by Tanya Jolie
John huffed out an angered breath. “All right, and what the hell to you suggest we do since you’re so wise?” he demanded.
Anita rolled her eyes. “I am wise. That’s why I’m here!” she snapped.
Bruce cut in quickly. “Can we not call each other names like children? Now, back to Palestine… I think we need more information. I mean, if you ask me, this is classic Russia manipulating everyone around her. Putin has got that whole continent eating out of his palm, and we have to do something if we want to nip his influence in the bud.”
“And what, exactly, do we do?” Anita demanded, throwing her attention in his direction. “Since you are so urgent to ignore our domestic issues, even though we have reporters camped out on the White House lawn waiting for a word, why don’t you tell me what your brilliant solution is.”
Bruce glowered at her, though he somehow managed to maintain an infuriatingly amused smile on his lips.
She internally kicked herself for even noticing those lips, but now that she had, she couldn't get them out of her head.
She looked away. “Look, all I have to say is that this is not a good idea. The way that you are handling this, the way that we all are handling this, is not good. We are keeping the media from inside the eye of the situation in Baltimore, refusing to let their people even near Birmingham, meanwhile, our National Guard is completely helpless, but we treat our police force like they are authorized to handle military machinery. We are fostering distrust in our decisions, while doing nothing about the actual situation. If we make the wrong choice, we could lose public support and once we do that, it won’t matter what we decide to do about Putin, because without the support of our country, we will get nothing done. We are not the secret service. We are not the Central Intelligence Agency. We are the United States Government. Am I the only one acting like it?”
The president spoke first in the silence that followed. “Look, Bradshaw… I'm sorry that you feel all of these things, but if you are so sympathetic to the media, maybe you should go join them with a stake and a microphone and leave the real decisions to the men who can handle being in charge.”
Anita could have ignored the gender reference, if she wasn’t, indeed, the only woman in the room aside from Victoria, who was really just President Holland’s Vana White. She shook her head. “I don’t care what your think of me, but I care what they think of us. You said you have a solution, so let’s hear it.” She was the only person within a hundred thousand miles who would talk to the president that way.
Holland opened his mouth to respond, but Bruce cut it. “Weren’t you listening?” he demanded. “Rhetoric and support. It’s simple.” He then snapped, “You are wasting our time, Bradshaw.”
Anita set her jaw. She was starting to sound like a sad breaking record in that room full of men, and at that moment, all she wanted was another cup of coffee and a big bowl of soup. Blood rushed to her face, and she could hardly continue to argue in that stuffy room. She could tell when she was losing. She didn’t need a dismissal to make that obvious.
Chapter Three
“Rhodes.”
Anita groaned at the sound of Victoria’s voice. Was it too much to ask to get out of that hot room and above ground without any more distractions or annoying conversations?
Apparently.
“Yes?” she snapped as she picked up her empty mug and went to join Victoria at the front of the conference room.
“I know you’re a little mad at Bruce for being right—”
Anita blinked twice. This was not happening. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were allowed to have an opinion. You’re a glorified secretary,” she replied.
Victoria winced, but recovered quickly. “Say what you will,” she started, leaning into Anita with that menacing smile on her face, “but at least the president actually takes my advice.”
Anita rolled her eyes. “On what? Which tie to wear.”
Victoria scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. That’s his wife’s job.”
“Oh please. That wouldn’t be the only time you’ve overstepped the first lady’s, ‘duties’,” she stated. Anita knew that Victoria was the worst kind of skank.
The woman bit her lip, then fired back, “This isn’t about me. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
Anita shrugged, noting the hilariously condescending way Victoria spoke to her superior. “Whatever you say.”
Victoria let out a dark chuckle. “You’re such a sore loser,” she said with a sniff.
“This is not about me, Victoria, or you. This is bigger than us, believe it or not.” Anita was starting to lose patience, unable to handle someone as daft as Victoria for more than five minutes. “Besides, is there a reason you’re wasting my morning with this pleasant chit-chat?”.
Victoria nodded slowly. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I told Bruce you would get him up to speed.”
Anita got real dizzy, real fast. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the mere thought of being alone with him, while at the same time she seriously wondered if she could resist the urge to physically fight him… “You can’t be serious,” she mumbled.
A mischievous smile stretched across the woman's smug face. “Oh, but I am.” she replied, “but don’t worry, we’re already going on a date, so, he probably won’t try anything with you.” She added the last part as a whisper into Anita's ear. Her breath, annoyingly, smelled of strawberries and yogurt.
Anita glowered at her. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded.
Victoria just shrugged and left the room, and over her shoulder she said, “I’m really not.”
Anita let out a sigh before she slowly made her way out of the situation room. Much to her surprise, Bruce was waiting on the other side of the door, his briefcase in one hand, and a black cigarette in the other.
“You smoke?” she demanded.
