Trouble in the White House:
A Black President Novel
Brenda Hampton
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
President of the United States,
President’s Mother,
First Lady,
President’s Mother,
President of the United States,
President’s Mother,
First Lady,
President of the United States,
President of the United States,
First Lady,
President’s Mother,
President of the United States,
President’s Mother,
First Lady,
President of the United States,
President of the United States,
President of the United States,
President of the United States,
First Lady,
President’s Mother,
President of the United States,
First Lady,
President of the United States,
First Lady,
President of the United States,
President’s Mother,
President of the United States,
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Trouble in the White House: A Black President Novel
Copyright © 2017 Brenda Hampton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6228-6580-2
First Trade Paperback Printing October 2017
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Submit orders to:
Customer Service
400 Hahn Road
Westminster, MD 21157-4627
Phone: 1-800-733-3000
Fax: 1-800-659-2436
President of the United States,
Stephen C. Jefferson
With the exception of those who worked closely with me, along with past presidents, no one knew just how strenuous being the commander in chief really was. But you can be sure that many people—Republicans, Democrats, Independents, world leaders . . . even Blacks—had something to say about how I needed to do my job and how they preferred I conduct myself in this position. The truth was that no one’s opinion really mattered, simply because no one other than me was tasked with sitting behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office and dealing with what I was faced with on a daily basis. I had to acknowledge some of the perks that came along with the job, and a four-hundred-thousand-dollar-plus salary wasn’t so bad. But some people . . . I just didn’t get them. Some couldn’t even run their own damn households, and even politicians had the audacity to gripe on social networking sites or run to the media and blab about what I needed to do. Many of them were totally responsible for the mess we were in. I could only shake my head and laugh at some of the madness I’d heard.
On a serious note, all that was transpiring in our country was no laughing matter. The middle class was vanishing. Taxes were too high, as was the cost of higher education. Poverty was at an all-time high, and so many of our children were suffering. Throw domestic terrorism into the mix, and the fact that hate crimes were on the rise, and this was a disaster. I experienced major headaches during my morning briefings. The classified information about known planned attacks against the United States was unbelievable. My number one job and highest priority was to keep our country safe. My biggest fear, however, was failing to do so. I trusted my team—there was no doubt that we had one of the most experienced intelligence agencies in the world. Still, I’d be foolish to believe that many terrorist organizations didn’t have knowledgeable individuals working for them. Since I knew this was so, my fears wouldn’t subside.
Doing the norm, I was up late on this day. Vice President Bass was in the Oval Office with me, pondering how she should deal with the Republican Party going forward. Many were upset with her for standing with me to pass gun control legislation. She had been dissed and called every name in the book for assisting me. And while she suspected that some would turn against her, she had never expected for things to be this bad.
“They fucking hate me,” she said, pacing back and forth. “Everywhere I go, people are shouting at me, calling me names, even throwing things at me. I don’t know what to do, but I can promise you this.” Holding a glass of alcohol tight in her hand, she paused to look at me as I sat on the sofa. Her eyes were watering, her chubby cheeks were red, and her hair was disheveled. “I won’t be going to Capitol Hill anytime soon to help you push your agenda forward. Members of the House Republican Conference are catching hell over that vote, and I’m not sure if we did the right thing.”
The political environment was, simply put, fucked up. The truth was, there weren’t many congressmen or congresswomen here to do what they were voted in to do. Winning elections was more about power, perks, and the almighty dollar. I guess with Congress having an 8 percent approval rating, many Americans understood what it was about too. In my position, I had to stay hopeful. I had to make VP Bass understand how much I needed her, especially going forward.
“Listen,” I said, trying to gather my thoughts as I stood and walked up to her. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to her; I could see she was on the brink of losing it. “We all did the right thing for this country. You may not realize it now, but eventually, you’ll see the impact of passing that law. As for me, I don’t have an agenda. The American people do, and they’re counting on us to cease some of the madness that is going on. We must work together to make the lives of others much better. If we can’t do that, then there is no purpose in us being here.”
VP Bass shut her eyes, causing a slow tear to run down her face. She stepped away from me and walked closer to the sofa. Her finger tapped against the glass in her hand, and before taking a seat, she tossed back another swig of the alcohol.
“If you’re the president, take ownership, because it is considered your agenda. I already know what you’re pursuing next, and I must confess that I am not on board with doing anything that has to do with assisting only one race in this country. I get that African Americans feel let down, left behind, screwed over . . . whatever. But we won’t and can’t continue to create legislation that revolves around handouts. Too many taxpayers are already on the hook as it is, and my party will not stand for it. Implementing more and more programs will only put this country further in debt, so the question is, Mr. President, when are we going to start digging ourselves out of the ditch?”
