Black President

by Brenda Hampton

  Some black people just didn’t know better. “And I’m going to sit back and laugh when my Secret Service agent arrives and drags your ass back to a sleazy, cheap strip club where you belong. Finally, if you refer to me as good ole Mr. President during sex, I can’t be your so-called president now.”

  I turned my head and saw Levi standing to my left near the doorway.

  “Please escort this . . .” I paused to catch myself. Had to remember for a second where I was at. “Get her out of here and never allow her to clear the gates of my house again.”

  Chanel fired every name in the book at me that she could as Levi dragged her away. I got a headache listening to her madness, so I leaned back on the lounging chair, closing my eyes again. Somewhere within the next several minutes, I started to fade. But when I heard someone step on the balcony, I opened my eyes without turning my head.

  “Did you get rid of her?” I said, thinking that the person was Levi.

  “No, I didn’t. But I am going to get rid of you.”

  I snapped my head to the side; the only thing I saw was a nine millimeter in his hand. After that, I charged out of the chair, preparing myself to hurdle over the the balcony, while hearing whistling bullets whiz by. The balcony was a long way up from the ground. All I could pray for was a safe landing, if I had to jump.

  20

  First Lady Raynetta Jefferson

  Stephen was in bed, bruised and shaken up from someone trying to assassinate him. Thank God Levi was there to chase away the person who shot at Stephen. More so, I was thankful to Levi for stopping Stephen, before he jumped over the Truman Balcony. He got banged up from running into the steel rails that surrounded the balcony. We were all on pins and needles, trying to keep this incident a secret. But as with any and everything that transpired in the White House, the murder attempt on Stephen’s life leaked. Reporters were everywhere. Secret Service had been running around like madmen too. Everyone wanted to see Stephen, talk to him, find out the specificities of what had happened, but he made it clear that no one was to enter our bedroom, with the exception of his doctor, his mother, Levi, and me.

  The doctor had just got done examining Stephen. His badly bruised midsection was wrapped in bandages, face was a little scratched on the left side, and hands were swollen.

  “You’re going to be just fine,” Dr. Fields said to Stephen, as he sat shirtless on the bed with his back against the headboard. I stood next to him, Levi was by the window looking out, and Stephen’s crazy mother, Teresa, had stepped away to go to the bathroom. Lord knows I didn’t want to deal with her tonight. But Levi had left, immediately following the incident, to go pick her up from rehab—per Stephen’s request. He didn’t know if there had been a hit put out on any of us, so he wanted us all there, under one roof.

  “Be sure to take your pain medication,” Dr. Fields ordered. “And please, Mr. President, get some rest. Stay in bed for, at least, another two or three days to allow your body to heal. The soreness will not subside if you do not rest your body.”

  “I will get as much rest as I can. Thank you, Dr. Fields. Levi will now escort you out.”

  Dr. Fields gathered his belongings, and right after he and Levi left the room, Teresa came out from the bathroom. She looked at me, and then the direction of her eyes traveled to Stephen.

  “I don’t know what to say about this.” Her hand was on her hip. “Who in the hell would want to kill you, and how in the world did they get in here? I told you before to let me handle that damn Secret Service. Since they have failed you, I’m going to do exactly what I planned to do all along.”

  Stephen quickly spoke up. “That won’t be necessary.” He reached over to the nightstand for his pain medicine. “I have this under control, and the reason why you’re here is so I can keep a close eye on you. I don’t, however, want you to get involved in this.”

  “Tuh. I’m already involved. And in case you haven’t noticed, this place, the White House, is no safer than where I was at. Please explain how in the heck can somebody just come up in here and shoot at you? I don’t know about that. Something is very fishy, if you ask me.”

  Stephen hit us both with breaking news. “It was an inside job, Mama. The person who attempted to kill me was my vice president, Tyler McNeil.”

  My eyes grew wide; I was shocked by what he’d said. “Tyler? Are you kidding me? Why would Tyler want to kill you, and—”

  Teresa quickly cut me off. “Stop asking dumb questions, Ne-ne, and don’t interrupt me while I’m trying to converse with my son. None of this would have happened, if it wasn’t for you. This is what can go down when you don’t keep an eye on your husband.”

