Black President

by Brenda Hampton

  Without hesitating, I led the way to the door.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, causing me to stop dead in my tracks and turn around. “Wha . . . What would make you think that your wife wouldn’t have a problem with me showing you examples of how skilled and competent I may be at using something?”

  “Because, in her heart, she believes that no one is more competent at doing anything better than her.”

  “She may be wrong about that.”

  “I prefer that you show me how wrong she may be, not tell me.”

  Chanel stepped forward and proceeded to show me by pressing her body against mine. She looked up at me, puckering for a kiss. I slightly lowered my head, and within seconds, we were engaged in an intense lip-lock that caused our hands to roam. I caressed her shapely ass with my hands while she gently massaged my rising muscle, sampling it. It was rock-solid hard and expanded more with her touch.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned as I grinded a little while holding her close to me. “This,” she backed her mouth away from mine, “this could get real, real ugly. Would you recommend that we quit while we’re still ahead?”

  I was about to answer, but when the door flew open, we both snapped our heads to the side. I was surprised to see my mother standing there, squeezing her chest as if she was in severe pain.

  “Lord Jesus, noooo,” she shouted. “Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time! Please tell me there is something wrong with my eyes.”

  With a frown on my face, I released the gentle hold I had on Chanel’s ass. She jumped away from me like I was contagious. The hump in my pants was still visible, and when my mother looked at it, she shielded her eyes with her hand.

  “Jesus be a fence right now,” she cried out. “I need you to stand between me and my son, before I reach out and knock the hell out of him.”

  I ignored her and rushed past her to see where in the hell was Secret Service. When I yanked on the door, I saw Ben casually strolling down the corridor, drinking a soda. He sped up his pace after he saw me standing with a twisted face.

  “Is everything okay, Mr. President?” he asked. “I told Oscar to stay here while I went to go get a soda. Where did he go?”

  “Not sure, but I gave an order, and you didn’t follow it. I need your resignation letter by tomorrow, and you can tell Oscar that I need his too. If you motherfuckers can’t protect me from my own mother, then you don’t deserve to be working here.”

  I went back into my office and slammed the door. My mother was saying something crazy to Chanel, but I quickly silenced her when I asked both of them to exit.

  “Not tonight, Mama, and, Chanel, we’ll talk soon.”

  She didn’t hesitate to leave, but my mother stood with her mouth wide open, gazing at me with a twitching left eye.

  “Don’t you dare start this mess up in here, Stephen. I came here to congratulate you on how well you handled that interview this evening. I didn’t expect to come here and find you dancing and doing the nasty with the devil. That woman is worse than the one upstairs in your bedroom. Do you not have any sense at all?”

  “Mama, I’m going to say this to you one more time before I call Secret Service to get you out of here. Not tonight. Not tomorrow either, and please don’t view this as disrespect.”

  She pouted and put her hand on her hip. “How else am I supposed to view it? You’re threatening to throw me out of here—after all that I’ve done for you?”

  I walked back to the door, opening it. Ben wasn’t there, but another agent had taken his place.

  “My mother needs to find her way to the front door. Please see to it that she gets in her car and makes it home safely.”

  The agent entered the office, and when he reached for my mother’s arm, she snatched it away from him.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shouted. “I’m leaving, but I will be back. I’m not done talking to you yet, and after tonight, we have a lot to discuss.”

  Maybe so, but that conversation wasn’t going to take place tonight. After she left, I sat back on the sofa and dropped my head back, closed my eyes, and thought about many ways that I could show Chanel how competent and skilled I really was.

  * * *

  The following morning, I was in the workout room with Andrew who badly needed to exercise. His T-shirt barely covered his potbelly; sweat poured down his red face as we jogged side by side on different treadmills. My press secretary, Sam, took the easy route today. He was lifting tiny weights while watching the news.

  “Your new phone and the numbers you requested to be locked in will arrive before eight o’clock this morning,” Andrew said, unable to catch his breath. “Also, the other phone has been disconnected. I ordered a new phone for the first lady as well. She complained about not being able to hear clearly on her phone.”

  “That’s fine, and thanks for taking care of that for me. You did have Chanel Hamilton’s phone number locked in, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. All of the numbers you requested are locked in.”

  He pushed a button to lower the elevation level on the treadmill.

  “I don’t know how you do this every morning,” he huffed. “I haven’t had a physique like yours since . . . since never. And I’ve seen you eat some fatty foods. What do you do? Jog in your sleep?”

  I laughed, but kept jogging with my shirt off and basketball shorts hanging at my waist. My all-black Jordans were more than comfortable, even though they were somewhat worn.

  “I do eat fatty foods, but I also take good care of my temple. If you’re going to be advising me around here for the next several years, I want you in good shape. It’s important to be healthy. Helps us live longer lives, and your health is important to me too. So crank up the treadmill again and let’s get finished.”

  Sam heard me talking to Andrew about how important it was to stay fit. He needed some work too and tried to make a quick exit before I got to him.

  “Fifteen more minutes, Sam,” I said, slowing down on the treadmill. “Plus, before you go, I need to know if you obtained that information for me.”