There was a tiny button inside of me that could always be pushed. Unfortunately for VP Bass, she’d touched it. I moved closer and stood over her just so she could get a glimpse of my stern gaze.
“I made a mistake in believing that you had some courage, but apparently, you don’t. Thought you were a brave woman, but your words tell me you’re a coward. When things get a little rough, you proved to me that a bottle of alcohol becomes your best friend, and it can cause you to spew stupid shit that doesn’t make sense. I could go on and on about what most black people in this country really want, but unfortunately, your ignorance will not allow you to comprehend. Therefore, to answer the question you posed to me earlier about what
you should do, here is my suggestion. Dig your ass off that sofa and go resign. If I can’t use you, I don’t need you.”
Apparently offended, she shot up from her seat like a rocket. Her face was scrunched up; a whiff of her alcoholic breath attacked me.
“Mr. President, I suspected that this little love affair between us wouldn’t last long, and several weeks after you used me to get what you wanted, here we are. You will need me again, so you’d better think long and hard about how you intend to approach me going forward. I won’t subject myself to your continuous disrespect, nor will I follow your lead on legislation that isn’t beneficial to all Americans. Like it or leave it, asshole. It’s as simple as that.”
I shrugged; she could definitely come better than that. “First of all, don’t insult me. I would never have a love affair with a woman of your caliber. Sorry, but you’re not my type. And you’re the one who’d better think long and extremely hard about how you approach me. You will need me, especially after the GOP gets finished dragging you through the mud, hanging you out to dry. Now I’m done with this conversation. And before I say anything else, I ask that you leave now or leave later with regrets.”
The one thing VP Bass knew was not to challenge me. She stomped toward the door, bumping into Raynetta, who was on her way in.
“You must be out of your freaking mind, staying married to a jerk like him. What a waste of a beautiful woman. I applaud you, my dear. May God bless you,” VP Bass said.
Raynetta’s eyes grew wide. She had a smirk on her face as well. Obviously, she didn’t trip off the VP’s name-calling as much as I did. All she did was shut the door behind VP Bass, and then she headed toward me.
“I guess you pissed her off pretty good, huh?”
“Real good. But she pissed me off too.”
“What a shame. I figured something was going on, especially since you haven’t made your way upstairs to the bedroom yet. I got kind of lonely up there, and you promised me earlier that you would find a little time in your schedule to, uh, play with me tonight.”
I nodded and snapped my fingers. “I did promise, but by now, you do know how things go around here, don’t you?”
Raynetta sat on top of the desk and crossed one leg over the other. I was still standing by the sofa; my eyes scanned her pretty, smooth legs, which peeked through the pink silk robe she wore. We had been indulging in sex like there was no tomorrow. It felt good to know that at least my marriage was back on track.
“I do know how it is, sweetheart. That’s why I came down here to relieve you from the daily stress. It’s written all over your face, but if I have my way, that frown can easily turn into a smile.”
Raynetta untied the belt at her waist and dropped it on the floor. She rubbed the tips of her fingers between her cleavage and then opened the robe just a little to allow her firm breasts to peek through. Giving me a clear view of something even more enticing, she opened her legs wide. As my eyes focused in, she spoke with seduction in her voice.
“I’m not sure if there has ever been this much action on this desk or inside the Oval Office, but I can’t resist these spontaneous opportunities. And since you had your way the last time in this office, I figured it was my time next.”
I strutted over to where Raynetta was, displaying a smile that was a result of what I had just witnessed between her thighs. Once my arms were secure around her waist, I searched her sparkling eyes, which exemplified how happy my wife was. All of this felt good. It saddened me to think I had almost given up hope that we could ever feel this way about each other again.
“Indisputably confirmed by what I do know to be facts,” I said. “There have been numerous heated moments in this office. But, with that being said, there has never been the kind of action in here that only you and I can create. It is time for you to have your way. So please, Mrs. Jefferson, do as you wish.”
Raynetta took her time unbuttoning my white shirt, then peeling it away from my chest. She then removed my leather belt and tossed it to the side. She lowered the zipper over the sizable hump rising in my slacks, and after dropping to her knees, she had her way with me. The feel of her warm, deep throat made my legs weaken, my toes curl, and my eyes shut tight. I was locked in a trance. My breathing became heavy, and before I knew it, I had to reach for the desk to help me maintain my balance.
I struggled to speak. “If . . . if this is what giving you your way means, I . . . I must surrender to you more often.”
Raynetta backed away from my goods and looked up at me for a few seconds before responding.
