Black President

by Brenda Hampton

  “Mr. President, we should be ready in five, no more than ten minutes,” the cameraman said. “I’ll give a two-minute warning, and then a countdown.”

  After we took our seats, Ms. Hamilton joined us. She crossed her legs, and while sitting with excellent posture, she studied a few notes. Stephen leaned in close to me, but his very narrow eyes were zoned in Ms. Hamilton’s direction. He was slightly slumped in the chair, with his index finger resting along the side of his face. My eyes traveled to his crotch area where I noticed an enlarged muscle that wasn’t there before. I mean, what in the hell was he thinking about? I was so sure that the other individuals in the room witnessed the hungry look in his eyes, and when I glanced at my assistant, she almost looked speechless.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Hamilton,” I said, getting her attention. “Can you tell me how long you anticipate this interview will be?”

  My question snapped Stephen out of his trance. He sat up straight, then crossed one of his legs over the other.

  “Chanel,” she said. “Please call me Chanel, especially during the interview. It will probably last for about forty-five minutes or so, depending on the length of your responses. There will be no commercial interruptions, and we’re going to roll this straight through.”

  I looked at Stephen. His eyes were fixed on her lips as she spoke. “Keep your comments brief and to the point,” I said to him. “The faster we wrap this up, the better.”

  “I agree,” he said, then sat up straight and tugged at his jacket.

  The cameraman gave the two-minute warning, and shortly thereafter, he lifted his fingers, counting down from five. The numbers also appeared on the screen in front of us, and when zero flashed, the screen was replaced with Chanel’s beautiful face.

  “Good evening,” she said, presenting a pleasant smile as she looked directly at the camera. “Thanks for joining us. I have the pleasure of sitting here tonight with the first lady, and president of the United States, Stephen Carter Jefferson. Much has been said about our new president, but I look forward to delving into a conversation that will help us all better understand the mission of our new commander in chief. We all want to know how he intends to work with a very difficult Congress, and then we’ll discuss some more personal issues that plagued him while on the campaign trail. So thank you both for inviting me to come here. I was totally shocked by the invite, Mr. President, but very ecstatic that you chose me to conduct your first exclusive interview.”

  This was breaking news already. I didn’t know Stephen had chosen her to do this. I didn’t have to wonder why, and from the hunger in his eyes, it was obvious. I grinned at him without showing teeth. My hands were clenched together, and I had already begun to tap my foot on the floor as a gesture to hurry this interview the hell up. He looked straight-ahead at Chanel, giving her his undivided attention.

  “I’ve seen you on the news before and I applaud your style,” he said. “Couldn’t think of a better person to conduct my first interview, and no offense to you, but I don’t mind starting off soft, then going hard.”

  WTF! My eyes bugged from his comment, but when Chanel giggled, so did I. I guess both of our minds were in the gutter, then again, Stephen’s mind was there too.

  “Hey,” Chanel said, jokingly, “just because I’m a woman, that doesn’t mean I won’t go hard on you, Mr. President. There are plenty of questions that the American people still have, and in such a short period of time, you’ve caused quite a stir. Your performance in the Press Briefing Room today has been played over and over again on TV. What, exactly, are you trying to prove, and do you think that kind of tone is going to help you in any way?”

  “If you had an opportunity to watch my press conference from earlier, you would know that it shouldn’t be referred to as a performance. It was what I consider reality. I intend to keep it real around here, and I’m not here to kiss ass or make a whole lot of friends. Nothing or no one will stand in the way of me doing the job the people elected me to do. I can’t express that enough, and the only thing that I am out to prove is things can and will get done when we put aside all of the unnecessary rhetoric and partisan bickering, and get serious with the business of the American people.”

  “Many presidents have said some of the same things before. What makes you so different? Why do you think it’s going to be easy for Republicans to work with you?”

  “I’m not like any other president that we’ve had before. And all I can say to you is sit back, watch, learn something, and pay attention.”

  Seemingly caught off guard, she played it off by chuckling a little. “Ahh, okay. But, uh, what do you say to reporters like Austin College, and others, who felt kind of dissed by you today? Would you like to use this opportunity to apologize to them?”

  “No. But what I will say to all of them is get my name, as well as my title, right, when using it.”

  Looking more uncomfortable, Chanel shifted in her chair. She went on to ask Stephen three more questions about his performance today. I could sense that he was getting irritated with her. His tone had gone up a notch. I hoped that she noticed the warning and moved on.

  “Thus far,” Stephen said, bluntly, “I’m not feeling the purpose for this interview. I’m going to advise you to get to the real questions or turn those cameras off so I can go get some rest with my lovely wife.”

  At that point, my teeth started to show. I smiled harder, especially when he winked at me. That was my cue to chime in.

  “I know exactly what my husband is saying, Chanel, and our time is very valuable. We all have to get serious about the challenges that face our nation. My husband’s so-called performance in the Press Briefing Room should not be breaking news. Poverty is on the rise, many of our children are going to bed hungry, our country is close to being at war, infrastructure is a big concern, and many Americans are still without jobs. There are so many things that we need to focus on, and during my husband’s term, we’re going to do whatever we can to make this world a better place.”

