by Claire Adams
Xavier raised his eyebrow toward me, unsure. He sat at his desk, tapping his nose with his long finger. “And why do you think Jason wants to see me, Amanda?”
“I’m certainly not the one to ask,” I answered, feeling my heart racing in my chest. I felt like I was either going to die on the carpet or run out of there screaming. I held my ground, somehow.
“You aren’t the one to ask?” the president murmured. “I find that highly unlikely.”
I swallowed. The whole thing was messy, and I knew it. I wanted the president to be safe from the knowledge of the photographs. I had no idea what Jason was up to. But I knew I couldn’t trust him; I couldn’t allow him to ruin this presidency. “Just promise you’ll stand your ground with him?” I whispered.
Xavier stood up, alarmed. He seemed nearly angry, and I wanted to take it back—to yield the fact that I didn’t think he was a weak president, that he could certainly hold his own. But Xavier saw the expression of fear on my face, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a step back, toward the window. “Have dinner with me tonight, Amanda,” he stated, looking at me as if I were an injured dog.
I bowed my head, knowing that I could not. This went against the entire plan. I couldn’t grow close to the president once more. There was too much at stake. “I’m sorry, Xavier. You know I can’t do that.” This was all I could say.
But Xavier spun around the desk in a simple motion, stepping toward me. His nose was mere inches from mine, and I felt his breath hot against my lips. I closed my eyes, trying not to give in to temptation. But instead of kissing me, he began to whisper: “I need to know what’s going on with you. With everything.” His eyes were searching around the room haphazardly. “The evening will be secure. No one will know about it. Is that clear?”
My body felt all wrong, like my joints were in the wrong places. I swallowed, knowing then that Xavier suspected something. But I didn’t want him to know about any of it; I had to keep it all a secret. And so I swallowed. And I agreed that I could have dinner with him. Just one dinner. I would flirt. I would smile. And then, at the end of the night, I wouldn’t have to date him again. And he wouldn’t be any wiser about the photographs.
Chapter Eleven
I jumped out of the Oval Office then, and found myself in a continuous daydream about Xavier—about the evening in which we would gaze at each other, alone, without prying eyes. Of course I knew I couldn’t allow it to happen. I knew it was completely insane. But this was, in so many ways, what I wanted.
I rushed down the hall. As I spun into the great hall in which so many workers were flying through phone calls, creating such havoc, I smiled to myself for just a moment. What we were creating was truly wonderful. We were prolonging a beautiful presidency and the happiness of so many Americans.
Suddenly, I felt it: the hand on my shoulder. It grabbed the fine fabric of my blue and white striped blazer and tugged my back—literally like a puppet. I felt like a ragdoll as I was dropped into the seat in front of Jason. He unwrapped his grip from me and adjusted his own sloppy shirt. “My Amanda. How are you doing today?”
I felt my mouth open with such shock. I wanted to cry out, to attack him with ravenous nails. But instead, I simply stated, “I’m fine, sir. And how are you?” like the dutiful puppet I was.
Jason seemed pleased, entertaining himself with my discomfort. I cleared my throat slightly and watched as he brought his pen tip to his mouth, over and over again, while raising his eyebrow. He looked like he was in the midst of a massive twitch. “I wondered if you’d had a chance to talk to your little friend lately?”
“You mean the President of the United States?” I asked him, scoffing a bit.
He nodded, not acknowledging my snark. I bit my lip for a moment, trying to finagle my way out of the conversation. Behind me, a young girl—an intern—dropped an entire wad of white papers and allowed them to stream like kites throughout the office. Jason clapped his hands suddenly, forcing me into a state of shock, and yelled out, “CLEAN IT UP!”
I cleared my throat. “Anyway. I did speak with him, and he’s inclined to have a meeting with you. This afternoon, if you’re lucky.” I tipped my head.
Jason smiled. He looked like an oversized baby when he smiled like that: so gape-toothed and pulsing with fat. “You’re doing a swell job, Amanda,” he stated then. I felt like he was my teacher. “Gosh, you’re doing such a swell job. I don’t know what we would do around here if it weren’t for you.”
I wanted to spit on the ground. He was treating me with such disdain in that moment. I’d been dragged through the mud because of those photos; I’d been made to do ridiculous things. Most of all, I’d been made to fear for the career I’d worked so hard for. It hung like a string now. Would he allow it to break?
Suddenly, he brought his fingers into the air, pointing downward. He waved me off with them, forcing me up from my chair and back toward my sad, crooked desk in the corner. I felt like a piece of gum at the bottom of someone’s shoe. My only purpose was to cry to old friends, sleep on couches, and then come to work and do whatever Jason wanted.
I sat at my desk and stared at my computer screen for a while, blinking evenly and feeling more like a robot than a person. I knew that at 2 in the afternoon, we’d have our press release meeting. The president was declaring another few aspects of the education reform bill. It was his baby—the very reason he’d been elected in the first place. Now, in the second term, he would enhance it and restructure it to work out the kinks. It was a great plan—a wonderful wave on which to ride out the rest of the election.
I didn’t go to lunch, even as I watched the interns, Jason, and the Secret Service agents shoving salads and burgers down their throats. I shuddered at them, feeling the aching emptiness in my stomach. Would I ever feel normal again? I was continually feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience.
Suddenly, and all too soon, it was 2 in the afternoon. Xavier appeared at the far end of the hallway and he sauntered toward us. The room grew quiet and Jason stood, nodding his head toward the president—all but saluting him. I stood as well, as he entered. I held my hand over my stomach, listening to the way it was erupting inside of me.
