Madam President

by Cooper, Blayne

  "No, I'm fine, thanks." She pushed her glasses up, rolling her neck to work out its tightness before taking the glass. She was amazed that it was, indeed, ice cold. Are they all mind readers?

  Lauren glanced at her watch. They'd been in the air almost two hours, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Devlyn since they parted in the hallway. Quit your whining. You're a big girl, and you know she's busy. With a soundless sigh, she went back to her notebook and her milk.

  Dev finally showed up outside her door almost an hour later. The President gave a light rap and heard Lauren's answering ‘Come in'.

  Blue eyes rolled at Lauren as Dev marched into the office, arms outstretched in front of her like Frankenstein's monster. She walked stiff-legged across the room to the couch, where she collapsed face down. "I'm such a bad mother," she mumbled into the cushion.

  "What?!" Lauren snorted. "No way."

  Dev rolled over, clutching a small throw pillow to her chest. "I just realized that I'm not going to be home for Christopher's birthday next week." She folded her arms around the pillow and tucked it under her chin, looking down the couch at Lauren. "Maybe I can airmail him a camel."

  The writer turned her body, lifting one arm to rest it on the back of the couch. "Nah, that's overkill. Besides, you get him a camel, and next he'll want an elephant, and before you know it: poof! You've got rhinos eating the bushes in the Rose Garden, and the south lawn is a petting zoo.” C’mon, Dev, smile.

  Dev's laughter rang out through the plane so loudly that Lauren wondered if the Press rats, who were housed near the rear of the plane and went along on every Air Force One flight, could hear her. Then she got hit in the head with the pillow Dev had been using.

  "Hey, be nice!" Lauren scolded as she confiscated Dev's pillow and pressed her face into the soft cloth.

  "I'm always nice." Dev grinned, but the happy expression faded quickly. "I'll figure out some way to make it up to Christopher." She stopped speaking for a moment, and a contemplative look crossed her face. Dev's eyes went serious. "This is the kind of thing he's never going to forget though, isn't it?"

  Lauren felt a pang deep in her chest. It was only a birthday, right? He would eventually understand that Dev had pressing commitments that were of global importance things that couldn't wait for a little boy's party. Lauren smiled sadly at the President. "No, it's not something he'll ever forget."

  Dev nodded slowly and pushed up off the couch, moving toward the door. She exhaled tiredly. "That's pretty much what I figured."

  Tuesday, March 9th

  They had been at the Embassy for three days and this was the first time that Lauren had had more than a moment to enjoy her room's balcony. She stared out at the city that pulsed with life. It was congested and colorful. Foreigners stood out like sore thumbs, their business suits or touristy shorts and T-shirts clashing with the native's traditional white robes. Car horns mixed with the angry shouts of pedestrians and the occasionally whinny from a donkey or horse. It was a curious mix of old and new world technology, culture, and attitudes that Lauren found more interesting than appealing.

  The writer snapped off a few photographs, then headed back inside, stepping out of the heavy perfume of highly seasoned, roasting meats, local pastries, and car exhaust.

  She was amazed when Dev ordered everyone to take their third day ‘in country' to rest and relax. ‘Everyone', Lauren found out, was a relative term. David was still working like a madman, as were several aides and advisors on foreign policy. But most of the other staff, including Dev herself, used the day to relax.

  The President slept away the entire day, and Lauren suspected that the dark-haired woman was still fighting a nasty case of jet lag. While she slumbered, David had easily taken charge, giving orders that Dev not be disturbed for anything. He made it perfectly clear that she needed to be well rested for the upcoming meetings.

  Lauren had managed to take a nap herself, but felt restless and was up long before Dev. She took the time to do some exploring and shot two rolls of film, but was hesitant to venture too far from the executive quarters. There were just too many strange faces milling about, constantly staring at her and whispering as she, or anyone connected to Devlyn, passed. No. Lauren preferred to stick close to her friends, especially the beautiful one who ran the most powerful nation on earth.

  The first meeting was set for tomorrow morning at 9:00 A.M. Tonight, however, Dev was hosting a reception for the dignitaries who would be attending the meetings. The Embassy was simply crawling with workers, ranging from kitchen and cleaning staff to security personnel and military. Lauren was soaking up the dry heat, watching the ordered chaos from the balcony of her room for a few moments, before a knock at the door sent her back inside.

  She settled her camera on a table and opened the door to be greeted by Dev's thousand watt smile. Devlyn was holding a garment bag and looking incredibly pleased with herself. "You know," Lauren started, her hands coming to rest on her hips, "I've known you long enough now to know that that smile is trouble." But even as she teased, her eyes worriedly searched Dev's face, relieved that the lines of fatigue and tension that she'd seen yesterday appeared to be gone.

  "Oh, so that's how it is, huh? I bring you a present, and you accuse me of causing trouble." Dev shrugged nonchalantly and threw her nose in the air. "Fine. I'll just take this reeeeally beautiful, incredibly expensive evening gown and find some other short, cute blonde to give it to." She sniffed in mock indignation and turned around, barely clearing Lauren's line of sight before an enormous grin sprang to her lips.