  This was the wrong time for Teresa to talk mess to me. Not today. I wasn’t having it. “No. Don’t you dare interrupt me while I’m speaking to my husband. And who in the hell are you, blaming me for this? Go sit your ass down somewhere and shut up!”

  “What?” she shouted. “Bitch, I will—”

  “Enough, damn!” Stephen shouted with a scrunched face. “If the two of you can’t stay in this room for five minutes without tearing each other apart, then leave. I don’t have time for this tonight. Tyler just tried to murder me, and all the two of you can do is stand there arguing with each other.”

  Teresa crossed her arms, then rolled her eyes at me. “She’s the one who started it. All I wanted to know was who and why. She act like Tyler needed a reason to do what he did. You may want to check her pockets to see what she’s hiding. It wouldn’t surprise me if she has a bullet or two in her pockets for you too.”

  “Oh, please,” I snapped. “The only person I have a bullet for is you. And you’re going to catch one in your face, if you don’t stop running your mouth.”

  “Right back at you, tramp.”

  I bit my tongue to prevent myself from going ham on Teresa. Stephen growled loudly, then sighed. He tossed the sheets back, slowly moving away from the headboard. Wanting him to follow the doctor’s orders, I reached for the sheets to cover him again.

  “No, you’re not going anywhere tonight. Dr. Fields wants you to stay put for, at least, the next two days. Did you not hear what he told you?”

  “To hell with Dr. Fields. I have work to do, and besides that, Dr. Fields doesn’t have you for a wife and her as a mother.”

  He nudged his head toward Teresa.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she said. “You’re darn right he doesn’t have me as a mother. You do, so therefore, you need to get some control over your foul-mouthed wife, and you need to tell me where I can find Tyler. He won’t live past midnight, if it’s left up to me.”

  “Thank God it’s not,” Stephen said, moving the sheets away from him again. He turned sideways on the bed, struggling to get up. He looked at me before pointing at the chair. “Go get my robe.”

  “No,” I replied. “Where are you trying to go? You’re not leaving this room, and if you attempt to, you’ll have to go through me first.”

  “That should be easy,” Teresa said. “You’re fake, so no challenge for him there.”

  “Mama!” Stephen barked again. “Get out. Go sit in the Yellow Oval Room for a while and chill. I got too much on my plate right now. The last thing I want to deal with is the two of you.”

  Just then, Levi came back into the room. Teresa walked to the door, side-eyeing me as if she had so much more to say. I was sure she did, because I did too, even though Stephen didn’t approve.

  “Stay away from the liquor bottles out there,” I said, unable to control myself. “If you can’t, I’ll call downstairs to make sure they bring you a bunch of red plastic cups.”

  “And I’ll call your beautician to make sure she never fucks your hair up like that again. You look terrible.”

  This time, Levi intervened, displaying a scrunched face. “Ladies, ladies, really?”

  Teresa walked out, slamming the door behind her. Levi looked at Stephen with his face still twisted.

  “What is going on in here?” Levi q
uestioned. “Exactly what did I miss?”

  “Nothing.” Stephen carefully eased off the bed. He looked at his robe hanging over the chair that I refused to get. “Man, hand that to me,” he said to Levi.

  “I was going to get it for you,” I said. “But please listen to me. You can’t—”

  “If you were going to get it, Raynetta, you damn well would have gotten it, instead of standing there like a damn fool, arguing with my mother! Now, move out of my way and go find something constructive to do, while I go confront my shooter!”

  My body quivered from the sound of his shrill voice. How dare he speak to me like that, especially when I was only trying to help! If he wanted to be a bully and not listen to me, fine. I stormed toward the door, but when I placed my hand on the knob, he yelled at me again.

  “Do not go far! I can’t protect you if you leave this house, so whatever you do, stay right here where Levi or one of the other Secret Service agents can cover you.”

