What people are saying about
The First Lady Escapes
“Just what we need in these dark times: A hilarious and wildly imaginative story about FLOTUS fleeing from the White House and her grotesque husband. And yet it is also strangely plausible—leading to the question, could it all be true?”
Jon Weiner, host of Trump Watch, KPFK 90.7 FM Los Angeles
“The First Lady escapes the White House with the help of a lively troupe of characters who stand for everything the President despises. This fantastical tale spins into a hilarious contest of power, willfulness, and cunning.”
Maureen Muldaur, Award-winning Documentary Filmmaker
“This hugely entertaining tale resonates with the hitherto unimaginable absurdities of current affairs. Never was a book more engaging nor more timely. I chuckled all the way through it.”
Lionel Friedberg, Author of New York Times bestseller Full Service
“What a page turner! The engrossing, racy, and humorous writing speeds you along. The best literary/political escape of the year!”
Ivor Davis, Author of The Beatles and Me on Tour
“A rippingly funny and surreal lampoon, the comic relief we so desperately need from the twisted absurdity of our current political horrors. It will leave you gasping with laughter and Trumpetized at the same time.”
Jennifer Evans, Author of Bitchin’ in the Kitchen
“I can’t stop laughing! I’m buying a hundred copies to pass out at the next Women’s March!”
Robin Leavitt, Loyal participant in the Women’s March, Ketchum, Idaho
“Exactly what I need to get through the horrors of our current state of affairs. I constantly catch myself cracking up while reading chapters aloud to others.”
Woosterlad, Disheartened Liberal from the Bay Area
First published by Roundfire Books, 2019
Roundfire Books is an imprint of John Hunt Publishing Ltd., No. 3 East St., Alresford, Hampshire SO24 9EE, UK
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For distributor details and how to order please visit the ‘Ordering’ section on our website.
Text copyright: Verity Speeks 2018
ISBN: 978 1 78904 208 5
978 1 78904 209 2 (ebook)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018952030
All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publishers.
The rights of Verity Speeks as author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Design: Stuart Davies
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
UK: Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
US: Printed and bound by Thomson Shore, 7300 West Joy Road, Dexter, MI 48130
We operate a distinctive and ethical publishing philosophy in all areas of our business, from our global network of authors to production and worldwide distribution.
Contents
Prologue
The White House: December 15, 11:31 p.m.
Part I: Two Weeks Earlier
Chapter 1 New York City, December 1, 2:00 p.m.
Chapter 2 New York City, December 1, 2:30 p.m.
Chapter 3 New York City, December 1, 2:45 p.m.
Chapter 4 New York City, December 1, 4:00 p.m.
Part II: Two Weeks Later (Continuous with Prologue)
Chapter 5 The White House, December 16, 12:25 a.m.
Chapter 6 The White House, December 16, 7:00 a.m.
Chapter 7 The White House, December 16, 8:00 a.m.
Chapter 8 The White House, December 16, 11:00 a.m.
Chapter 9 The White House, December 16, 12:00 p.m.
Chapter 10 The White House, December 17, 1:30 a.m.
Chapter 11 The White House, December 17, 8:00 a.m.
Chapter 12 The White House, December 17, 8:30 a.m.
Chapter 13 The White House, December 17, 9:00 a.m.
Chapter 14 The White House, December 17, 10:30 a.m.
Chapter 15 The White House, December 17, 10:45 a.m.
Part III
Chapter 16 The White House, December 17, 11:15 a.m.
Chapter 17 Highway West of Washington, D.C., December 17, 12:00 p.m.
Chapter 18 Washington, D.C., December 17, 1:00 p.m.
Chapter 19 The White House, December 17, 3:00 p.m.
Chapter 20 Washington, D.C., December 17, 5:00 p.m.
Chapter 21 Knoxville, TN, December 17, 10:00 p.m.
Chapter 22 Washington, D.C., December 17, 11:00 p.m.
