Black President

by Brenda Hampton

  I was looking at a text message on my phone when I heard a soft moan, causing my head to snap up. Michelle’s eyelids were fluttering a bit, but as I stood and walked over to the bed, her eyes got wider. She looked to be struggling hard to keep them open.

  “Hello,” I said with my hand on top of hers. “Can you hear me, Michelle?”

  She closed her eyes; tears ran from the corners of them. When they opened, she slowly nodded.

  “Good. That’s good to know, and I just wanted to come by and let you know that you’re in my thoughts, and I’m praying for you.”

  She slowly nodded again.

  “Is there anything I can do for you? I’m going to find out who did this, but is there anything I can do for you now?”

  All she did was lift her hand, lightly squeezing it with mine. Her eyes shut again, this time staying closed. I had to get back to the White House, so I planted a kiss on her forehead, then walked out. When I returned to the motorcade, I asked Levi to get Mr. McNeil on the phone.

  “Who is this?” he said in a sharp tone.

  “You made one mistake. You didn’t kill her. Please allow me to show you how it’s supposed to be done.”

  I left it right there. Hours later, the VP’s body was found. It had washed up on the beach, where an elderly couple found it. Chaos ensued around the White House, and the media was in full force. I predicted that Mr. McNeil was watching.

  27

  First Lady Raynetta Jefferson

  Stephen seemed stressed the hell out. I couldn’t believe how crazy things were around here. Every day it was something. I had barely seen my own husband, and whenever I stopped by the Oval Office to chat with him, he was too busy. He had spent only one—one measly night in our bedroom. I didn’t even know he was there until I rolled over and saw the back of his head. By morning, he was gone. He was back to being all that he could for everyone . . . with the exception of me.

  In addition to that, I was still being forced to deal with my mother-in-law. I tried to be nice to that woman, but every morning during breakfast she always had something smart to say. At dinner, she criticized me for everything that she could. From my hair to the way I used my fork . . . She constantly had something to say. I just couldn’t take it anymore; I was so on edge. The new Secret Service agent who trailed me had gotten on my nerves. I only wished that the other one, Landris, was still here. By now, I probably would have screwed his brains out and not had one single regret about it.

  “Ne-ne,” Teresa said, as we had just got finished with dinner, “is there a toothpick over there? Those meaty ribs I cooked got all in my teeth. They probably didn’t get into yours, with all of those gaps you have.”

  “I don’t have any gaps in my teeth, nor do I see any toothpicks. Ask one of the servers for one, and please stop bothering me.”

  Teresa cocked her head back as if I was the one who offended her. “Bothering you? How can I bother you by just asking for a toothpick? You’re just in a crabby mood, like you always are. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile one time this week—that is really an ugly thing. Then again, you did smile when Landris was behind you, trying to sample the goodies. Did you, or did you not, get you a piece after I left?”

  She freaking annoyed me. I winced, then shot her a dirty look. “I’m not going to answer your ridiculous question, but what kind of woman do you think I am? While your son may be a whore, I was taught better than that by my parents who believe in the sanctity of marriage. They taught me that marriage is a sacred covenant between one man and one woman. That we must forsake all others, and if not, our marriage will become broken. So don’t you dare sit there and accuse me of anything. The son you raised is the one at fault, so pat yourself on the back for not teaching him good morals and values.”

  She sucked her teeth and smacked her lips. “Yes, I did raise him. Raised him all by myself, and, bitch, I will tell you what a proud mother I am of the president of the United States. Don’t go quoting Bible verses and talking to me about what your parents taught you. What they should have taught you was, if a man continuously cheats on you, you leave his ass. If he disrespects you, you diss him back. If he ignores you, find someone else who will give you the attention you deserve, and if he put his hands on you, beat his ass with a bat and send him to his grave. My motto, do unto others as they do unto you. If you believe my son isn’t the man you need him to be, stop griping and walking around here frowning all the damn time. Pack your bags and march your wannabe happy ass out of here.”