  “We do have our issues, no doubt. But speaking of children, when are the two of you planning to have some? Now that the election is over, are the two of you planning to get started, or is it true that you are unable to conceive?”

  Stephen lifted my hand and planted a soft kiss on the back of it. That was my cue to stay silent and allow him to take charge.

  “All of those reports that you heard were false. We have talked about having children, but right now, we don’t see where a child can fit into our busy schedules. Since my father wasn’t there for me, it is extremely important for me to give my children all of the attention he or she may need. As president, I wouldn’t be able to do that. Raynetta would be an awesome mother, but she too is incapable of devoting her time to a baby right now. Whenever we’re ready, we will make the announcement. But I can assure you that it won’t be anytime soon.”

  “But other presidents and first ladies before you have managed to juggle work and family. There has to be a balance, and I don’t think any family has ever lived in the White House without children.”

  “Again, I would ask that you do your homework, because, to my recollection, there were, at least, five presidents who resided here without children. George Washington, James Polk, Warren Harding, James Buchanan, and Andrew Jackson. I’m surprised that a smart woman such as yourself didn’t know that.”

  Chanel swallowed, then went on to ask Stephen several questions about gun control, women’s health, race relations, and foreign policy. That was an easy area for any new president to trip up on, but he was thorough and knew the subject well. I guess all of those nights he’d spent in the Oval Office studying had paid off.

  “Well, that almost sums it up,” Chanel said. “But I am curious to know two more things. First, what are your thoughts about our first black president?”

  “Outstanding man who faced a great deal of unfortunate opposition, but was still able to move his agenda forward and improve this country in a major way. History will re
cognize him as one of the greatest presidents ever. I can only hope that I am as successful as he was, even with all of my imperfections.”

  “Imperfections? Care to elaborate?”

  “Something that we all have, including you.”

  “Yes, I do, but okay, Mr. President. One last, fun question. You were recently named one of the sexiest men alive. How does that make you feel, and Raynetta, feel free to chime in too? How do you feel about your husband having that status?”

  I jumped right in before he did. “Sexy can be defined in many different ways. I don’t know who created such a list, but I would definitely like to have a conversation with the woman, or man, who can make that judgment, based on his outside, not his inside. Nonetheless, he is very sexy and is also married to a sexy woman.”

  “That she is,” Stephen said. “And even though I’m flattered, being sexy isn’t going to get the job done that I came here to do.”

  “No, it won’t, and only time will tell if you will be successful.” She gazed at Stephen, then shifted her eyes to me. “This has been fun. I hope we get a chance to do this again, and thanks, again, for allowing me this opportunity.”

  We both shook her hand, and when the cameras turned off, I jumped up from my chair, caught that bitch by surprise, and let her have it.

  “I didn’t appreciate your question about Stephen and I having children. You know good and well that I’ve had some issues. I don’t care to discuss why, and to be frank, it’s none of your damn business.”

  Without saying anything else, I marched out of the room, leaving Stephen and my assistant behind. Minutes later, he came to the bedroom, where I had already taken off my clothes and gotten in bed.

  “Wow,” he said, standing next to me. “I’m surprised you let her get underneath your skin like that. Usually, you’re more in control of yourself. I really don’t think that was a wise move for you.”

  “And it wouldn’t be a wise move for you either, if you know what I mean. If I had a condom, I would have passed it to you on live TV. You may as well had stripped her naked right in front of me and screwed her brains out. I know that there are times when you can’t seem to keep that thing of yours under control, but by all means, Stephen, try your best to show me a little respect.”

  “Yeah, well, you know how I am, Raynetta. I’m the worst man you could have ever married, and you’ve always had plenty of good options.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do have options, as well as choices. So do you, and if you intend to hold the highest office in the land, and chase ass while doing it, that’s up to you. Eventually, you’ll go down. But just so you know, I won’t be going down with you.”

  Stephen responded with a shrug. He removed his jacket, then placed it on the back of a chair. After glancing at his watch, he sucked in a deep breath, then released it.

  “I’m not ready to turn in yet. Besides, I have some work to do. See you in the morning, and I hope you get some rest.”

  I didn’t bother to reply. I turned sideways in bed, then picked up a romance novel that was already on the nightstand. For the next hour or so, I indulged myself.

  4

  President of the United States, Stephen C. Jefferson

  Tyler and I sat in the Oval Office, watching the media go crazy over my interview tonight with Chanel Hamilton. Snippets that didn’t follow through on my whole conversation were played, and everyone from politicians to panels weighed in.

  “You sure do know how to turn up the heat,” Tyler said, smiling and loving every minute of what was going on. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

  “Yes, you have. It’s called foolishness, and it’s been going on for years.”

  He laughed, then plopped down on the sofa and yawned. “You may be on to something, but switching the subject, I need to step away for the weekend and go see about my father. He’s back in the hospital. My mother says he’s not doing well.”