  I didn’t bother to respond. The truth was, we weren’t safe no damn where. There were people plotting to bring us down from Iraq to China, to right here in the good ol’ United States. Stephen couldn’t keep me safe if he tried, and if he depended on Secret Service to do it, he was kidding himself.

  Needing some alone time, I made my way down the hallway where I had to, unfortunately, pass by the Yellow Oval Room. Teresa was inside, sitting on a yellow, velvety sofa that was in front of a fireplace. The room was dim, but the crystal chandelier hanging from above gave off some light. A peach, green, and white flower arrangement was on the glass table, exactly where she had placed a glass filled with brown liquid. Her legs were crossed, and when she spotted me, she lifted the glass from the table, tilting it toward me.

  “Here’s to you for making my son hate me,” she said. “He will be so much better off without you, and I’m looking forward to the day you are no longer Mrs. Stephen C. Jefferson.”

  “Don’t hold your breath, then again, please do so because it stinks. And for the record, I will remain Mrs. Stephen C. Jefferson until the day you die.”

  I cut my eyes at her before pivoting and making my way to the main level of the White House where it was busy as ever.

  21

  President of the United States, Stephen C. Jefferson

  The second Raynetta exited the room, I got dressed. I didn’t have time to sit in bed and do nothing—too much was at stake. If Tyler had put forth this much effort to kill me, there was no telling what other plans were in place. I had to meet with Secret Service, wanted to sit down with Tyler’s wife, Gena, and I also needed to speak with Tyler himself. I also had to address the American people who, I was positive, had some concerns. It was a very chaotic night; surely, it would be a long one.

  Suited up and pretending as if my body wasn’t hurting all over, I made my way down the corridor with Levi next to me. So many people had questions, but I didn’t say a word as we passed by them.

  “Mr. President, are you okay?” one of my staff members asked.

  “Is it true, Mr. President? Did someone try to kill you?”

  “Have you seen the vice president? Where is he?”

  I ignored all questions. My head was up high, strut was like it had always been. The only time I halted my steps was when Andrew jumped out in front of me. Levi grabbed his shoulder, adding pressure to it.

  “Ooouch! Uh, Mr. President, I really need to speak to you,” Andrew said, then shifted his eyes to Levi. “Can you please not do that? All I want to do is speak to him.”

  I tossed my head back, causing Levi to let go.

  “Thank you,” Andrew said, straightening his suit jacket. He was real panicky—sweat was visible on his forehead. “What is going on here? I’ve been provided very minimal information, and as your chief of staff, I demand to know what is going on. Do not leave me in the dark, please.”

  “We will have a discussion as soon as I get finished taking care of a few important matters. Meet me in the Oval Office in about an hour. Call Gena and tell her to come here. It’s imperative that I speak to her. Also, find Sam. Tell him to prep the Press Briefing Room. I’ll need to speak to the American people after I meet with you and Gena.”

  “Will do, sir. See you in one hour.”

  Levi and I walked off to journey to our destination. But as soon as we entered the private staircase that led to the lower level of the White House, I dropped to one knee, yelping out in pain. It was in my side; I was forced to grab it. I tightened my eyes, sucking in several deep breaths to calm myself.

  “Are you all right?” Levi said, standing over me. His hand was on my back as I remained on one knee, trying to recuperate for a few minutes.

  “Yeah, I . . . I’m fine,” I strained to say. The truth was, the severe pain in my side was kicking my ass. Not to mention what I felt in my achy legs. I massaged my muscles, then made an attempt to stand. Stumbled when I tried.

  “Man, you don’t look so good. You want me to contact the doctor and ask him to come back?”

  “No. What I want you to do is get me to that motherfucker who tried to kill me. After I see him, I’ll be just fine.”

  Levi nodded. “Okay, but just so you know, you may not recognize him. I had to straighten him up a bit, just to get him to keep his mouth shut and stop calling me a nigger.”