  I jumped up from the table, leaned in close to her with gritted teeth, and said, “You would love that, wouldn’t you? Just so I can wind up being lonely and miserable—like you. That will never happen. Stephen and I definitely have problems, but they are nothing we can’t handle. Accept that and stay the hell out of our business.”

  I stormed away, feeling some kind of way about our heated conversation. Teresa took one last jab at me when she implied our marriage was broken. I had to admit that it truly was, and knowing that she was right hurt like hell.

  Torturing myself even more, I sat in my office chitchatting with Claire. We discussed everything from the discovery of Tyler’s dead body to how chaotic the White House had been. Everyone was on edge, even Claire, who seemed to be keeping something from me.

  “Spill it,” I said. “You know you can talk to me about anything, and nothing really surprises me these days.”

  “I know, but it’s like I hear all of this gossip around here, and I don’t know what to pass on to you or when to keep my mouth shut. I have an enormous amount of respect for you, and you’ve been one of the coolest people I have ever worked for.”

  “That’s good to know, and I enjoy working with you too. But if there is ever something that you think I should know, tell me.”

  Claire swung her hair over to one side, then crossed her legs. “There is a tiny rumor going around that the president is the one who killed the VP. Many are just speculating, and no one knows for sure, but he doesn’t seem bothered much about Tyler’s death. Also, a few days before Tyler’s body was found, someone beat up Michelle Peoples really bad. She almost died, and some think it was payback for what the president did. I didn’t know if you knew he’d been going to the hospital . . . quite often, to see her.”

  Breaking news was happening every day. I suspected that Stephen would do something vicious to Tyler, especially since he had already told me Tyler was the one who tried to kill him. But ever since then, we hadn’t talked much about it. Everything was hush-hush. He told me he would reveal everything to me, but never did. I had very little information, but I was sure of one thing. I would never tell Claire or anyone else what Stephen had told me. They could keep on gossiping around here, but the rumors wouldn’t get far. I was positive that Stephen had everything under control, but this mess with Michelle Peoples continued to be a slap in my face. Stephen was still holding on to her, and that was a huge problem for me.

  “In no way is Stephen a killer, so you tell whoever is spreading that rumor to back off or they will be escorted out of here. He has been through hell these past several weeks, and we all need to be thankful that the killers were found and are now behind bars where they belong. It angers me that some people always try to make black men out to be murderers or criminals who can’t help themselves from causing harm to others. He can never just be considered a decent man, trying to do the best for his country. As for Michelle Peoples, he and I will put that situation to rest soon.”

  Upset, I got up and walked out. Many more days like this, I would walk out for good.

  28

  President of the United States, Stephen C. Jefferson

  Tyler was finally put to rest, and during his funeral service, I delivered a lengthy eulogy that was full of shit. Mr. McNeil was so distraught that he could barely walk. During my speech, he had to be carried out of the church. Afterward, he lunged out at me on the church steps, but wound up tumbling down when I nudged him away from me. Many people viewed thi
s situation as an old, distraught man not being able to accept the loss of his grandson. I was the one to blame because the killing happened in the White House, my home. Some also felt as if there were a lot of holes in my story, but I had some very skilled, trustworthy individuals working for me. The truth would never be revealed; I was 110 percent sure about that.

  After I left the funeral, I made a quick stop at the hospital. Michelle was doing better. She was sitting up and talking now. Her smile made me feel better. I couldn’t tell her the truth about why this had happened to her, but the young men Mr. McNeil had paid to injure her were days away from being arrested. We knew who they were, and as president, I was privy to more information than most people thought I was. In the upcoming weeks, I was positive that Mr. McNeil would have to put up a lot of money, in court, to defend his actions. That would surely keep him busy for a while, and I predicted that he wouldn’t be bothering me anytime soon.

