandal draws the highest ratings? Sex scandals. You connect the dots.”

  I’m silent for a minute trying to sort everything out in my head, and when I do, I’m talking directly to her. “You think GBNC put me on assignment in your Press Pool so I could seduce you and take pictures of it? That I would use and exploit you in order to get higher ratings? You really think that little of me?” I want to beg her to remember how we were less than twenty-four hours ago, and the connection we shared. But I don’t because they are private and sacred moments, and I refuse to sully them by speaking of them with anyone other than her. She hasn’t answered me yet, so I try again. “Do you really think I could do that, Anna?”

  She turns her head slowly and when she faces me, the mask is firmly in place. Even covering her eyes now. She stands to her feet, her voice ice as she answers. “Yes, I do. And it’s Madame President to you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Her

  White House

  Washington DC

  I wasn’t surprised to wake up alone on Monday. Navin had to get up and out before too many people were up and about. It would have been nice to say goodbye to him... or maybe not. Probably a wise move on his part. I could see us crawling back into bed for a quickie and getting caught when it turned out to be not so quick.

  I’m in meetings for most of the day. I usually don’t mind because I brainstorm best when surrounded by people, and being in a group setting usually makes me feel more alive. But I can’t focus today. I listen and if someone wants my advice, they ask for it.

  My inability to focus on the task at hand bothers me which makes me uncharacteristically short when talking. Somehow, my bad mood seems to spread to everyone I come in contact with.

  All things considered, it’s been a pretty shitty day even before David knocks on my office door and silently places my worst fear on my desk.

  I’ve been played. By Navin.

  I feel as if I could vomit. All those beautiful things he whispered over the weekend had been nothing but a script he was reading from. Hot tears prickle my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. He doesn’t deserve them.

  “I’ve called Director Standard,” David says and all I can do is nod. It makes sense. I would have thought his men would have noticed someone or something taking pictures. But what do I know? It’ll be interesting to see what the Director has to say, to explain how someone who could do this was let i
nside the White House. And then at some point I have to face Navin.

  Better now than later, I think. Go ahead and rip the bandage off instead of taking it off slowly. I see no benefit in drawing the pain out longer than necessary. Get it off, over, and done with as soon as possible so you can continue on with your life. No matter that you now know how boring your black and white life is in comparison to the splendor of technicolor you experienced briefly.

  I’m not ashamed of what I did with Navin. What’s embarrassing is that the scripted sex with Navin was so much better than anything I’d experienced while in a relationship.

  Director Standard comes in and while David brings him up to speed, I make a call. When I finish, both men are looking at me. I take the phone on my desk and pass it to the director. “Call and have him come here now.”

  “Are you sure, Madame President?” David asks.

  I shot him a don’t question me look. “Very.”

  He wisely doesn’t say anything else.

  Even though I’m the one who asked for Navin to be brought in, I’m unable to look him in his eyes until he’s all but begging me not to believe what’s right in front of me, and then has the nerve to call me Anna.

  After I set him straight, I look to David and the Director. “Gentleman, please allow me to speak to Mr. Hazar privately.”

  They both speak at once.

  “Madame President, with all due respect—"

  “I don’t think that’s in your best—"

  I hold my hand up and they both stop talking. “I don’t recall asking for anyone’s opinion.”

  They are less than thrilled with my decision, but that’s the good thing about being in charge. They don’t have to like it.

  A sliver of hope appears in Navin’s eyes. It won’t be there for long. I’m getting ready to snuff it out for good. I wait until the door shuts behind David and Director Standard.

  “Madame President,” he tries to talk first, but I shut him down the same way I did with the other two moments ago.

  “There’s something you should know before you say anything,” I say. It sounds so cryptic, he obviously decides to believe me, and doesn’t try to say anything else. I take a deep breath. “I spoke to Edward Rainer a few minutes ago.”

  Navin’s face turns a deathly shade of pale at the realization I’ve been chatting with the CEO of the company he works for. “I see,” he says, his jaw tight.

  I doubt he does, but I don’t care at the moment. “I explained that even though we have no issues with you, we’ve been getting complaints from other outlets that in allowing you so much time on the Press Pool we’re showing GBNC unprecedented favoritism. Which, as you can imagine, could potentially call into question the validity of a free press.”

  Navin remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

  “You will remain on the Press Pool until the upcoming benefit,” I tell him. “After that you can either return to New York or stay in Washington. If you stay, you will be treated and welcomed as any member of the news media.”

  “Except with no exclusive contact with the President,” he adds.

  “I thought that would be in our best interest, all things considered.”

  He snorts. “All things considered, my ass. You got me fired.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Really?” I’ve never seen Navin so angry, there’s a vein on his forehead and it’s pulsing. “Then why did you get me kicked off your Press Pool?”

  “I’ve always thought you had alternative reasons for being on it to begin with. I’ve never kept that a secret from you.”