  Lauren's arm shot out, grabbing the back of Dev's shirt. "Waaaait just a minute, Madam Commander and Chief!" She tugged the woman into her room and eagerly closed the door. "Number one, I'm not short"

  "You're shorter than I am."

  "Everyone without male plumbing is shorter than you are, Stretch," Lauren defended.

  Dev laughed. "True."

  "And number two" Lauren held up two fingers.

  Dev draped the garment bag over her arm. Her eyes twinkled. "You're not gonna try and deny that you're cute, are you?"

  "Do I look stupid?"

  Dev opened her mouth, and Lauren clamped her hand over it. "There's really no need to answer that, Devlyn."

  The President's eyes screamed, ‘Who, me?' But she prudently remained silent.

  Lauren smirked and pulled away her hand. She eyed the bag. "So are you gonna show me? Or do I have to beg?"

  Dev didn't say a word. Her evil laugh alone was more than enough to make Lauren blush to the roots of her hair. I love it when she does that, Dev thought affectionately. "All right, Mighty Mouse ouch!" Dev grasped her arm and scowled. "I bruise easily, you know!"

  "Then you shouldn't call people names," came the reasonable response.

  "You know, I'm pretty sure it's a federal crime to hit me."

  Lauren lifted a brow as she liberated the garment bag from Dev's arms, noticing it was a tad heavy for a garment bag. "Call a cop." Her gaze flicked around the room, looking for a place to hang it, but before she could move, Dev took it back and held it up for Lauren's easy inspection.

  The blonde carefully unzipped the leather bag. She gasped when the dress came into view. Dev hadn't lied. Wow. "Oh, my." She fingered the black, sequined material reverently. "It's" She swallowed emotionally. Nobody had ever given her anything so lovely. "It's beautiful. I can't um I can't believe it's for me." Suddenly bashful eyes tilted upward, and she gazed at Dev from beneath pale lashes. "Thanks," she said softly.

  Dev sighed happily. God, Marlowe, she's got you hook, line, and sinker. I'm totally and irreversibly twitter-pated. "It's I mean, it's for the reception tonight," she explained needlessly, her tongue failing to comply quickly enough with her brain's command to start talking and stop looking like a moron.

  Lauren nodded and mercifully dropped her gaze from Dev and refocused on the dress.

  Once out of the beam of those intense gray eyes, Dev found she could think much more clearly. "I
personally thought the most beautiful woman in the room should have the most beautiful dress."

  Lauren blushed again, unsure how she should take these compliments. Dev was as solicitous as a lover, but surely she didn't feel that way about her. Other than a little harmless flirting, Dev had never given Lauren any indication that she felt something other than friendship for her. Still, she was flattered by the attention, and the way Dev was looking at her caused her belly to flutter nervously and her palms to go moist.

  The biographer dismissed the most obvious explanation of what she was feeling, chalking up the sweet-talking to Dev's being well rested, in a really good mood, and charming as hell. "You know, you're gonna spoil me if you keep this up. I mean, gee, great big white house, a private plane, permanent dog sitters." She grinned, scrunching up her nose and wrinkling the corners of her eyes. "I think I'm ruined for anyone else."

  Dev nearly bit her lip through. From your lips to God's ears, Lauren.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were someone awfully important."

  "Nah, I'm just a geek stalker." She laughed. "Okay, I've got a meeting and Liza is gonna be here to drag me downstairs by my ear any moment. She has learned too much from Jane, I tell you, but I'll be back to get you at about six and we'll go down for the reception. I'd invite you to join me for the meeting, but it wouldn't go over well."

  "I thought the first meeting was tomorrow?"

  "The first official meeting is tomorrow. This afternoon's is with the Crown Prince. It's nothing important. Photo op and sound bites for the press, that sort of thing." Dev grimaced, wondering how much longer she could hold up her arm before discreetly lowering without looking like a wuss in front of Lauren. "It'll be boring as hell. And you've already been there and done that a million times, so please continue to enjoy your day off. If I didn't have to go I wouldn't. Just relax and enjoy. You can watch the dog and pony show on closed circuit if you like."

  "I'll do that." She closed her eyes for a moment, scratching just above her eyebrow. "Umm, please don't tell me I need my password to activate anything here. It's several thousand miles away at the moment."

  "No, everything here is simple voice activation."

  "Finally, something simple." Lauren rolled her eyes. She studied Dev's face, her eyes widening with realization. "Jesus, put that down." Without a warning to Dev, Lauren pulled the bag from her hand. She grunted at its weight and interestedly peered into the bag. There were shoes in the bottom and several jewelry boxes. "My goodness, Devlyn! This weighs a ton!"

  "Nah. I barely noticed it," Dev lied. "I just wanted to make sure you had a decent selection of accessories to go with your surprise." Dev suppressed a grin. "There are a few baubles in there I hope you'll like." Her fingers idly played with the bag's zipper. "But I burrowed them. So no losing them, okay?"