  I walked into Michelle’s room, immediately seeing the flowers I had delivered to her the other day. She had other flowers as well—some from friends, as well as from her soon-to-be ex-husband. She mentioned that he had come to visit her, but I was glad that we hadn’t crossed paths. I made sure my visits were short and sweet, but just enough to let Michelle know I cared.

  “You’re spoiling me,” she said softly as I came through the door. Her eyes were real narrow, and the swelling remained. Someone had brushed her hair into a ponytail that had a huge puffball in the back. She was sitting up, and had just finished eating.

  “I can’t resist.” I stood next to her, holding her hand. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Better, day by day. My kids came to see me earlier so that really lifted my spirits. Seeing you also helps, especially when you come in here all cleaned up and polished with your suits on. You do wear them well.”

  “Thanks. Just came from Tyler’s funeral. Sad, but it’s time for us to move on. I have some good news for you too. We know who did this to you. They’ll be arrested soon and off the streets. You don’t have to worry about them ever coming after you again.”

  Michelle sat quiet. Her eyes filled with tears. As she started to cry, I sat on the bed next to her. I reached out to embrace her, holding her tightly in my arms.

  “That day was so scary,” she said. “I thought I was going to die. All I could think about was why they were doing that to me, and, of course, my kids. I prayed for God to spare my life. Asked him for one more chance. Said that I would be everything that He needed me to be, if He just gave me another chance.”

  “Shhhh,” I said, holding her trembling body closer to mine. “He wasn’t ready for you yet. And now you get to live on and continue to be the amazing woman that you are. You also get to run my bathwater for me again. You were truly on time that day.”

  She laughed. I wanted to lighten the mood because I hated to witness women cry. Michelle pulled her head back, just to look at me. We were face-to-face, staring into each other’s eyes. Simultaneously, we leaned in to kiss. It was wetter. Juicer. More passionate than it had ever been. Lasted for quite awhile, and so very sweet. Once we were done, I pressed my forehead against hers, gazing into her pretty eyes again.

  “I’ll be in touch. Go to therapy, work hard, and know that I’m rooting for you. And if you need anything, please let me know.”

  “I will. As for you, don’t work at all, get some rest and stop trying to do so much. You’re only one man. One incredible man who needs to utilize more of the talented people you have working for you to accomplish your goals.”

  Michelle smiled; I knew exactly where she was coming from. I pecked her lips again before getting off the bed so I could go. As I walked to the door, she called my name. I turned to face her again.

  “After a kiss like that,” she said, “why do I get a feeling as if this is good-bye?”

  Sometimes, actions speak louder than words. I hated myself for what I had done to her, and I could never let something like that happen again. In an effort to make this easier for both of us, I nodded, smiled, and then walked out.

  * * *

  The following day, there was no time for hurt feelings, regrets, or emotions to run high. Another extremist terrorist group had struck again. This time setting off bombs that killed almost a hundred innocent people in another country. First and foremost, it was my duty to keep the American people safe. Then, everyone turned to me to keep the world safe as well. I had to make the call on deploying more of our troops, and making this decision couldn’t be taken lightly. So many people offered their opinions, as did many of my advisors. When all was said and done, the terrorists needed to be stopped. Many of their organizations had grown over the years, and now we also had to deal with homegrown terrorism that kept the intelligence agency busy.

  “You have to make the call, Mr. President,” Andrew said while I pondered what to do in my chair. “We have the strongest military in the world, and we are capable of shutting down some of these organizations.”

  Many others agreed. I gave the order to deploy more troops, and then took my case to the American people. No country wanted to be at war, but in certain instances, we had to. I didn’t feel good about it, and it turned out to be a discouraging day for me. The only positive thing was, Congress was expected to vote on gun control legislation later this week. There were enough votes in the Senate to pass the bill, but the House had stalled. Several more senators were needed; I was counting on my new VP to go on Capitol Hill and work her magic.

