Trouble in the White House

by Brenda Hampton

  It was time to let the chips fall where they may, and after I gave Claire a piece of my mind for spreading my business, I intended to go to Stephen and tell him my secrets. That included what I knew about his son. If Joshua brought Stephen and Ina closer together, what could I do? I had faith, though, that the news about Joshua wouldn’t affect our marriage at all. More importantly, I held on to the love that I knew for a fact he had for me too.

  Claire was a few minutes late. She rushed through the door to my office, apologizing for her tardiness.

  “I’m sorry for being late,” she said, almost out of breath. “But it’s a madhouse out there. Since yesterday, I don’t know how much you’ve heard from the president, but he has everyone around here, like, going crazy. He got the DOJ involved in that situation with those officers, and they were fired immediately. The chief of police was fired too, and the police union is livid. They view it as a war against them, and many cops are speaking up on every media outlet about the president intervening.”

  She paused to catch her breath. “So are other people, especially African Americans, who are damn happy about it. From out of nowhere, more video footage is being released, and the networks are flooding every channel with videos of officers throughout the country doing horribly bad things. Everyone is predicting that the president is behind the release of those videos, because he wants the American people to see what is really going on. I must say that I’m surprised. I didn’t know it was that bad, and even though there are many good cops, those videos paint a very ugly picture. There are a lot of bad cops too.”

  “We’ve been saying that for a long time, and if Stephen is doing something to wake people up, good for all of us,” I said. “I’m proud of him, but this makes me very nervous. I don’t have to tell you why.”

  Claire nodded. “I know. Plenty of threats are being made against him, and the Secret Service is all over the place.”

  I was worried. Didn’t even want to discuss this anymore, so I changed the subject. “Is there anything else that I should know before we get started on my schedule for next week?”

  Claire plopped down in the chair in front of me. “Yes. One more thing. Your anniversary is next week, but just so you know, the president won’t be here. He has to meet with world leaders at the UN, and he’s going to the funerals of the students killed in the gymnasium. He’s also meeting with the preacher’s wife, and he recently agreed to attend a conference next week with the founders of the Black Lives Matter movement. I haven’t even included the Millennials Summit, and that he’s planning a surprise visit to the troops in Iraq. Even though many of them have moved on to other missions, he still thinks it’s important to support the ones who have been deployed there for many years.”

  Finally, Claire took a deep breath and waited for me to respond.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were working for the president, instead of for me. How is it that you know so much about what Stephen is doing? And please tell me who is sharing so much information with you.”

  Claire hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. “I don’t want to get him into any trouble, but Andrew and I have to work closely together to examine what goes on with your and the president’s schedules. You already know that we have to make sure there are no conflicts, and we also talk about numerous things that go on around here. I don’t tell him everything, and he doesn’t share everything with me. I try to share with you the information that he relays to me, especially if I believe it may be helpful.”

  “I get that, but did you just happen to tell him about what we discussed the other day? If so, that was none of his business. You know he’s going to share information like that with Stephen.”

  Claire moved her head from side to side. “No, I didn’t tell him anything about our conversation. I would never share anything like that with him, and I have set limitations on what I speak to him about. Personal things like that are never discussed.”

  “Well, you told someone, and they told my mother-in-law. I want you to tell me who else you’ve spoken to, because I need to put an end to that person feeding Teresa information about me. Not to mention what I need to do about you.”

  Fear rose in Claire’s eyes. I was sure that she meant no harm, but the gossiping needed to stop. As she gathered her thoughts, I waited.

  “The . . . the only person I probably mentioned it to is Holly. She works in the kitchen, and we kind of whisper back and forth about some of the things that go on around here. While we were having lunch the other day, I mentioned what you told me. I didn’t think that she would say anything to anyone. I trusted her because we’ve known each other for almost five years.” Claire spoke with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I know you didn’t, but please do not share anything else that I tell you with anyone. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, because the truth is, no one around here can be trusted. I’m not sure how I’m going to handle Holly, but whenever you see her, please let her know that I do not approve of her actions. I’m done talking about this. Let’s move on, because I need to get to my luncheon.”

  “Okay. Thank you for understanding. Let me go get your schedule. I’ll be right back.”

  Claire left the room, and even though I was still a little upset with her, all I could concentrate on was telling Stephen about my fuckups.

  * * *

  It was almost three o’clock when I returned to the White House. I had been at a luncheon where I met many military wives. It had turned out to be a fabulous event. Being there had taken my mind off of things for a while, but the second I stepped into the White House, a horrible feeling came over me. Alex, one of my Secret Service agents, rushed up to me and asked me to follow him. I responded with an attitude.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to go upstairs, bathe, and then spend some time with my husband. Where do you—”

  “This way,” he said, directing me down the corridor leading to the East Room. He stopped right at the door to the East Room.

  “The president wants to see you inside,” he informed me.

  Immediately, my heart fell to my stomach. Apparently, Teresa had gotten to Stephen before I did. I almost didn’t want to face him. Knowing that I had to, I released a deep breath and put my big girl panties on. I could very well explain all of this, and like I said before, I was prepared to let the chips fall where they may. With that in mind, I opened the tall cherrywood door to the same room where the gala had been held the other night.

