by Claire Adams
Rachel paused before answering. The mere mention of me seemed to echo throughout the room. I heard her parse through her coffee filters and plopped one into the maker before filling it with water. I heard her hit the button and let the crackling begin.
“Thank you,” Xavier said again, bringing his voice into the mighty absence of noise.
Rachel grunted. “So. What is that you have there?” I peered around the chair once more, noting that Xavier had seated himself away from the living room, rather than toward it. In his left hand, I saw beautiful, brightly-colored tulips. My heart flip-flopped.
“Oh, it’s nothing. They’re just—they’re for someone, if I found her here.” He smacked the back of his neck with his free hand, looking a bit sheepish. “Doesn’t seem that I’m that lucky, though.”
Rachel didn’t say anything. She eyed me, and I skirted back, suddenly realizing that I’d been hidden for far too long to make anything happen. I would remain there, hidden, or be deemed a creepy spy for the rest of my days. My heartbeat quickened, and I began to shiver on the floor. There was no escape.
I couldn’t stop myself though, and looked around the chair again.
Rachel reached toward the cabinet filled with coffee cups and retrieved two. “You know. I think I know what’s going on,” she offered. “And if it’s any consolation, I don’t think it’s over.”
I frowned at these words, feeling anxious that she should deliver these words, not me. But she knew how strained and angry I was, all the time. She knew that sometimes, I didn’t have the words—that usually I just switched to a quick vessel of madness, rather than speaking out my emotions appropriately.
Xavier placed the flowers on the table and kneaded at the back of his neck. In so many ways, I longed to kiss that place between the two bones—that hollow. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and feel his hands over my arms, around my butt. I wanted him so near me.
She passed the coffee to him, and I could hear him lightly slurp it. I knew it would get in his beard, that he would have to wipe it away. This was so much a part of him, it nearly hurt me to think about it. “So. You’ve spoken with her? She hasn’t been at her house in weeks, I’m told. Actually, my agents have mentioned that she often stays here.” These words were a bit obtuse, a bit overreaching.
Rachel lurched her head back, a frown drowning over her normally chipper eyes. She shook her head. “You’ve been spying on me?”
Xavier shook his head slowly, knowing he’d fucked up. He placed his coffee cup on the table and sighed. “It’s just. I have agents watch out for her, sometimes. Just so I know she’s safe.”
Rachel sighed. “And they directed you here, this morning?”
Xavier brought the tulips into the air once more. “The reason I knew to bring this gesture,” he murmured. He spun the bouquet, gazing at the pinks, the purples, the yellows, the oranges. “A beautiful flower. Perhaps one of the strangest, as well. Like her, in many ways. So confident, so self-assured. And yet so starkly beautiful and unique—something you can’t keep your mind off of. You know?”
Graciously, Rachel didn’t say anything. She bit her lip across from him at the table and then took a long drag from the coffee cup before her.
“Anyway. She’s not here. So my search must commence.”
“What is it you’re planning to say to her? Just that—she’s unique? That you can’t stop thinking about her?” Rachel began. Her voice was soft.
“I wouldn’t pretend to know precisely what I would say, faced with the likes of her,” Xavier admitted. He messed with the flowers once more. “It seems I’ve never met anyone who made me both instantly so happy and so very, very angry. She fills me with emotion, you know?”
Rachel nodded. “It’s lucky, really. To find that sense of emotion. It’s like blood flow. It’s like oxygen.”
Xavier didn’t say anything. He sipped at his coffee and sat there with my best friend in peace, gazing at the walls around her apartment. Still, I sat strong, silent in the living room. Still, I waited for everything to fall apart.
Finally, after several more minutes, he stood up. He stretched his taut legs, and he brought the flowers back into his arms.
“You’re leaving?” Rachel asked, her voice a bit chipper. I was sure she felt awkward, knowing all she did about our situation.