His lips folded into a crooked smile, one Anita couldn’t help but find seductive. “Are you gonna judge my moral character now?” he retorted.
Anita’s facial features arranged themselves into stale expression. She was getting extremely tired of the high school antics of the morning. “I don’t care about your moral character,” she muttered as she started walking down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” he asked, following her down the hall and into the elevator.
Anita tried not to think about the fact that she was in such a small, enclosed space with one of the hottest men she had ever met in the real world. “To my office. I have an apple waiting for me, as well as the briefs for Russia.”
He scoffed as the elevator doors dragged open. “Glad to see you’ve hopped on board.”
Anita shook her head, her eyes scrunching in confusion. “See, I don’t get that. Why does everyone expect me to be so destructively selfish?” she asked, more to herself than to him as she made her way to her office.
He followed her inside and stood in the center of it, his tall frame fixing itself in her space like a valiant Greek statue.
“Because you are ridiculously competitive,” he replied at last.
Somehow, he made it sound like it was a compliment.
Anita stood over her desk, desperately sifting through her mess of papers for the Russia file that had embarrassingly alluded her for some reason. She nodded. “Well, whatever. Look, do you really need help from me, because I have a lot to do…”
Bruce shrugged. “Well, I’ve got almost a decade of secret deals, foreign policy, and UN bullshit to study up on, so it would be nice if you would just do your job and brief me on the Russia situation.”
Anita rolled her eyes so hard, it made her headache worse, then gestured for him to sit down. Once they were both at her desk with a large file sprawled across it, less than a foot separated their faces and Anita found it literally impossible to ignore his eyes. “Okay, well here we have Putin. The media will tell you that he is some dictator mastermind who is trying to take over the world, but it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Is it?” Bruce asked, looking up at her.
Anita made the mistake of looking back, allowing their eyes to lock. For the first time in a long time, she felt her brain freeze. Every complex thought that had just been banging against the wall of her skull hung suspended in her head, frozen in time. It was a blissful silence she didn’t know how to interpret.
“Yes. It is,” she eventually replied, kicking herself for the crush she could literally feel coming into being.
Chapter Four
Anita, having showered and changed into her pajamas after an uneventful kickboxing class, settled down in front of her plasma for some shitty reality television to calm her nerves. Ever since her charged conversation with Bruce, his impossibly blue eyes were all that she could think about. She wanted to talk to him about how he had gotten his job in the office, where he had come from, what his goals were in the UN, but at the same time, she couldn’t stand the way that he was constantly challenging her and subverting her authority, despite the fact that he was the new kid, not the other way around.
She stuffed her face with yet another fork-full of poorly made spaghetti as the theme of Million Dollar Listing came across her television and filled her living room, but even watching Louis’ self-absorbed monologueing couldn’t lift her out of her thoughts. After another fifteen minutes of staring at her television but not actually seeing anything, she picked up her phone and called Jori.
“Hello?” she answered in with a voice that indicated her mouth was full.
“Hey you,” Anita sighed.
“You sound tired. Today was an early day, thank God. So go to sleep,” Jori told her.
Anita shook her head. “Are you kidding me? After what happened today?” she asked, referring to the massive failure that was the situation room.
Jori just laughed. “You say that like you’re the one who has to face public outrage over decisions you didn’t even have a say in.”
“Isn’t that what we all have to do?” she asked. “The president is the only one who can honestly say he has the power to change what happens in that room and he doesn’t seem any better for it.”
“Oh boo hoo. You can complain to me about who has it worse, or you can tell me what the hell is going on with you and Bruce,” Jori demanded.
Anita’s eyes went wide. “You saw us?” she asked.
“You had lunch with him. Everyone saw you.”
“Even Victoria?”
“Even Victoria.”
“Oh God.” Anita groaned.
“Why does it matter what she thinks?” Jori asked.
“Because she’s dating him. She’s the chief of staff. If she has it out for me, she can make my life twenty times more annoying for no real reason,” she replied miserably, too braindead to deal with jealous girl drama right now.
“But he’s only been there for less than a day. How is she already dating him?” she asked.
Anita shrugged. She could admit that it really didn’t make much sense. “Well, I think… he must have…”
Jori scoffed. “Please, she’s probably planning on asking him out and hasn’t gotten up the urge to do it yet.”
Anita rolled her eyes. “Ugh. There are too many single people in office. This feels like high school.”
Jori laughed again. “I don’t know. I think it’s a welcome diversion from trying to stop the end of the world. But anyways, that’s why you should ask him out before she does.”
Anita shook her head, the mere suggestion throwing her off. “I don’t think so… I don’t even know if I want to date him.”
“That’s why you date him!” she exclaimed.
“To find out if I want to date him?” she asked.
Just when Jori was about to say something a shrill ring on her end of the line filled Anita’s earpiece. She glowered at this, moving her phone away from her. “What the hell is that, Williams?” she demanded, just as she heard the same ringing fill her own house.