  This time, however, the room did not feature numerous tables and chairs. No music was playing, and no people were dancing. The gold curtains covering the windows were closed. The Steinway grand piano sat close to the wall, a portrait of Washington behind it. The chandeliers hanging above were all dim, as were the wall sconces, which were shaped like candles. The lighting set a certain mood. In the center of the room was one round table, draped with a white tablecloth. A vase with several red roses stood on top of it, and to the left, the fireplace had a blazing fire. With his shirt off, slacks on, Stephen stood at the far end of the room, near a window. One of his hands was in his pocket as he leaned against the wall. Handsome wasn’t the word to describe him—he was so much more than that. I wanted to rush into his arms, but I waited. Waited to see what this was all about. When he headed my way, I proceeded to move forward as well.

  “Glad you finally made it back,” he said, strutting with so much sexiness that I wanted to fall to my knees. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Finally, we stood face-to-face in the dimly lit room.

  “If I had known you were waiting for me, I would have come sooner,” I replied.

  He eased his arms around my waist and pulled me closer, leaving no breathing room in between us. His smell, the feel of his package pressing against me, and his strong arms lured me in.

  “I have a full plate next week, so I won’t be around for our anniversary. I thought we could have a little dinne
r, make a lot of love, and celebrate this wonderful life we have together.”

  Lord knows I wanted to cry. I hated myself right now, only because I would have to put off what I wanted to tell Stephen for another day, possibly another week. There was no way I was going to spoil the mood, no way in hell, especially when he inched me back to the table, lifted me up on it, and started to plant sensual kisses against my neck.

  “Say something,” he whispered between his pecks. “Anything to let me know if you prefer dinner or me first.”

  “You,” I rushed to say. “Without a doubt, you first.” I dropped my purse on the floor, happily hiked up my skirt, then wrapped my legs around him while leaning back on the table. He leaned over me, kissing my lips and touching me in all the right places.

  “Somehow, I knew you would say that.”

  Stephen unlatched his belt, then dropped his slacks to the floor. His long muscle stretched far in my direction. With my skirt already up and my legs wide open, he stretched the crotch section of my wet panties and pulled it to the side, then drove his thick meat right in. He was parked there for a few seconds, but just as he started to shift inside of me, and our kisses became more and more intense, there was a loud knock at the door. The knock echoed loudly in the almost empty room. We couldn’t ignore it.

  “Damn,” Stephen said with furrowed brows. His frustrations showed as he eased his goodness out of me, releasing my juices, which had already started to rain on him. I was pretty pissed too, and I watched as he hurried into his slacks, then walked fast to see who was at the door. I removed myself from the table and lowered my skirt over my hips. Stephen yanked the door open, and on the other side stood Andrew.

  “What is it?” Stephen said, sounding irritated.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to speak to you about something very important.”

  “It can’t wait? Please tell me it can wait thirty or forty more minutes, so I can spend just a little more time with my wife.”

  “In my opinion, it can’t wait. Not even five minutes. I think this is something you should know right away.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach again. Maybe Andrew was planning to tell Stephen about what I’d said to Claire. I had to find out if that was what it was, and if it wasn’t that, what else was so important. I hurried toward the door, hoping for answers.

  “Wha . . . what’s so important, Andrew?” I asked. “We were kind of in the middle of something. Is it possible for us to have just a little peace for one day?”

  “Yes, it is, and I’m truly sorry about this. But it is imperative that I speak to the President. If he wants you to know what it pertains to, I’m sure he will tell you.”

  Stephen shook his head, then turned to me. “Stay here. I’ll ask Joe to go ahead and serve you dinner, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Your anniversary present is underneath the table. I don’t want you to open it, but if you must, I understand.”

  I reached for his hand, starting to panic. “D-don’t go right now. I want to share some things with you too, and I had hoped to do so tonight.”

  Andrew spoke up again. “Now, Mr. President, it involves safety concerns pertaining to the American people. We need to act soon.”

  Well, since he mentioned that this was about the American people, it obviously didn’t have much to do with me.

  “Go,” I said to Stephen. “But hurry back, please. I’ll be waiting right here.”

  Without saying another word, Stephen and Andrew left. I shut the door, tearfully hoping and praying that when Stephen returned, everything would be okay.

  President of the United States,

  Stephen C. Jefferson

  The second Andrew and I entered the Oval Office, I hurried to close the door behind us.

  “This better be good,” I said, still on edge about being interrupted.

  “Actually, it’s pretty bad, and it’s not exactly about safety concerns. I think you may want to have a seat. If not, I need to.”

  Andrew removed an envelope from his suit jacket, and then he took a seat on the sofa. I sat on the other sofa, and with my shirt still off, I leaned back and put my hands behind my head.

  “Nothing surprises me in this position anymore,” I said, ready for whatever. “I’m already preparing myself for what may come.”