Xavier sighed. “I am. I couldn’t take up any more of your time. I must get back to the White House, to figure out the wreckage that is my current campaign. Without Amanda, I’m lost. Jason has no idea what he’s doing. It’s a power struggle for him, pure and simple. He’s not trying to better the society of this country. He’s just trying to better himself.”
Rachel walked toward the door in front of Xavier. She turned the handle and allowed Xavier to exit, even as he chortled.
He paused for a moment, biting at his lip. I was sure that Rachel was about to break. “Please tell her I stopped by,” he said. With a flourish, he was gone from the doorway, bursting down the hallway. Rachel closed the door behind him and stood that way, her hand on the door knob, for what seemed like forever.
As soon as she heard him scurry down the first few steps, she flung herself to my side of the room. Her eyes were so large in her head. “Can you believe that just happened?” she whispered, her voice harsh.
I shook my head, bringing my hand over my cheeks. “I should have done something,” I whispered. “I should have told him I was here; I should have allowed him to understand that I still care about him. Life is too short, Rachel.” My voice staggered. I jolted up from my position on the ground and tore the sweatshirt from my body. I reached toward a dress that still hung, haphazardly, off the chair beside me. I wrapped it over me, and then, without thinking, opened the balcony door.
“No!” Rachel called, her voice hissing. “You haven’t prepared yourself! You don’t know what you want to say!”
But before I could think about it, I was standing on the balcony in just a dress. Beneath me, standing at his stretch black limousine, was the President of the United States. An agent had opened the back door for him, and Xavier was halfway into it, still holding the flowers in his left hand.
He brought his other hand into a wave then. His face lit up brilliantly. He called toward me. “I thought you weren’t home!”
I thought wildly. “Just got back!” I lied.
He nodded, his grin stretching over his face. He held the flowers up toward me, pointing them at me.
“What are those?” I asked him, playing dumb.
“You know what they are!” he called back, shaking his head. “You know!”
“How can I talk to you? I’m all the way up here!”
“Come down,” Xavier said, gesturing. “Come on! It won’t be long. And hey. It’s private. This isn’t business. Just to be clear.” His smile grew larger.
“As long as you’re sure,” I said back, spinning around and winding toward the back of the apartment. Rachel stood in the kitchen, a cup of coffee still in her hands.
“Remember what I told you,” she whispered, bringing her arms around me as I pushed toward the door. I halted, allowing her to hug me and feeling the warmth of her friendship.
“I will, mom,” I teased, bursting through the door. “I’ll be right back!”
I wound down the steps, toward the front of the apartment building. There, standing by the limo, stood the President of the United States. He held flowers in his hands, and his eyes were geared only toward me. I calmed my speeding heart and placed a cool, dispassionate smile on my face. “Hey,” I called to him, taking long strides.
“Hey,” he answered back. He handed the flowers toward me, nearly touching my hands during the transition. In this moment, my mind had begun to spin once more. I knew that I wanted to see him, that I wanted to be with him. But wasn’t this far too complicated?
“I didn’t think you were home,” he gestured.
I shook my head. “I wasn’t. I took the elevator. I went to the grocery store.” The lines
were coming swiftly, coolly from my mouth. He had no questions, no qualms.
“I’m glad I caught you,” he said, his eyes unsure. A few feet behind him, the Secret Service agents looked on, beyond us. “I wanted to—I wanted to tell you I was sorry once more. I’ve been a mess, a completely terrible friend. I want to make things right between us. And I’m willing to do whatever I can.”
I blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. Of course, he was offering me his world. He was offering a time in which we could love each other, be with each other. But did I want that life?
My voice was hesitant as I brought the words forth. “I suppose we could talk it out,” I stated then. “I’d love to be friends.”
His eyes lost a small edge, a small gleam. “Friends. Yes. Are you free at all this week? I know you said you were taking a leave from the office, but—“
I brought my hand up and waved it to the side. I paused before proceeding, knowing in my heart that this was the right move. “Xavier. I don’t want to quit. This has been my life dream, from the beginning. I’d love to meet you for lunch. Does Monday work well for you?”