  Hearing that nonsense gave me a little more strength. I followed Levi down to the lower level and into a heavily secured tunnel system that was supposed to be used for emergency shelter or an escape route. Several rooms were off the tunnel, and we entered the one where Tyler was at. It was dark and muggy. Had concrete walls and cameras that monitored him. His hands were cuffed behind him, and the first thing I thought while looking at him was that Levi had done quite a number on him. His wet, sweaty hair was spiked all over, as if it had been pulled. His shirt was ripped—bruises could be seen all over his thin body. Blood stained his face that had cuts and lumps on it. Slacks had holes at the knees, and his feet were black as tar. I stood near the door with my arms folded. Levi walked over to Tyler, snatching his head up so he could look at me.

  “Stand your ass up and address the president when he comes into the room.”

  Tyler remained slumped, looking weak as ever. To help him stand, Levi pulled him up by his hair.

  “Ahhhhh,” Tyler whined while squeezing his eyes together. “I’m standing, okay?”

  Levi didn’t appreciate his attitude. He punched him in the gut, causing him to double over and fall back on the steel bench.

  “Fuck!” Tyler shouted, then looked at me. “Tell this big-ass sloppy gorilla to back off of me!”

  Levi laughed, then hit him again. This time, he backhanded Tyler with a clenched fist, causing more blood to gush from his mouth.

  “Is . . . Is that all you got?” Tyler spit a gob of blood on the ground. He then sucked in his bottom lip, trying to prevent more blood from dripping down his chin.

  “I got more of that coming your way,” Levi said. “But I’m trying to be generous and save some for my friend.”

  Levi looked at me, but I glared at Tyler. “You’re a mess,” I said. “And I guess I’m wasting my time by coming down here to find out who put you up to killing me, right? From the way you’re speaking to my friend, I take it that you really don’t have much to say.”

  “I have plenty to say. That would be—go to hell, you fucking low-life nigger. I don’t give a shit what you or your homeboy do to me. You won’t get away with it. I have a whole lot of people out there waiting for something to happen to me, just so they can cut your freaking balls off and shove them in your mouth until you choke and die.”

  I reached down to cuff my package. “Sounds painful. I had a major reaction to that—what about you, Levi?”

  “Yeah, I did too. Triggered my reflexes.”

  Levi backhanded Tyler again. He fell back, hard, hitting his head on the concrete wall. He hollered out in pain, then rolled on the floor with his hands still cuffed behind him.

&n
bsp; “Yo . . . You’re guuuud,” Tyler said, then laughed. He played tough, which was fine by me. “Mr. President, I see why you want this big ol’ cotton-pickin’ nigger around. He’s a good boy who will serve you just fine.”

  I hurried to speak up. “Trust me, you haven’t seen nothing yet. Now who and why, Tyler? You have one opportunity to tell me. If you fail to speak up, I will offer your wife, as well as your daughter, my sincerest condolences for their loss.”

  Tyler looked me straight in the eyes, refusing to back down. “Fuuuuck you!” he spat. “If I die, you die. That I can promise you.”

  “See you on the other side . . . whenever I get there.”

  Always keeping my hands clean, I turned toward the door, opened it, then walked out. As I strutted down the hallway, I heard several loud shots that sounded like firecrackers. My thoughts . . . Done deal. Now it was time for me to go break the news to Tyler’s wife and to the American people.

  I entered the Oval Office, seeing that Gena and Andrew were already there. Almost immediately, Gena jumped to her feet. Her pale face was beet red. Eyes were filled with tears and dirty-blond, stringy hair was tucked behind her ears.

  “Where is he?” she asked, then rushed up to me. “Have you seen him, Mr. President? Where is my husband?”

  Not wanting to do this, but knowing that I had to, I lied. “I’m so sorry, Gena. The men who charged in here to assassinate me took Tyler. We do know that they were Americans. They belong to a hate group that has been sending threatening letters to the White House ever since I’ve been here. Homeland Security and the FBI thought that they were on top of this, but as Tyler was in here speaking to me tonight, he just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time. I was able to get away, but—” I paused, swallowed, and blinked my eyes, pretending as if I was too choked up to speak.

  With her trembling hands, Gena wiped snot from her dripping wet nose. “But what?” she cried out. “They took him and did what?”