Chapter 23 The White House, December 18, 1:30 a.m.
Chapter 24 Between Nashville and Jackson, TN, December 18, 2:00 a.m.
Chapter 25 The White House, December 18, 2:15 a.m.
Chapter 26 Between Jackson and Memphis, TN, December 18, 3:30 a.m.
Chapter 27 The White House, December 18, 3:00 a.m.
Chapter 28 The White House, December 18, 3:15 a.m.
Chapter 29 Dallas, TX, December 18, 10:00 a.m.
Chapter 30 Azusa, CA, December 18, 11:00 a.m.
Chapter 31 El Paso, TX, December 18, 12:00 p.m.
Chapter 32 The White House, December 18, 3:00 p.m.
Chapter 33 Tucson, AZ, December 18, 6:00 p.m.
Chapter 34 The White House, December 18, 7:00 p.m.
Chapter 35 Near the Mexican Border, CA, December 18, 10:00 p.m.
Part IV
Chapter 36 San Diego, CA, December 18, 10:30 p.m.
Chapter 37 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 19, 2:00 a.m.
Chapter 38 Washington, D.C., December 19, 9:00 a.m.
Chapter 39 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 19, 6:00 a.m.
Chapter 40 San Diego, CA, December 19, 11:30 a.m.
Chapter 41 The White House, December 19, 2:00 p.m.
Chapter 42 San Diego, CA, December 19, 2:00 p.m.
Chapter 43 Mexico—-U.S. Border Crossing, CA, December 19, 3:30 p.m.
Chapter 44 Mexico–U.S. Border Crossing, CA, December 19, 3:32 p.m.
Chapter 45 Tijuana, MX, December 19, 4:00 p.m.
Chapter 46 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 19, 5:00 p.m.
Chapter 47 Rosarito Beach MX, December 19, 8:00 p.m.
Chapter 48 Ensenada, MX, December 19, 10:00 p.m.
Part V
Chapter 49 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 20, 3:00 a.m.
Chapter 50 Ensenada, MX, December 20, 3:30 a.m.
Chapter 51 The White House, December 20, 6:30 a.m.
Chapter 52 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 20, 7:00 a.m.
Chapter 53 Rosarito Beach, MX, December 20, 8:00 a.m.
Chapter 54 The White House, December 20, 12:00 p.m.
Chapter 55 Helicopter over Baja, MX, December 20, 1:00 p.m.
Chapter 56 Middle of Nowhere, Baja, MX, December 20, 4:00 p.m.
Chapter 57 The White House, December 20, 9:00 p.m.
Chapter 58 Middle of Nowhere, Baja, MX, December 20, 7:00 p.m.
Chapter 59 The White House, December 20, 10:30 p.m.
Chapter 60 Middle of Nowhere, Baja, MX, December 21, 12:00 p.m.
Chapter 61 The White House, January 21, 8:00 a.m.
Epilogue
Los Angeles Convention Center: August 5, 8 p.m.
To my beloved husband, and to all who share my belief that it’s time to restore the val
ues of freedom, decency, and tolerance in America.
“America is great because she is good. If America ceases to be good, America will cease to be great.”
— Alexis de Tocqueville
Prologue
The White House
December 15, 11:31 p.m.
“Mr. Speaker; Mr. Vice President; my good friends in Congress; beautiful First Lady of the United States; and my fabulous fellow Americans…”
Natalia could hear her husband’s first State of the Union Address blasting from the TV inside his bedroom. President Rex Funck had delivered the speech nearly three years ago, but he could never get enough of it. She knew that watching it tonight was especially important for the success of his latest scheme. She tightened the belt on her white-silk Prada bathrobe, fighting the urge to turn and flee. But as FLOTUS, she was expected to be an essential part of it.
Pricker, a hulking Secret Service special agent, held out a box of sanitary gloves. She plucked out two and pulled them on, checking to see that the 15-karat diamond on her ring didn’t poke a hole in the latex. He touched the coiled-plastic tubing on his radio earpiece and said, “Trophy is ready, Mr. President.” He opened the door and she walked in.