Xavier nodded subtly, looking at me with such earnestness.
“You haven’t told anyone I’ve quit, have you?” I asked him, worried suddenly. My heart leaped into my throat.
He shook his head, nearly laughing. “I didn’t want to face that quite yet,” he murmured. “Too much has been on my mind lately.”
“Well,” I sniffed. “We can work that out on Monday. At least some of it. I don’t know about the Chinese government or what you have going on in Russia. But I’m willing to learn; I’m willing to be there for you.” My voice was filled with tenderness.
He nodded. “I know. And I want to be here for you, as well. Which is why I want to talk to you about dealing with our little Jason problem on Monday, as well.”
I closed my eyes, remembering, in a great blast of regret, that going into work meant that I would have to see Jason once more. I could see his stupid grin, his fat, smirking cheeks. I shook for a moment, remembering the threats he’d thrown at me. But I had to be strong.
One of the Secret Service agents approached us then, and leaned toward Xavier. He murmured something about being outside, out in the open like this. Xavier brought his hand up, nodding. His eyes darted toward me once more. “I think that’s my cue.”
“I understand. You’re called,” I said, my voice chipper. My heart wanted him to stay by my side. My heart wanted me to demand of him how the hell we were going to stay together, with so much up against us.
“I’ll see you Monday?” he asked. He shot toward the limo, his eyes toward me.
I nodded, bringing the tulips up toward my face. “Monday!” I called to him.
I watched as the limo sped out of the apartment parking lot, out toward the freeway. I wondered what Xavier thought about in that moment, as he leaned his head back onto the limo headrest. I dreamed of a future in which we could be together, in which we could each live with equal political power. I dreamed of a future in which I could feel safe in loving him, in which I could hold his hand and speak with him in the open about anything and everything.
I turned and fled up the steps once more, anxious for the coming meeting with Xavier, and incredibly anxious to get back to work and clamber back into my career woman status. After all: I had been away for a mere few days, and yet: I already had the itch to keep moving, keep driving. As my mother once said, I could never stop the success train. When I felt boredom and stillness shroud around me, I was bound to take action.
Chapter Eight
The following Monday, I arrived back at the office bright and early. I tapped along, feeling such a vivaciousness about me once more. It was like I had been reborn. Everyone who saw me said hello, such surprise glimmering in their eyes. They all wondered where I had gone, why I had disappeared. Suddenly, I was back. Like a whirlwind.
I sat at my desk and peered across the many campaign workers, all of whom were working on the campaign strategy for the following year. It was a challenge for many of them, I knew. After all: this was often a first-job-out-of-college situation—a situation in which people were often in over their heads, scrambling to create something good for both the future of this presidency and the future of their careers. The campaign trail was only traveled so long.
I parsed through the phone book in my computer, reading all of the many names of the team. I hadn’t hired a single one of them. I wondered who had. I had been hired after all of them, I knew; only after the person in my role had stepped down. I bit my lip and finally found the girls’ names. Monica and Tiffany. I bit my lip and brought my phone to my chin, dialing the numbers slowly. I made sure that everyone in the surrounding desks were paying attention only to their computers, their work. And then, I allowed the phones to ring.
The first girl I rang answered the phone after three solid rings. She sounded annoyed, surely recognizing the office number. But I explained to her the situation.
“Hi, Tiffany,” I stated into the phone. “This is Amanda Martin. I wondered if I could ask you and your friend, Monica—who I will be calling here shortly—if you would like your positions back on the campaign team. Both of you ladies have such enormous potential. You belong to this place, to this creative, energetic zone. Won’t you consider?”
“Um.” The girl on the other line was clearly surprised. I hadn’t taken a single speck of interest in her in the previous few months, and now I was calling her personal line. “Monica and I will have to talk it over.”
“I understand!” I interjected. “Of course. Just please understand that one woman losing her cool should not be enough to pummel you out of this business. I’m trying to keep you on track.” I swallowed, closing my eyes. Already, I felt like some formation of my mother. I felt like I was bowing to them, ready to please them with anything.
