POTUS: A Powerplay Novel

by Selena Laurence

  Everyone in the room began gathering their materials, but just as Jessica’s finger hovered over the Disconnect button, Vanessa stopped her.

  “Ma’am. Colonel Thibadeux would like a word after the room is cleared.”

  “Of course.” She waited until Jeff was alone at the conference table.

  “Madam President,” he said. “How is he?”

  “The same.” She didn’t know what else to say and didn’t honestly have the energy to add anything anyway.

  “May I see him later this evening?”

  “Of course, Colonel. Mr. Ambrose has been by twice, and Mr. Roberts as well. Any friends of Kamal’s are welcome. I think all of you will help him recover.”

  “Thank you.” The colonel seemed overcome for a moment, then he cleared his throat and continued. “I need to admit to you, ma’am, that I was not encouraging when I found out about your relationship with Kamal.”

  Jessica huffed out a bitter laugh. “I wasn’t aware you did know.”

  “Peter is a good friend of mine, ma’am. He was initially concerned about Kamal’s trustworthiness, so he came to me to vet him.”

  “I see. I guess my Secret Service agents aren’t as confidential as I’ve been led to believe.”

  “He was trying to do his best job, I think.”

  “Mmhm.”

  Jeff scratched his head, obviously realizing he’d just thrown his friend under the bus.

  “Relax, Colonel. I won’t come down on Peter.”

  “Thank you. I just wanted you to know that I was concerned about the relationship from every angle, but I’ve watched both of you over the last few months, and I have to tell you that I hope things work out for you.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jessica truly hoped things would work out for them too, because if they didn’t, she wasn’t sure she could keep going.

  Jessica jolted upright, slamming her elbow into the arm of the chair she was sleeping in. There was an alarm shrieking and chimes that wouldn’t stop. Her heart raced as she gained consciousness, remembering where she was.

  Her eyes popped open, seeking Kamal’s prone figure in the darkened room. His monitors were making the racket, and the first place Jessica’s gaze landed was on the steady green line that traveled across the biggest screen next to his bed.

  “Kamal?” She grabbed his shoulders and gave him a small shake. “Kamal! No! No, no no. Help!” she screamed, still shaking him, touching his face, his neck, feeling for a pulse.

  The Secret Service blasted through the door, medical staff hot on their heels. “Get the president out of here!” yelled Peter as he pushed past Kamal’s bed and looked at every nook and cranny of the hospital room and adjoining bathroom.

  “No!” Jessica screamed as other agents began to pull her from the room. The doctors and nurses ripped the sensors and wires from Kamal’s body and put him flat on his back, bedcovers torn away. And then they were giving him chest compressions, and she knew that he was going to die. He was going to die and leave her, just as John had, and her world would never be the same again.

  She struggled and sobbed, but the Secret Service were trained, and they were strong, and there were two of them, and in seconds, she was standing in the hallway, an agent on either side of her, holding her steady while she dipped her chin to her chest and sobbed.

  “Why don’t you sit down, ma’am,” said Agent Vasquez, leading Jessica to the bench in the hall where she’d sat with Fiona only hours ago.

  Jessica sat, wrapping her arms around her middle, struggling to control the tears that just wouldn’t fucking stop.

  Agent Vasquez put a tentative hand on her back, patting and rubbing in succession. “Keep the faith, ma’am. He’s a strong, healthy man. He’s got the best medical care in the country.”

  Jessica looked at her, giving her a grim smile. “Trust me, that can’t fix some wounds.”

  It was fifteen minutes—fifteen excruciating, soul-crushing, heart-wrenching minutes before one of the doctors came out of the room, looking exhausted and grim.

  Jessica put a hand over her mouth to restrain the cries of anguish that waited there.

  “Madam President,” the doctor said as she walked to Jessica.

  “Is he…?”

  “Mr. Masri’s heart stopped, but we have a steady rhythm again, although it wasn’t easy to get, and I’m not sure how long it will last.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The doctor sighed. “It appears that he’s developed an infection in the sac around his heart. Fluid had built up and was putting pressure on the heart. We inserted a needle and drained the fluid. Now we’ve put him on some very high-powered antibiotics, but I can’t promise they’ll work fast enough.”

  Jessica’s voice was as rough as sandpaper when she spoke back. “And if they don’t?”

  The doctor looked at her with sad eyes. “Then the fluid builds back up again, and it becomes more and more difficult to treat. The pressure from the fluids and the procedure to drain them all put strain on his heart that’s already weak. Our options diminish from this point on.”

  Jessica nodded as the doctor turned and made her way down the hall. She collapsed back into the seat next to Agent Vasquez.

  “Ma’am? Madam President.” Vanessa came jogging down the hall dressed in sweats and tennis shoes. “I’m so sorry, I was in a vacant room on the other side of the building. Peter texted me. I came as fast as I could.”

  Jessica nodded, and Agent Vasquez slipped away, Vanessa taking her place.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” Vanessa said gently.

  Jessica had to clear her throat before she could speak. “He has an infection in his heart. Or around his heart, I guess. They’ve put him on the antibiotics that can help, but they don’t know.” She looked at her chief of staff, who she realized embarrassingly late was also her friend. “If that doesn’t work, there isn’t much else they can do.”