  “I think even this is going to surprise you, and even though the director of National Intelligence wanted to speak to you about it, I told Rick to let me speak to you first. As you know, our intelligence agency, along with the FBI, has been focusing more and more on individuals in our homeland who are becoming radicalized by terrorist organizations around the world. There are many programs designed to catch these people in the act, and you already know that through cell phone data spying, the NSA is privy to a substantial amount of information. Through domestic surveillance, well, we can tap into anything.”

  He went on. “Many of the individuals we are focusing on are, surprisingly, young people. Some are not as serious as others, but we are well aware of the ones who are readying themselves to cause major damage to the United States. Those people are being closely watched, and through surveillance, this is what the agency discovered.”

  Andrew reached out and handed me the envelope. I pulled the flap back, then extracted several photos. The first photo featured my mother, Ina, and a young man standing by my mother’s car. For the first time in a long time, I was confused.

  “I don’t know what this—”

  “Your mother visited St. Louis several weeks ago. Those pictures were taken because the agency has been watching a fourteen-year-old, tech-savvy teenager who lives in that house. Surveillance has also been on several of his highly skilled and very educated classmates. We have many reasons to believe that all of them became radicalized. They’d been planning something big, but a few hours ago things took a drastic turn. One of the bombs they put together exploded, killing three of the teenagers, badly injuring one of them. There are young people all over our country being led in the wrong direction and getting involved in messes like this.

  “I had to bring this case in particular to your immediate attention because your mother . . . There is a connection with the people who live in that house. The woman in the picture, Ina, was here the other night. Her past relationship with you is well known.” Andrew shifted in his seat before hitting me with the next part of his statement. “The agency also believes that the fourteen-year-old teenager who was killed earlier was, indeed, your son.”

  A jolt went through my body, causing me to sit up straight. It also felt as if someone had punched me in the gut, so I leaned forward, tightened my stomach, as if another blow was coming. A lump had risen in my throat; I swallowed it so I could speak. This had to be a bad joke, and the one word that came to mind was . . . bullshit.

  “C–come again. What did you just say? My son? Radicalized? Dead? I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but, muthafucka, I don’t have a son. If this is an attempt to distract me and—” I stopped speaking suddenly and tried to wrap this shit around my head. Slowly but surely, the pieces started to come together.

  Andrew continued. “I . . . we do believe that Joshua Chatman was your son. His birth certificate has your first and middle name on it, with a made-up last name. Apparently, your mother has known about Joshua for quite some time. Her name is on the property deed to the house Ms. Chatman lives in, as well as on her cars. There seems to be several conversations—”

  Numb all over and in a complete daze, I lifted my hand. “Please, say no more. Leave me, Andrew. Please leave me and pray hard for me tonight. Do not speak about this to anyone, and tell Rick that I want to speak to him before eight o’clock in the morning.”

  Andrew slowly stood, looking at me as I sat there, distraught. “I will pray for all of us. I’m sorry about your son, and let me know if I can assist you further in any way. I’ll be in my office.”

  I stared straight ahead, thinking, thinking, thinking. Now it all made sense. Years
ago, Ina had been pregnant. My mother had intervened, and now my son was dead? I couldn’t wish what I felt inside on my worst enemy, and as I started to look at all the photos in my hand, I just wanted to hurt somebody. Bad. Joshua looked so much like me. I was in pain—for him and for me. Tears welled in my eyes; I closed them tight to bring about darkness. I stayed there for a while, thinking some more. And the more I thought about everything, the more my heart raced. A sheen of sweat formed on my forehead; the thick wrinkles there deepened. I crumbled the photos in my hand, and when I opened my eyes, I ripped the photos to shreds. The only person on my mind was my goddamned mother.

  I rushed out of the Oval Office and stormed down the West Colonnade to make my way to the Executive Residence. Then I ran up the Grand Staircase to the second floor. Levi and another agent followed after me, but I was moving so fast that I left them in the dust. When I reached the Queens’ Bedroom, I damn sure didn’t bother to knock. I could hear music coming from inside the room, and when I turned the knob, the door opened. Inside were my mother and Frank, looking like two deer in headlights, caught in action. They both were naked, and Frank was handcuffed to the bedpost, while my mother had a black whip in her hand. Funky music played in the background and made me even more disgusted.

  “What in the hell is going on?” my mother shouted, rushing to cover herself with a sheet. With one hand loose, Frank eased the sheet toward him, attempting to cover himself too. Shame covered his face as he pointed to the key on the bed and told her to uncuff him.

  I walked farther into the room, displaying much rage, until I stood by the bed. “You have to ask what is going on? Don’t you already know? You know everything, Mama, and to keep my son away from me was pretty damn low.”

  She shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal. “I see that Raynetta decided to finally spill the beans. Her big mouth doesn’t surprise me one bit.” She used the key to uncuff Frank, and in a matter of seconds, he wrapped himself with the sheet, then jetted past Levi and another agent, who stood outside the door with stunned expressions on their faces. I tried to process what my mother had just said about Raynetta. She knows about this too?