  “Let me clue you in on something, Madame President.” It’s the way I told him to address me, but every time he says it, he’s throwing a dart at my heart, because all I can hear is the way he’s been calling me Anna. He notices my flinch, but keeps talking, “Just because you think something’s there doesn’t make it so. You don’t have that much power.”

  All of this, and he’s still not being honest with me. “Mr. Hazar,” I say, refusing to give into the urge to match his tone and rage. I need to say what I need to calmly so he realizes the choice is entirely his. “Your time is limited. What I’m saying is, on the off chance you did happen to come here on less than disclosed reasons, if you want to clear yourself from any suspicion you had anything to do with this,” I wave to the photos, “tell me what your real reasons are for being part of my Press Pool.”

  He gives a sad laugh. “Damn it all.”

  “What?”

  “I vastly underestimated your ability to be President. You’re much better than my pizza delivery boy could ever hope to be.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “What does that mean?”

  “Pull up a chair, Madame President, it’s going to be a long story.”

  Over the next forty-five minutes, he tells me everything. From the way GBNC found out about our past history at law school and his following demotion to the Press Pool, to Gabe and the information he’d heard from sources. He admits so far, he’s only looked into David and Nicole, and doesn’t have much to offer in the way of evidence. I sit back and don’t interrupt. I believe him, not just because what little information he has matches what Director Wiggins has been telling me, but because I have him in a position where he has no other choice but to be honest.

  After hearing about the animosity between him and Edward, I wish I hadn’t called the man. But even if I’d called George, it wouldn’t change the outcome. Nor did it matter what Navin’s intentions were when he entered the White House. The truth is I can’t have him here any more.

  He finally finishes and slumps in the chair where he’s been sitting, like he just completed a marathon. I feel his exhaustion.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I say. “I’m going to pass on to Wiggins what you’ve told me pertaining to the leak, but other than that, everything else I’ll consider confidential.”

  “Can I help you?” he asks. “While I’m still here, that is.”

  “I’m not sure where we need to go from here.” Until they’re out of my mouth, I don’t notice how my words could be applied to both our work situation and our personal whatever-the-hell-we-are situation.

  “Maybe that’s where we need to start.”

  I stand and walk to the window facing the Rose Garden. It’s too hard to sit next to him. Too hard when my body recalls his with such vivid images. My ache for him is both figurative and literal. I want him. I no longer think he had anything to do with the pictures; I’m not sure I ever thought he did.

  I don’t notice he’s behind me until he places a hand on my shoulder, and whispers, “Do you know why I finally told you everything?”

  “Because I had you between a rock and a hard place and you had no other choice?”

  “No,” he is adamant in his denial. “There is always a choice. Always. I told you because I want to be honest with you, with nothing between us but the truth. So that you would believe me when I tell you that I don’t want this past weekend to be all there is for us. I want us. For real and in public.”

  He’s handed me exactly what I want, what I’ve secretly longed for. I can’t accept it. Tears once more prickle my eyes. This time, I blink and one slides down my cheek.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Him

  Washington DC

  The part that sucks the most about being on the Presidential Press Pool, is that there is no way to avoid being around the President. While this isn’t a hardship for most, they also didn’t get their hearts handed back to them in the Oval Office on a silver platter once used by Abigail Adams when her husband was in office.

  Anna and I work hard to appear like we’re nothing but the professionals everyone assumes we are. I’m not sure we’re fooling anyone and for once my press peers aren’t bugging the shit out of me for answers. The only thing they know is that I will be leaving after the benefit.

  Director Standard has been unable to discover who took the pictures or how they came t
o be in David’s office to begin with. My suspicion is on David himself, but I don’t tell anyone about my thoughts on the matter because the last thing I want to do is implicate an innocent man. I have no proof, I just don’t like him, and my thoughts are of no consequence.

  The meeting with Anna in the Oval Office, painful as it was, forced me to reevaluate my life. Where I am versus where I want to be. As a result, I’ve made some big decisions. Funny how I would have never taken such a hard look at myself if it hadn’t been for her. As soon as I decided what I was going to do and started working toward making it happen, she was the first person I wanted to tell and share my plan with. But I didn’t, and, as far as I’m aware, she still doesn’t know.

  I’m not returning to New York City after the benefit. Nor will I be staying in Washington DC as part of the media. Once I left the Oval Office that day, I submitted my resignation, effective the day before the benefit. The executives are still pissed, they never got the fourth interview, but I don’t care. I told them Gabe would be glad to do it. I’ll be too busy.

  I’m going back to Harvard Law as a second-year student.

  It was my decision to repeat the first six months of my second year, mainly because it’s been a long time since I’ve darkened a door of higher education. I never thought I’d be so ready to quit GBNC, of the surprising relief at no longer being a news journalist. Now with all the decisions made and the plans put into place, I’m eager to get this part of my life done with. I’m looking forward to the challenges of law school and hopefully, one day, years from now, perhaps becoming a judge. I’ll be forever grateful to Anna for giving me that dream back. I’d rather have her, but even though she won’t be by my side, she’ll never be far from my heart.