“Thank you for making me your leader in the biggest, huuuugest landslide of any Presidential election in American history…”
Natalia was always startled by the glittering crystal chandeliers and gilded antique furniture in her husband’s bedroom, as extravagant as those she once saw in the Palace of Versailles. Engrossed in his speech, Rex was slumped on a high-backed, gold-trimmed red armchair as imposing as a throne. Years ago, when they had started dating, he told her he had a recurring dream that he was the reincarnation of Louis XIV, France’s Sun King. Tonight, wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe and eating a Big Mac, his eyes glued to his image on the 88-inch-wide TV screen, Rex looks more like a deranged, pot-bellied pasha than a king, she thought.
“Now the work begins. We face terrible, tremendous trials that I’ve got to say I warned you about, and dangers that even I never could have imagined…”
Gretchen Funck sat barefoot at Rex’s feet, her skintight white Armani sheath hiked up above her knees, her black Louboutin stiletto heels lying topsy-turvy on the carpet, their red soles lolling like dog’s tongues. She seemed as rapt in her father’s speech as he was.
“Each day, from now on, we will march forward with a tough vision and a righteous task: to make this country fantastic again for each and every—but you better believe 100 percent legitimate—American—”
“Alllllright!” Rex toasted his TV image with a Diet Coke. “Is this guy a god or what?” He polished off his burger and handed the grease-stained wrapper to Gretchen.
She took it with a latex-gloved hand. “Yes, Daddy!”
Even the First Daughter now wears sanitary gloves in his presence, Natalia thought. She wondered how long it would take for his germ phobia to get so bad it killed him, or at least affected his ratings. She walked toward them.
“FLOTUS is here,” Gretchen said with an edge in her voice. Natalia knew it was to remind her that she was the real First Lady in POTUS’s eyes. Gretchen wiggled into her stilettos. “G’night, Daddy,” she called on her way out of the bedroom.
“Yes, this is the most amazing time in the history of mankind for us—and by ‘us’ I mean only legally-within-our-borders citizens—to live the American dream…”
Without looking up from the TV, Rex motioned to Natalia. “Get your pussy over here!”
She stiffened. He had never used vulgar words with her before he was President. He had treated her with respect and he had admired her with intent, loving eyes. Now he spoke to her as coarsely as he did to his political opponents and he rarely glanced at her. My husband has become such a hlupák, she thought, using the word for “asshole” from her native Slovakia.
“It’s going to happen, starting right now! I’ve told you what’s important: being smart and strong and following me and the tremendous minds I have assembled to help me lead…”
She kneeled at Rex’s feet, slid a rosewood box from under his chair, and opened it. Inside were dozens of “penis sleeves” and “penis extenders,” silicone devices designed to add length and/or rigidity to a man’s vták, the Slovak word that Natalia preferred using for “penis.”
“I want every toddler, every tyke, and every teenager to be safe in their households at night…”
“What’s your pleasure, Rex?”
“I want every man to keep what he earns from a hard day’s labor; women too of course…”
“Whatever’s biggest,” he said, riveted by his image on the TV screen.
“And don’t believe the stupid fake news you hear about global warming. Every U.S. citizen should be proud of this pure, unpolluted, and perfect land that we cherish…”
She selected the silicone sleeve that was the smallest and hastily attached it to his vták. In the unlikely event Rex took his eyes off the TV, she didn’t want him to see that it was the perfect fit. She knew he would scream, “It’s a fake measurement! Fake!”
“As long as Americans believe in smart but tough values, in God, and in me as your leader, we will not be losers…”
Natalia stood up and untied her bathrobe. As it fell to the floor, the flutter of silk caught his attention. He gazed at her body. “Why do wives have to get old?”
Pretending she didn’t hear that—she was eager to get tonight over with—she sat down on his lap, facing him. She delicately wedged his silicone-enhanced vták inside her.