  Lauren nodded, gulping a little. "This wasn't necessary, Devlyn. I could have..."

  "Don't be silly," Dev admonished gently. "I wanted to." Dev gestured toward the bag, already picturing how lovely Lauren was going to look. "I'll be back in a couple of hours to escort you. Unless you've got someone else in mind," she commented with forced casualness. Half the Press Corps and a good portion of her own staff were in love with the beauty.

  Lauren shook her head. "I'm all yours, Madam President."

  Now that's more like it. Dev's heart began to swell. She knew that those simple words shouldn't mean so much, that they didn't mean what she wanted them to. But still they made her happy, she found herself lacking the will power or inclination to fight the feeling. "See you soon then."

  When Dev left, Lauren unzipped the bag and pulled out several pairs of shoes. She held them up to the dress and, with a little nod, selected a medium black heel with a thin strap around the ankle. Then she set them aside and pulled out several velvet jewelry boxes that had Cartier imprinted on them in gold letters.

  Grey eyes widened slightly when she realized that when Dev said she had ‘borrowed' them, that meant the jewelry was on loan from one of the finest jewelers in the world. Lauren shook her head in simple disbelief. "Good God, Devlyn. Don't ever let it be said that you don't know how to make a woman feel special." She tugged over the dress and let out a nervous breath. "I only hope I can do all this justice."

  * * *

  Lauren flopped down on the bed and ordered the TV on, requesting a translation in English so that she could watch the photo op. Dev stood proud and tall, looking absolutely incredible. The power of her presence alone drew every eye to her and captured the viewer's attention completely.

  Almost resentfully, she dragged her gaze from Dev to inspect the shorter man standing alongside her, who was undoubtedly Crown Prince Karim Sami Hassan. He was nice enough looking, she considered thoughtfully, estimating his age somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. He had a generous mouth and a well-trimmed, dark beard that disappeared into a thick mass of wavy, black hair. The Prince's olive coloring made him appear more Mediterranean than Middle Eastern, and his dusky skin was set off nicely by his loose, golden-colored robes, which were streaked with red. He wore the traditional headgear of his people.

  The United Arab Alliance had chosen him for this meeting because most of his formal education had taken place at Cambridge. Once, he had even visited Devlyn's own college alma mater, Harvard. They believed his youth and open mind would serve him well in dealing with such an infidel. He wouldn't be as quickly offended as the elder members of the Alliance.

  They spoke quietly with one another and then shook hands, dragging out the normally quick ritual for the flashing cameras.

  After a few moments, the Prince leaned over and whispered something to Dev. When she pulled back, she was still smiling, but something had changed.

  Lauren sat up on the bed and pulled a pillow into her lap, missing Grem at that very moment. She studied the image, looking into eyes that were normally rich and vibrant, but now appeared as cold and stony as a grave. "Oh, boy, I do believe that Madam President is pissed."

  * * *

  The meeting ended, and the Press Corps shuffled out of the room. David began making his way over to Dev, but she waved him off, needing a few moments with the Prince. She did her best to maintain her calm demeanor, but she could already feel the sneer forming on her lips.

  "Your Highness." She stopped and cleared her throat. "I appreciate the fact that you saw Ms. Strayer today on television. And I also appreciate the fact that you find her an attractive, desirable woman." Dev's nostrils flared. "But let me make something perfectly clear to you. She is not approachable. And she is most certainly not interested in remaining behind in your lovely country upon my departure." Dev's heart clenched at the very thought.

  The man's eyes narrowed, and he ran the back of his hand over his dark, closely cropped beard. "I was under the impression that there was no romantic involvement between you and Ms. Strayer," he said in perfect, though slightly accented, English. "My people were assured by your people that your press was simply looking for a sensational story, and that Ms. Strayer was free to be, shall we say, pursued."

  When I find out who said that, he's walking back to the United States! So what if it's true! Dev's teeth actually ground together when he looked at her with eyes daring her to say differently, which she immediately did. "You were misinformed," Dev answered flatly. "I'm sure that you understand I must deny our involvement to the press for appearances' sake. But I assure you, Ms. Strayer is very much taken. She will be accompanying me to the reception tonight."

  The Prince looked Dev directly in the eye. "She is your lover then?"

  "Absolutely," she practically snarled, startled by the proprietary ring to her voice.

  "But she is not your wife," he clarified smugly. He tilted his head to the side, waiting for Dev's response. With a quick jerk of his chin, he kept his own approaching entourage at bay.

  Dev's jaw clenched. Asswipe isn't getting the picture. "That changes nothing.” Except for the fact that if she were my wife, and you wer
e saying these things, I'd wring your scrawny neck on the spot. “The fact remains that Ms. Strayer is unavailable to you, Your Highness." She straightened to her full height and looked down at the Prince with barely contained rage. How dare he? “I trust, Your Highness, that this is a closed issue?"