Tiffany paused for a moment. “What the heck, Miss Martin,” she stated then. I heard her smack her gum. “I want that job back. God, I do. I’ll convince Monica to come back, as well.”
“I can expect you back tomorrow morning?” I asked her, my voice nearly quivering. I wanted to make her seem strong, powerful. We couldn’t have any more fearmongering in this place.
“Yes. Both of us,” Tiffany said, assuring me. “I look forward to it!”
“Me, too, Tiffany,” I whispered. I clicked the phone closed and peered around me, a sense of pride entering back into my soul. This was what I was meant to do: to create opportunities for these women, to fuel a growth in the women’s population at the White House.
I got up then, and walked toward the desk at which the young girls would be sitting. I arranged the papers, the folders. I spun back around and found myself face-to-face with Jason then. My pleasure in my actions shattered at the look on Jason’s face. It was a look of malice.
“What are you up to?” he asked me, leaning against his desk. He brought me closer to him by tugging at my sleeve, and I could feel his breath on my cheek.
“What do you mean?” I swallowed, shaking my head.
“All this sneaking around behind my back. You have to remember that I’m on your side, in many ways, Amanda.” He blared an evil smile toward me.
“It’s not that, Jason,” I said, shaking my body from his hands, so oily, they slipped right off me, leaving a sweat patch. “I’ve just been really ill. You have to understand that.” I smiled at him half-heartedly, moving toward my desk once more. I spun around and swerved into my desk, peering down at the messy papers beneath me. My face burned, and I dared him to approach me once more, to tell me what to do. I dared him to try to ruin me.
Suddenly, Dimitri appeared at my side. His burly self took up so much space. He crossed his arms and leaned close to me, a disapproving expression lingering over his lips. “The president would like to speak with you for your lunch hour.”
“I’ll be there straight away, Dimitri,” I said, smiling up at him, shaking myself from my anger toward Jason.
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But Dimitri didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Amanda. This is a confidential location, and I must take you myself. You understand?”
My heart quickened. I stood up hurriedly, nodding. A fearful expression waffled across my face. I knew I needed to appear strong in front of him; I knew I needed to show him that I could be his campaign manager and even his girlfriend, if I wanted to be. I couldn’t let things phase me in the same ways anymore.
I followed Dimitri down the steps. I expected him to take me back toward the side room, offered only through a separate door, at the base of the White House. But he led me just a few floors down, closer to the East Wing. I peered at him curiously, my eyebrows furrowed. He opened the door.
“Here?” I whispered, my voice scratchy.
He nodded disdainfully toward me, his eyes still searching beyond me. He wouldn’t be friendly toward me again, I knew.
I entered the room. It was small, brought together with floral blue wallpaper. Several gold mirrors glittered around the room, reflecting my fine, feathery brunette hair and my small waist. I twirled in the mirror as Dimitri shut the door behind him, leaving me in peace.
The table had already been set. A large, golden slow cooker was sitting in the center, closed and sealing the heat for our fantastic meal. I eased toward it and opened it, finding myself braced with the elaborate smell of spiced and herbed chicken, potatoes, Brussels sprouts. I closed it quickly and felt my stomach rattling. So empty.
I twirled once more, feeling the anxiety filter away from me. It was like I could suddenly pretend like the previous few weeks of anger, of sadness had never happened. In my reverie of lost thought, I couldn’t hear anything; I held my eyes closed. I was alone in my little world.
Suddenly, I felt his hands at my waist. I stopped short and leaned into his warm body, feeling the fineness of his suit between my fingers. I kept my eyes closed as he brought his hands more tightly around my waist, wrapping me into an embrace.
“You’re a beautiful dancer,” he breathed into my ear, making me feel so sensual. My brain dove into sexual thought immediately. I imagined myself on top of him, humping him. Making his eyes close with passion.