“You’re in the fucking way!” He shoved her head to the left so that he could see the TV screen.
“My government will not tolerate morons. Our people must thrive. Our people must be safe. Our people must trust in me. I’m tremendously smart—we’re talking ‘genius’—and our people can count on me to save their you-know-whats…”
Natalia could feel Rex’s vták growing firmer. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t be staring at his dyed-orange comb-over.
“With me as your President, our nation will be secure and strong and proud and mighty and free and amazing…”
Rex started to thrust, grunting.
Natalia’s last thought before she turned off her mind: The only way the President of the United States can get it up is facing a mega-TV screen filled with his own image.
“Thank you, and God bless America!”
Part I
Two Weeks Earlier
Chapter 1
New York City
December 1, 2:00 p.m.
Natalia peered out of the smoked bulletproof window of the black Escalade as it crept through snow-day traffic on Madison Avenue. The SUV stopped at a red light on Fifty-Ninth street. She glanced at the holiday decorations in a window of Barney’s. Four white plastic robots in sequined party dresses formed an awkward chorus line, their sleek white plastic legs thrusting into the air, their shiny white plastic heads wagging from side to side. Their faces lacked eyes, ears, and noses. The only indication that the robots were feminine was their exaggeratedly plumped red lips, each pursed in a pout. Natalia touched her own Juvederm-swollen lips and realized that they were tightly pressed together, like theirs. Nothing to smile about, she thought. Like the plastic robots, I’m just going through the motions. She hoped that her visit today in New York would motivate her to get off her Slovak zadok.
The light turned green and the SUV continued up Madison Avenue, past Celine, Givenchy, and Valentino. She sighed wistfully. Before she became the First Lady, she could pop into any one of these designer boutiques without causing pandemonium among the hedge-fund wives and brand-crazy Chinese shoppers who worshipped there. The female store managers welcomed her with double air kisses. The gay male store managers kissed her hand, admiring the 15-karat emerald-cut diamond engagement ring that hugged her diamond wedding band.
Fourteen years ago, the opulent De Beers diamond ring hadn’t been a surprise. Rex didn’t like surprises, but he loved pub
licity. So before giving her the engagement ring, he flashed it to the press. “It’s worth $3 million,” he bragged. “But I got a great deal! Just like I got a great deal on Natalia!” Everyone knew that he was referring to the ironclad prenup that she was forced to sign before their wedding.
Natalia glanced down at the diamond. It glinted in the light from the backseat TV screen that was tuned to The Ellen DeGeneres Show, the sound muted. She stroked the stone with her index finger, imagining that she was rubbing a magic lantern and a genie would pop out. She pictured the genie looking like Ellen: boyish, perky, eager to grant her every wish. She only had one: to disappear from the White House and from President Rex Funck’s life. She would happily give the genie her ring if her wish were granted.
Not that Ellen needs a 15-karat diamond ring, she thought. And not that I can get it off my finger. She twisted the platinum band, but it was too tight. She couldn’t work the engagement ring or the wedding band up over her swollen knuckle. It was as if she were shackled to the multi-million-dollar rings, like she was shackled to Rex Funck.
Natalia shuddered, remembering the morning a few weeks ago when Rex had summoned Dr. Abraham Steinberg, Ob-Gyn, to the White House. “He’s a Jew,” Rex said, as if that added to his reputation as America’s leading fertility expert. “When it comes to medicine and money, Jews work miracles.” She had no choice but to meet with the aged, hunched-over doctor. She knew that President Rex Funck only heard the word “no” when it came out of his own mouth.
The White House butlers had wheeled an examining table, complete with stirrups, into her bedroom. Without saying a word, the doctor examined her inside and out and then signaled for her to turn onto her side. “You have a mole on your right buttock,” he muttered as he positioned himself behind her. “Very odd, but it is heart-shaped, like on a Valentine’s Day card.” He recommended that it be surgically removed.
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