  “If that’s the case, why wait until tomorrow? Why not leave now?”

  “Because I wanted to make sure everything was squared away with you and your first exclusive interview. You’ve had a long day, and I can assure you that things won’t let up around here.”

  “I don’t expect for them to, but I do expect for you to go see about your father. Leave now, and be sure to call and let me know how he’s doing.”

  Tyler nodded, then stood to leave. He shook my hand before making his way to the door.

  “Before you go,” I said, halting his steps, “stop by Andrew’s office and tell him I need to see him right away. If he’s not in there, shoot me a text.”

  “Will do, and enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “You too.”

  This time, I walked over to the sofa and sat. My feet were propped on the table in front of me, and my hands were clenched together behind my head. Minutes later, there was a knock at the door before Andrew came in.

  “Is everything okay?” he said, nervously wringing his hands together. “Tyler sounded like something was important.”

  “No, everything is fine. Come have a seat and relax.”

  Andrew flat-footedly walked into the room and sat on the sofa across from me. “What can I do for you, Mr. President?”

  “Two things. I need a new private cell phone, and the other phone needs to be disconnected. I also need for you to get Chanel Hamilton here tonight. I had some issues with our interview, and I want to speak to her, in private, about my concerns.”

  “She was kind of nasty toward you in that interview, but you and the first lady handled yourselves well. The feedback is definitely in your favor, and the American people remain on your side.”

  “That’s good to know, but I have so much on my mind that I need to say to her. More than anything, I want to make sure that nothing like that ever happens again.”

  As usual, Andrew got on it right away and honored my request. And almost forty-five minutes later, while I stood by one of the windows looking out, my senior secret service agent, Ben Harrisburg, entered my office. Chanel followed closely behind him, looking like a high school girl who was in deep trouble.

  “Thank you,” I said to Ben. “Shut the door behind you and allow no one to enter my office.”

  Giving no response, he exited. I walked around my desk and invited Chanel to have a seat. She walked slowly to one of the chairs, then crossed her legs after taking a seat.

  “I’m not sure what this is all about, Mr. President, but please allow me to apologize for upsetting your wife. I didn’t know that she had issues with having children, and had I known for sure, I would have scratched that question from my list.”

  “Listen, I’m going to say this one time and one time only. You don’t have to pretend with me. I would appreciate if you wouldn’t lie to me either. Many insiders, including you, know my wife’s history and are well aware of why she’s unable to have children. The horrific rape she endured years ago was quite painful for her, and she has always had a difficult time talking about what happened to her as a teenager. I was surprised that you made a decision to venture there tonight, and, quite frankly, I’m disappointed. I had more respect for you than I do for some of the other journalists. That’s why I gave you the opportunity to do the interview. While I do think that it went well, I do believe that there was a major misstep on your behalf.”

  A shameful look washed across her face. “I agree, and I deeply apologize. Sometimes I get caught up in the moment and can’t help myself. All journalists look for a story line that makes people crave for more information. I saw an opportunity and took it. I don’t mind apologizing to your wife, and the next time I see her, I most certainly will.”

  “Please do. And just so you know, there won’t be a next time. I will never allow you to interview me, or her, again. I will listen to my advisors and seek someone who has less fire in their eyes and a bit more experience.”

  Chanel’s eyes grew wide. She looked taken aback by my comments, as well as hurt. “Mr. Preside
nt, my apology was very sincere. I’ve worked as a journalist for almost ten years, and I assure you that I am proficient at what I do.”

  I shrugged. “Proficient, maybe. Completely professional, not always.”

  “Different words, with similar meanings.”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  “Let’s ask the dictionary. Do you have one?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  I walked over to the built-in bookshelf and removed a dictionary that was placed up high. I tossed it to Chanel, already knowing that the meaning of both words were, indeed, similar. She opened the dictionary and started to read the definition.

  “Proficient,” she said with her finger scrolling the words in the book. “Competent or skilled in doing or using something. Well advanced, may I add, and the synonyms are: skilled, skillful, expert, experienced, blah blah blah, and professional. So, there you have it, Mr. President. You were wrong, I was right.”

  “Soooooo, let me get this straight.” I walked toward her, stopping only a few feet away. “Competent or skilled in doing or using something, huh? Does that apply strictly to a certain profession or do other things apply as well?”

  She slowly closed the dictionary, then swallowed hard. “This dictionary is very limited, but I’m sure that one doesn’t have to be in a certain profession to be skilled or competent at what they do or use. They could be competent and skilled at doing or using anything, right?”

  “Could be, but would you like to provide me with some more examples?”

  “I would, but I think that your wife, the first lady, would have serious problems with that.”

  I shrugged again, watching as she nervously stood in front of me. In an attempt to cover more of her pretty legs, she pulled on the bottom half of her dress to lower it by a few inches.

  “She may have a problem with it, but then again, maybe not.”

  “Well, I have a problem with it, and I . . . I think I’d better go.”