  He nodded as he walked up to me. “Yes, I did. I forgot to tell you. The reporter you asked about, her name is Michelle Peoples. She’s been a reporter for the past six years, has three children and a husband whom she doesn’t know is on the down low. Her parents have been married for almost thirty-five years, and she has two sisters who work for the government. I can get more information about her, if you would like for me to.”

  I stopped the treadmill, then reached for a towel to wipe sweat from my face. My initial thought . . . too many additional headaches so she was scratched.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “All I wanted to know was her name, just in case I needed to recommend someone else for an interview.”

  “I see. I’ll let you know which reporters I think are easier to connect with, but first, I need to get a good feel for them. Some of them ask a whole lot of questions, and you, Mr. President, are fueling them and giving them much to work with.”

  “Yes, I am, but that’s not a bad thing. And if you can’t handle yourself in the briefing room, let me know. Every time I see you, you look to be sweating bullets. Always dabbing your wet forehead, taking deep breaths, and fidgeting. If you’re going to represent me, you need to gain some confidence. I like you, Sam, a lot, but I don’t have time to come in there and do your job for you every day.”

  Sam looked as if his feelings were bruised. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but he was out there speaking for me. He needed a backbone. If things didn’t get better, he would be reassigned elsewhere.

  “I totally understand your concerns, sir. I’m working on it. Allow me a little more time to get familiar with the flow of things.”

  “Will do. Feel free to review my notes on your desk. If you have any questions or concerns, let me know.”

  Sam exited, leaving me alone with the slacker. Andrew had gotten off the treadmill, and stood on the mat to watch TV.

&nbs
p; “All they talk about is you, Mr. President. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, especially since I never hear them speaking about the vice president.”

  “That’s because their issues are with me, not with him. I hear them speaking about him, but not much.”

  “Not much at all, which makes me wonder why. I hope I’m not out of line by asking if you trust him. Do you?”

  I didn’t hesitate to answer. “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “The truth is, I don’t trust anyone. In an environment like this, trust can get you hurt, disappoint you, or make you want to kill somebody for betraying you. I learned that from the streets of St. Louis, so therefore, words like ‘trust’ are left out of my vocabulary.”

  Andrew appeared shocked by my answer. He slowly nodded, then wiped his wet face with his T-shirt.

  “I know that’s how you feel, but speaking for myself, you can trust me. I have no reason, whatsoever, to betray you, and as a matter of fact, I’ve always admired the heck out of you. You’re the kind of man this country needs. I’m behind you every step of the way. I’ll always be honest and upfront with you, and if you ever don’t like or appreciate my advice, feel free to tell me to go to hell. I promise I won’t take it personal.”

  “Good, Andrew. Go to hell with that speech, and no matter what you say, I’ll never trust yo’ ass.”

  We both laughed and spent the next thirty minutes or so finishing our workout and talking.

  In less than an hour, I had showered, changed, and prepared myself to have breakfast with Raynetta who sat across the table from me, still bitter about the interview. Her face was tight, and without a drop of makeup on, she looked real pale.

  “Did you sleep well?” I asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I tossed and turned all night, thinking of a whole lot of other stuff I should have said to Chanel for crossing the line. But you handled everything for me, didn’t you?”

  She evil-eyed me from across the table while sipping from a glass of orange juice.

  “Yes, I did. Handled it like I always do.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I did appreciate your reply to her. We are two very busy individuals, especially now. But at some point, I think it may be good for us to adopt.”

  There she goes venturing down this road again. I told her before that I didn’t want to adopt. I wanted my own children, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Adoption doesn’t work for me. Maybe one day I will change my mind, but please don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I never do, Stephen. Besides, you’re the one running this show, right?”

  “As long as you know, that’s all that matters.”

  “What I do know is, if you’re running this show, you’d better call your mother and tell her to stop worrying me about what I should be wearing as the first lady. I think she sits at home all day, just to watch me on TV and see what I’m wearing. I’m going to blow her away when I attend the next important function with my fur coat on in seventy-degree weather. That’ll give her something to talk about, as well as the media.”

  I didn’t bother to comment because I felt that Raynetta was pushing for an argument this morning. I quickly downed my coffee, told her to have a good day, and then got up from the table. I had another long day ahead of me . . . hours and hours of meetings and plenty of conversations. On my way back from the Pentagon, I started getting numerous calls and text messages about what Raynetta had worn to an outdoor function at the White House.

  “Is she okay?” Andrew asked, sounding concerned. “She had on a long fur coat with a wool suit underneath it. It was warm outside today, and she . . .”

  I sure as hell didn’t take her comment from earlier serious, and I was sure she wore that mess to tick off my mother. Maybe even me too.

  “She’s fine. I’ll talk to her when I get there.”

  The second Andrew started to speak again, my mother’s number flashed across the screen. I didn’t feel good about having her removed from my office, so I told Andrew I would check-in later.

  “Yes, Mama,” I said, answering her call.

  “Unfortunately, you married a woman who is a hot-ass, embarrassing mess. Do you know what she had on today?”