  Vanessa said, her face scrunching in an effort to fight the tears, “You can’t stop believing—hoping. You have to help him fight.”

  Jessica nodded. “I never had the chance to fight for John.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s why I went on to live his dreams for him. I felt so guilty that I wasn’t able to fight for him any other way.”

  “This isn’t the same,” Vanessa said softly.

  “No, it’s not. So this is my chance, and I’d better use it wisely, hadn’t I?”

  And that was when Jessica knew what had to be done. “Will you please set up a press conference for first thing in the morning?”

  “Of course. What will the briefing be on? I’ll get the press secretary on the line right now so he can prepare.”

  Jessica shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be the only one talking. It will be brief, no more than ten minutes. I won’t be taking questions, only making a statement.”

  Vanessa’s eyes grew wide. “Um, no hint at all what we should be prepared for?”

  Jessica wiped her eyes, banishing the last of the tears. “No. There’s nothing you can do to prepare for this, and it can’t be spun. Just set it up and relax. You’ve done your job, all of you. Now it’s time for me to do mine.”

  Chapter 18

  The room was filled with press. They weren’t used to being summoned without an indication of what the topic would be, and the tension in the room was high.

  “Are you ready for me to announce you, ma’am?” the press secretary asked.

  Jessica gave her white pantsuit one more brush, and then nodded. “Yes, let’s do this.”

  Fiona watched her with concerned eyes. “Why do I know that I’m going to regret letting you do this?” she asked.

  “You don’t even know what it is I’m going to say.”

  Fiona put a hand on Jessica’s arm. “I know that if it were anything ordinary, you would have told me about it. Jess, are you sure?”

  Before she could answer, the press s
ecretary’s voice came through the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the president.”

  Jessica gave Fiona a smile and a wink and left her stewing in anxiety.

  Once she was behind the podium, she took a deep breath, and then it was as if time slowed for just a moment, and she could feel John’s presence, for the first time in so many years.

  She let the feeling of having him there again wash through her, and it was warm and comforting, and she knew then that she could do anything, be anything, and it was time for her to show the nation what kind of woman their president truly was. It was time to show them Jessica.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, everyone,” she began. “As you know, things have been difficult for the last forty-eight hours. And I realize everyone has been speculating about why Mr. Masri was with me yet again when this latest shooter attacked, as well as why I’ve been camped out here at the hospital.”

  Flashes went off, TV cameras hummed, and she could see reporters on the edges of their seats, ready to leap into action once she was done with her statement.

  “You all now know that Mr. Masri provided information to the United States regarding the earlier shooting that occurred at the White House. My press secretary will provide you with the updates on that as soon as I’m done. But I want to address something beyond that. Mr. Masri and I have been working together closely for several months now on the Millennial Accord for the Middle East. As we came to know each other, a relationship developed.”

  The gasps and murmurs rippled through the room like a wave of electricity.

  “The relationship is of a personal nature.” She smiled wryly. “I guess you could say we’re dating.”

  Cameras flashed at twice the rate, and reporters started shouting questions so loudly, Jessica couldn’t even speak over them. So she stood, silently, one eyebrow raised, and waited for them to quiet. After a few minutes when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to continue unless they quieted down, the shouting stopped.

  “Thank you. I’m not going to answer any questions, but what I will tell you is this. As Mr. Masri and I were getting to know each other, at no time was the security of the United States at risk. We discussed the accord, the investigation into the shooting, and things of a personal nature, nothing beyond that. When Mr. Masri came into possession of information that related to the shooting, he was forced to make a choice between his duties as an emissary of Egypt and his moral obligations to my safety and the security of the United States. He chose America’s well-being—and mine—and in so doing, he had to give up his post and his country.

  “As we speak, Mr. Masri is still in critical condition. I will continue to be by his side, as he has been by mine.”

  Then, Jessica Hampton, forty-fifth president of the United States, turned and left the room.

  It was the fifth day, well past the forty-eight hours that were so crucial, well past the point when the antibiotics should have begun to do their work, well past the time when it had become impractical to do business in a mobile office, but still Jessica stayed at Kamal’s bedside, and still he didn’t regain consciousness.

  “Madam President?” Derek Ambrose said as he slipped into the room.

  “Derek.” She stood and walked to him, giving him a quick hug. He had visited each day, and Kamal’s other friends had all come at least once each during the vigil as well.

  “Come and sit. Can I have the staff get you anything?”

  Derek tugged at his collar, not taking the seat she’d offered him. “No, thank you, ma’am. I’m actually here to talk to you, not to visit him.”

  “Okay. What can I do for you?”

  “Vanessa asked me to come.”

  Jessica looked at him curiously.

  “She’s concerned, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “You dropped the bomb about your relationship with Kamal, and you’ve been unavailable since. The press is going nuts, the opposition in Congress is having a field day, talking about national security and threatening impeachment proceedings. Your staff feels like you’ve abandoned them.”

  She ground her teeth together, overwhelming frustration gripping her.