She dropped the phone and rushed to the kitchen. There, sitting right next to her phone book and her bottle of vodka, was her Blackberry, her government phone, the secure black line. Her eyes went wide as she picked it up and answered.
Twenty minutes later, she had dropped everything, slipped on some yoga pants and rushed down the underground corridor to land right back in the situation room. She was seeing the inside of that much more often than she would have liked those days.
Victoria, who, with her pink lip gloss and perfectly tousled hair, looked like she had stepped out of a bathtub, slammed a copy of a “classified” file in front of all of them, then clicked the television on, showing a PowerPoint slide of the convoy that had been blown up that morning. “Our ground sources can confirm that it was Putin,” she declared.
President Holland, who looked equally put together in his leisure cashmere and reading glasses, stared earnestly at the entire room. “What. Do. We. Do?”
Anita was the first to speak. “I don’t think we can use force. He will use that against us. Israel was our only real ally there, and now it’s obvious that that’s gone.”
“Are you crazy? We have to use force,” Bruce cut in.
Anita blinked twice. There he was, challenging her again. “An executive order?” she demanded. “To do what, destroy our international standing for the next hundred years?”
Bruce shook his head, not even deigning her fit to look at as he argued with her.
For the first time, Anita felt like she was the only person in the room taking anything personally. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t help herself. It was something with his voice, or his face, or his eyes…
“No, a resolution,” he remarked.
“So, you want to start a war?” Anita asked. Her heart was pounding against her chest, and for the first time in the two years that she had been the Secretary of Defense, she felt that she was standing at the front lines of a decision that could change the world forever.
Bruce leaned into her in a way that made her feel like they were the only two people in the room. “A war is already happening. If we want to come out winning, we have to fight it,” he said curtly.
Anita had to physically tear her eyes away from him and focus on the president. She didn’t want this at all, but she couldn’t for the life of her come up with another solution. Horace, the director of the CIA, spoke up first, his strong, New Yorker's accent filling the room. “Look. We don’t have a lot of time. If we push for a resolution, we got backing. And just doing it might be enough to get Putin to back off. This doesn’t mean we have to go to war. It just shows that we’re willing to.”
Jori spoke in a subdued voice. “We can sell it to the press. It’ll up your ratings and take everyone’s mind off of the train wreck that is the domestic situation.”
The president nodded. “Bradshaw and Harrington, I need a proposal on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
Anita gulped. She was about to spend the night with Bruce…. Drafting a resolution
Chapter Five
Anita stood outside, waiting for Bruce and wondering how the hell she had landed herself in this situation. Soon enough, she heard his footsteps behind her. She turned to find him staring down at him. It was the first time she had noticed how much taller than her he was. Being around someone so big didn’t make her feel small, it made her feel safe…
“So, how do you want to do this?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I honestly don’t even know. I’m completely against this, you know.”
He chuckled as the two of them began to take an aimless walk. “How the hell did Holland appoint a pacifist to Secretary of Defense?”
“Because Secretary of Defense is just that, a defensive position, not an offensive one. Only a pacifist can be trusted not to get those two confused,” she replied.
He nodded. “So you admit that you’re a pacifist?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I was in the military for almost eight years. Say what you will,” she said, shamelessly br
agging about her resume.
“Still a little young to be defending the free world,” Bruce muttered.
Her lips shifted into a crooked smile. “I knew it. It was only a matter of time before you brought up my age to use it against me.”
He shrugged. “You look like you’re skipping class, not helping run the country.”
“Since when is looking young a bad thing?” she demanded.
“Since you’re a woman in government.”
Anita glowered, floored at his intelligent insight. “You’re right. I didn’t even think to comment on the fact that you look like you’re in your late twenties too. So what’s your story?” she asked.
He scoffed. “Tonight isn’t about me.”
Anita winced. She felt oddly embarrassed that she had attempted to make things personal, as if to find some common grounds between them, and he had rejected her nonetheless. She decided to pretend she agreed with him, rather than waste time dwelling on the rejection. “Right. We can go to my place. It’s only ten minutes away from here if we use the underground corridor.”
Bruce nodded and the two of them made the trek back to her house in near silence. Once inside, she realized she had left the television on Bravo (the most girlish television station in existence) and neglected to clean up her home. She quickly realized that bringing him here was the most embarrassing thing she could have done. “Oh God,” she muttered as she dove for the remote, shut of Fashion Police and dropped on to the couch.
He joined her there, leaving less than a foot of space between them. She couldn’t believe she was so close to him and in such a private space. All she could think about was his intoxicating scent and his bed head, and it took everything in her to pick up her legal pad and start writing. “The first thing we have to sight is grievances,” she stated, trying her best to ignore the way that her heart was fluttering in her chest.