“Yes, you should surrender to me more often, because for as long as I can remember, allowing me to take charge never hurt you one bit.”
She resumed. So did I, and I was soon in deep thought about how skilled Raynetta really was. In the bedroom, in addition to outside of it.
President’s Mother,
Teresa Jefferson
It had been three long weeks since I left the little White House to go see my grandson in St. Louis. I was having the time of my life. Ina, my real daughter-in-law, was so sweet, and like always, she made me feel as if I was right at home. That was, of course, after I had to clean up the whole house and disinfect it. Her ass was downright lazy, but every woman was entitled to have a flaw, maybe two. Two was my limit. I guess I couldn’t hold her laziness against her, but when it came to my son, I most certainly would. He was better off without her being his wife. Friend, fuck buddy, side ho . . . that was fine.
As for my grandson, every time I saw him, he had got even more handsome and taller. He played basketball at one of the most prestigious high schools in St. Louis, where he maintained a 4.0 GPA. He was smart as a whip, just like Stephen was, but Joshua also had a wild and sneaky side to him. He had no idea that his father was president of the United States. Years ago, Ina had told Joshua that his father, my son, was in jail for murder. I hated to lie, but for now, it had to be this way. Soon, though, things would change. I was prepared to come clean, and whatever happened, so be it. Of course, Stephen would be upset with me for keeping this secret, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been upset with me. He would get over it, and like always, he would call to apologize, just as he’d done a few days ago for speaking ill to me. I’d forgiven him and told him we would chat when I returned to Washington. He’d inquired about where I was, but I’d reminded him that he was my son, and I was his mother. Where I was and who I was with were none of his business. He’d agreed.
My bags were packed; I was ready to head back to Washington. Joshua and Ina hated to see me go. They both walked me to my car, with sad looks on their faces.
“When will you be coming back?” Joshua asked, with a basketball tucked underneath his arm. “You keep saying that I can come visit you, and as a reminder, school will be out in less than a month.”
I rubbed his wavy hair, with a smile on my face. “I know, baby, and you can come visit me as soon as I get finished renovating. Meanwhile, think of another place you would like to go on your summer vacation. Maybe we can go on a trip to Paris. Or what about Dubai? You mentioned something about going there before, didn’t you?”
“I did, but some of my friends who have been there before said it’s boring. They also complained about the air quality, but Paris sounds nice.”
“Okay. Let’s put that on our to-do list and go from there. Meanwhile, keep those grades up, and stop spending so much time on that Internet. That cell phone is attached to your hand. I don’t know how in the world you get anything done. Do you even part with it while you’re doing your homework?”
Joshua laughed. Ina shook her head.
“I tell him that all the time,” Ina said, rolling her eyes. “He sleeps with that thing right next to him. I can only wonder how he’s able to keep up his grades, especially when he’s on that phone twenty-four-seven.”
“I’m bright like that, and it’s called multitasking,” Joshua said with a wide smile. “It’s also a kid thing, and you two beautiful ladies w
ould never understand.”
I pursed my lips. “Save all that sweet talk for those little chicken-headed girls you’ve been talking to. And be sure to keep your penis in your pants, because we—”
“Yes, I know, Grandma. Trust me, I already know.”
I looked at Ina, just to confirm that she had been doing her duties as a mother and had already discussed the birds and the bees, as well as the corn-bread and sweet-potato thighs, with her son.
“He’s good, so don’t worry,” she said. “Now, you’d better get on the road before it gets too late. And don’t forget to call me as soon as you get home.”
I gave both of them hugs, told them I loved them, and with worry in my eyes, I watched Joshua go back inside. I worried about him a lot. Not having a father figure wasn’t a good thing, and Ina didn’t seem to have much time for him. Maybe it was just me. I complained about everything.
“I’ll be in touch about his trip to Paris,” I said. “And if I can’t make it, perhaps he can go with some of his friends.”
“I’m sure he would like that, but I hope you can make it too. He’s been talking about traveling to more places, and a trip to Paris will do him good. I thank you so much for continuing to look out for us. Your generosity will never be forgotten.”
“No problem at all. Just . . . just do me a favor and keep your eyes on him. Also, keep your house a little cleaner. I paid too much money for it, and you know they say that a woman who doesn’t keep her house clean doesn’t keep her ass clean, either. A pretty woman like you wouldn’t want that kind of reputation, would you?”
Ina swallowed hard; she was used to how blunt I could be.
“I assure you that I keep myself very clean. It’s just that I have a lot on my plate with Joshua and with my new business venture. While I appreciate all that you’ve done for us, I do need to figure out a way to increase my income.”
Trouble in the White House Page 1