  Later that night, I sat, alone, in the Oval Office, meditating and wondering what in the hell I had gotten myself into. Never imagined this job would bring about a multitude of so many challenges and an array of disappointments. It wasn’t that I was clueless, but damn, this was unbelievable. All I wanted to do was help to make this world a better place. I made that decision years ago, trying to step up and do the right thing. I could only chuckle at how ambitious and determined I was. I had so much fire in me, and now, there was a lot of pain. I knew very well how to transform that pain into something better. But getting there wouldn’t be easy.

  My head was leaned back as I sat on the sofa. Shirt was unbuttoned, shoes were off. My thoughts were on the families that were affected because of their loved ones being deployed. But when the door to my office came open, I lifted my head. At the door stood Levi and Raynetta. She entered carrying two suitcases in her hands, and a heavy duffle bag hung from her shoulder. She dropped the load at the door immediately after Levi closed it.

  “I just came to tell you that I’m leaving,” she said with a straight face. She came closer, standing directly on the presidential seal. “I can’t do this anymore. This is one lonely-ass place to be in, and I do not know how any of the first ladies coped with living here. I have never been so miserable in my life, and you have done nothing, not one damn thing, Stephen, to make me feel as if we’re in this together.”

  I wiped down my face with my hand, feeling even more frustration coming on. “You chose me, Raynetta. And I chose this. For better or worse, you agreed to be here. The only difference between you and the other first ladies is they understood the demands and responsibilities their husbands’ occupation brought about. They didn’t run when things got tough. They didn’t wait around for their husbands to give them orders; rather, they took it upon themselves to create the best life that they possibly could during their stay here. They knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and they came up with programs and other beneficial things for the American people so that they could leave their own legacies. I’m not perfect, no. But if you want to leave, then go ahead and do it.”

  Raynetta blinked fast to fight back her tears. “I am, because I assure you that many of the first ladies you’re referring to, they didn’t have to deal with crazy-ass mothers-in-law and arrogant husbands who ignored them. Their husbands probably didn’t go around killing people and lying to the American people. And while some of their husbands may have had affairs, they probably didn’t fall in love with their
mistresses and spend more time with them than they did their own wives.”

  Raynetta just didn’t get it. “Are you fucking kidding me? It takes an arrogant, confident man to be here, and, sometimes, he has to ignore a whole lot of shit, as well as people, so he doesn’t lose his cool. Every single president has lied to the American people, and as far as affairs go, allow me to share some names: Eisenhower, Wilson, Garfield, Harding, Johnson, Bush, Washington, Cleveland, Buchanan, Roosevelt, Kennedy, and we all know about the infamous dress associated with President Clinton. The little black presidential book that I have in my possession will shock the shit out of you. It exposes more of what some of our presidents did while living here. You don’t know the half of it, and if you did, you would then know how ridiculous you sound, coming in here talking about leaving me. Based on what?”

  “Based on the fact that I have never considered cheating on you until recently. That is a good sign that this is over for me. This is the last thing that I want, but—”

  “Want? Okay. Let me tell you what I want. I want you to act like you love me and show me some damn support. Stand by me, stop complaining, stop whining, and just . . . just show me that you’re proud of some of the things I do. I have flaws, no doubt, but must that be the only thing I hear about? I don’t want to lose you, and it would crush me if you walked out that door. I also take issue with you thinking about making love to another man, but I accept that I haven’t been one hundred with you. So my question to you is, what do you want? And what do I need to do to prevent you from walking out that door?”

  I waited for Raynetta to respond. She replied with a hard stare.

  29

  First Lady Raynetta Jefferson

  I was prepared to leave Stephen. Talked to myself about it all day. Came up with good reasons to leave, and then I had to face Stephen in all of his sexiness tonight, as he came up with the right things to say. Damn him. I was tongue-tied, so I stared at him, thinking about what I wanted. Earlier, I knew what it was. Now, I didn’t. He had me looking at things from his perspective, and when it came to marriage, that was a requirement.