  “I won’t leave him.”

  He looked at Kamal’s silent form on the stark white hospital sheets. “He wouldn’t expect—wouldn’t even want—you to do this.” He turned and faced her fully. “He would never want you to jeopardize your office to sit at his bedside.”

  Jessica looked down at the floor, and her heart hurt, so aching and painful that she felt certain it would eat its way out of her chest as they spoke. Fighting to get to Kamal so that it would never have to leave him.

  “For six years, all I’ve done is what other people expected of me. What John Hampton would have done. I can’t be that woman anymore. I love him.” She stood and put her hand on Kamal’s head, stroking the silky hair that fell over his brow. “I can’t leave him here alone.”

  Derek stepped closer and took her free hand in his. “And he won’t be. I’ll stay. No matter what, I’ll stay. I’ve been by his side since we were eighteen years old, and I won’t leave him alone now.”

  She shook her head stubbornly, gaze fixed on the floor in front of her.

  “Madam President, you may have started down this road because people expected you to fill Senator Hampton’s shoes, but you are the president, not him. It’s you who spoke to those millions of people in that election and told them what you could do for them. It’s you who gained the hearts of the entire world and crushed the preconceptions of what a woman can and can’t do in politics in this country.” He paused, releasing her hand and leaning a hip against the railing of Kamal’s bed. “It was you who stood up in front of the entire world a couple of days ago and told them that you aren’t simply their president but a flesh-and-blood woman who loves and is loved, and who feels no shame about that.”

  Jessica’s gaze locked on his.

  “You are not John Hampton’s widow anymore. You are the president of the United States, and your nation needs you.”

  His words were strong, but his tone was gentle, and in her heart, she knew he was right. She knew that regardless of how she got there, she was their president, and her people needed her as much or more than Kamal did.

  “You won’t leave him?” she asked, her eyes glossing over.

  “No. I’ve spoken to London. She knows I need to stay since his family refuses to come to the US. However long it takes. I’ll be here.”

  She nodded, feeling like a thousand tiny needles were drilling into her chest, puncturing it in so many places, it might never heal.

  “You’ll call if there’s anything—any change, any news…”

  “Yes. Immediately.”

  She sighed, gazing down at Kamal’s pale, drawn face.

  “I’ll give you a moment,” Derek said. “I’ll be right outside.”

  She nodded in thanks, and after the door closed behind him, she folded down the railing of the bed, just as she had every night since he was checked in, and climbed up beside him, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm across his taut waist. She kissed his cheek softly.

  “I’m so sorry, my love. I have to leave, for just a little while.” She laughed softly. “The children need me. You know they can’t be trusted alone for too long.” She kissed him again, snuggling in as close as she could get without disrupting his tubes and sensor wires.

  “Derek will be here with you, and as soon as you wake up, I’ll be back so quickly, you’ll never even know I was gone.” Then she leaned on one elbow, looking down at him and caressing his jaw, which had a substantial beard growing now. “Kamal. I need you to wake up. I need you to come back to me. I know I can do this myself, but I don’t want to anymore. I want you with me; I want you beside me; I want us to make the journey together. I love you, and I don’t want to do this life without you.”

  She pressed one final tender kiss to his lips, then climbed off the bed, carefully lifted the railing back into place, and stood
up straight. As she walked to the door, she didn’t turn to look back, she simply opened it, nodded to Derek, then said to Vanessa, “Please tell the staff that we’re returning to the White House. I have a job to do.”

  “Okay, Madam President, we have the feed ready to go. You’re on in five, four, three, two, and one!”

  Jessica sat behind her desk in the Oval Office, smiling warmly at the camera lens that was broadcasting her to every major network in the country.

  “Good evening, and thank you for giving up some of your personal, work, and family time to listen to this address.”

  Vanessa smiled encouragingly, and out of the corner of her eye, Jessica saw her press secretary texting frantically on his phone.

  “It’s been nearly a week since Andre Vorchevsky, a member of the Bratva Russian mafia tried to assassinate me and seriously wounded Mr. Masri instead. I know all of you have since heard my announcement that Mr. Masri and I are involved personally. Tonight, Mr. Masri is still unconscious in the hospital, and we are all praying for his full recovery.” She paused, swallowing once. “Most of all me.

  “I want the American people to have all of the information we are able to provide to you regarding the shooting and the Bratva’s involvement, as well as the involvement of certain factions within Egypt. Approximately one hour ago, President Abbas of Egypt was placed under arrest by Egyptian intelligence for his involvement with the Bratva in drug trafficking in the Middle East. President Abbas and the Bratva have been using loopholes within the trade laws of the region to smuggle drugs packaged in food aid. The Bratva supplied the drugs, and the Abbas shipping business provided the transportation.

  “When the Egyptian parliament instructed then Ambassador Masri to negotiate the Millennial Accord, they had no way of knowing that some of our negotiations would close that loophole the Bratva were using. President Abbas tried to pressure Mr. Masri into forfeiting the negotiations, but Mr. Masri, being an honorable servant of the Egyptian people, refused to forsake his instructions from parliament.”

  The camera light continued to flash, and Jessica took a breath.