  “I’ve been told. She wore it just for you.”

  “Is that why she kept waving at the TV?”

  “Don’t know, don’t care. But since you called, I do want to make sure you’re okay after my door hit you in the back.” I chuckled a bit, she didn’t.

  “Come on, Mama. Where is your sense of humor at? Did you lose it?”

  “The only thing I’m going to be losing is a son, if you don’t get focused and wind up embarrassing the hell out of me. I’m no fan of Ne-ne, trust me, but that reporter who was seconds away from spreading her legs in the Oval Office is not the one. I can’t stand to watch her on TV, and how dare you stick your tongue down her throat, after the way she treated you in that interview.”

  “All she was doing was her job. And what you walked in on last night was nothing. We were just kidding around.”

  “Excuse me, but I’m a grown-ass woman, who may be old, but I can damn sure see. I’m warning you, Stephen. This time you’re going to wish that you had listened.”

  “Maybe so, but just so you know, I apologize for the Secret Service thing. I was kind of upset that Ben left his position and no one was out there to watch my door.”

  “I don’t blame you for being upset; you should be. Secret Service don’t give a shit about protecting a black man, and they were lucky that it was just little ole me strolling through the West Wing. If anything ever happens to you due to them slacking, there will be a price to pay.”

  “What you gon’ do, Mama? Hit them with your purse or kick them with those high-heeled shoes you wear?”

  “First, I’m going to tell you how ridiculous you sound, using words like ‘gon’.’ Then I’m going to polish my Glock 9 over here and put it to good use. Don’t underestimate me, Stephen. You already know how I am.”

  “I do, more than anyone.” I heard a beeping sound on my phone; someone else was calling. “Someone is trying to reach me, but before I go, do me a favor and back off Raynetta. You’re putting me in a bad position, and I already have enough to deal with.”

  “I’ll think about it, but in the meantime, tell her not to wear cream when she’s outside visiting with children. I saw her yesterday morning, and she looked awful. I called to tell her about herself, but—”

  “You’re not listening to me, Mama. I’m sure you must have mistaken her for someone else, because she’s a beautiful woman and you know it. Please, stop hating.”

  “She may be beautiful on the outside, but she is one ugly and rotten woman in the inside.”

  “No offense, but sounds like somebody else I know. Bye, Mama. Talk to you soon.”

  I could hear my mother’s voice still ranting as I ended the call. The other caller had hung up, but since it would be awhile before I got back to the White House, I dialed out to call someone who had slipped into my mind a few times today.

  “Chanel Hamilton speaking,” she said.

  “Tell me something good, before I go into my next meeting.”

  “What? Who is this?”

  “Nobody’s voice is like mine, and you should be ashamed of yourself for not recognizing it.”

  “I guess I should be, Mr. President, and your voice is definitely smooth. What a surprise this is.”

  “It shouldn’t be; after all, it’s not like you can just pick up the phone and call me. I figured you’d want to hear my voice today, so I pulled a few little tricks to help you out.”

  “I love surprises, but what would make you think I wanted to hear from you today? I’ve been extremely busy, and, to be honest, you were the last person on my mind.”

  I chuckled at her . . . cuteness. “I’m sure I was. And I can only hope that the next t
ime I call you, you’ll sound a bit more enthused. Enjoy the rest of your day, and don’t forget to give me a little shout-out on the news tonight.”

  “You can be sure that I will.”

  * * *

  Within the next few hours, I was making my way down the corridor with Andrew when he received a call from Tyler. We made a swift exit into another room and quickly placed his call on speakerphone.

  “How’s your father?” I asked. “I expected to hear from you by now, and we were starting to get a little worried around here.”

  “He’s receiving the best care, so I’m positive that he’ll be okay. I’ll be flying back in tomorrow night, but if there is anything that you need me to do before then, please let me know. I already cleared my schedule for a few days, but things are going to be hectic when I get back. My wife, Gena, is being a pain in the ass, and my daughter has a severe cold. She’s been asking for me to come home all day.”

  “Well, see about your family and don’t worry about your schedule. Andrew will fill in where he can, so we’re good.”

  “Thank you. See you guys soon.”

  Andrew and I left the room, then headed to another one where we had a long meeting with the secretary of Health and Human Services. The Affordable Care Act was still going strong, and we were now looking for ways to draft a plan that would enable Americans to purchase insurance across state lines. The meeting lasted for three long hours, but we were finally prepared to present something to Congress and see if they could come up with some kind of legislation that would pass both Houses. We shook hands, then left the room together. As Andrew and I were side by side, he walked swiftly to keep up with me.

  “As you know, Mr. President, it’s almost time for you to meet with some of the leaders from other countries. I know you’ve spoken to some of them already, and they congratulated you on winning the election. But if you don’t mind, I want to allow myself more thought on which leader I should invite to the White House first. I think that it’s important for them to come on our turf, instead of you going on theirs.”

  “I agree. Let me know what you ultimately decide, and be sure to let me know when you feel it’s appropriate for me to visit Capitol Hill again. I’m eager to do so, and I hope it will be soon.”