I kicked into gear. The press release was still my main duty. “Hello, Mr. President.” I felt every person’s young eyes on me as I walked toward him, taking his arm and guiding him through the press release proceedings that I had outlined. As we passed Jason’s desk, Xavier leaned toward him, over the desk. They shook hands, and Xavier pointed toward the press release.
“What do you think of this?” he asked Jason. The entire room remained so quiet.
Jason looked beyond Xavier, toward my face. His face was actually leering at me, making me feel like I was only three inches tall. I felt my stomach drop out beneath me.
“Honestly, Mr. President, I think the press release needs a little work,” Jason spoke then. His voice was so light, so bouncy. He was saving his friendliest self for the president, I knew. All around us, the workers were poised, ready to get to action when we approved the press release.
Xavier raised his eyebrow at this, uncertain. “You think it needs work?” He turned to the paper. He nodded. “A bit, perhaps.” He handed it back to me, not unkindly. “Just a few minor tweaks here and there should be fine,” he stated, nodding.
Jason’s smile was so large. I held angry eye contact with him, even as the president turned toward the great congregation of workers and presented himself. “Hello, my campaign workers. Today, we’re rolling out the next step in my education reform plan, and I couldn’t be more grateful to have each and every one of you on board.” He sniffed for a moment. “When the television turns on tonight in homes all over the world, you know what they’re going to learn about? They’re going to learn about the ways in which we—we here together—are going to educate the nation’s children in positive ways.”
The people let out a great cheer. My heart had stretched itself in my chest. I brought my ha
nds together and applauded with the rest of them, glancing over for only a moment to see that Jason had stood up and directed lewd motions toward me—motions that reminded me, of course, of the photos he had stockpiled at his home office computer, I was certain. I brought my hands to my stomach, feeling waves of disgust and anger. Would I ever feel normal again?
Xavier called me to Jason’s desk then, and the three of us—like some awkward threesome—worked through the outline, scratching things out and rewording. Jason had far too much say in the final product, and my blood was boiling. But I couldn’t say anything. Everything I suggested was automatically vetoed by the harsh voice of Jason—so authoritative in the rushing, chaotic room.
I bit my lip and looked up at the president, feeling Jason’s leering eyes on me. Xavier was completely enthralled in his work, patiently making notes in his small planner. I wondered if he’d written a small note for me—for me that evening, somewhere in the book. I wondered if it was written in code.
But I couldn’t linger on this. I held my hand over my stomach and I told the men that I was suffering from a stomachache. Anxiety pangs were eating my heart, my lungs, my throat, and my stomach, anyway. I couldn’t stand there a moment longer. I rushed from the room in a sort of haze, still feeling the determination in Jason’s face.
He wanted to destroy me.
Chapter Twelve
After nearly growing sick in the bathroom, I found myself back at my desk, my head between my legs. A small bead of sweat had dropped down my forehead, toward my nose. I felt like a mess, but I knew the workday wasn’t close to being over—that I still had so many lonely, anxious hours without Xavier by my side. I could feel his presence back in the office.
When I lurched back from the bottom ethers of my desk, I found that the room no longer held Jason. He was missing from his desk, leaving only a sad pile of papers on the edge. I brought my hands to my hair, tugging a bit and remembering that he was probably meeting with Xavier while I sat there, so alone in my reverie. The thought of it panicked me. I brought a Kleenex over my eyes, over my mouth, trying to find a way to breathe normally.
But suddenly, the Oval Office door erupted down the hall, bringing Jason back into the world like a messy birth. He looked quite pleased with himself as he walked, bouncing a bit and allowing his belly to arch high into the air. His eyes were directly on me from the distance, and I held the eye contact, daring him to approach. I couldn’t be so afraid of him anymore. He’d gotten his meeting with the president. What more was he going to ask me for, now? He had a direct fucking line.
He came to me and flung his hands onto the desk, forcing the photo of me and my mother down onto the ground. He ticked his tongue at the top of his mouth and he looked at me playfully. “You know, I just had a really fine meeting with the president.”
My heart quickened. I sat still in my chair, looking up at him. I blinked wildly. “And?”
I didn’t want to give him any satisfaction. But the satisfaction seemed to come from himself, regardless.
“Of course, I can’t tell you anything. Not here.” He waggled his eyebrows high on his face, and my insides squirmed.
I stood, pointing my finger on the now-empty desk between us. I stabbed it down, harder and harder. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, Jason. You didn’t tell him about the—“
But Jason just brought his finger to his lips in a jerking motion, shaking his head quickly. “Nope nope! Don’t want to give away any trade secrets.” He spun around then, leaving me at my desk alone once more. He sauntered down the hallway, back toward the bathroom. I felt like I lived in a sea of doubt, of uncertainty. When the fuck was I going to get out of here?
But I had hope.
That evening, I would be with Xavier. I would be with him; comfortable, even if a bit nervous because of the events of the day. I couldn’t tell him anything, certainly. The mere fact that I was having dinner with him was far too risky.
I dressed in my bedroom, kneeling beside the dresser, trying to make sure I wasn’t revealed to the camera—wherever it lurked. I righted myself and peered in the mirror at my slim frame, at my gorgeous brunette hair. I still looked good, I knew. Even after all I’d been through; even after all I’d worked for. I still looked good.
Out in front of my apartment building sat a Secret Service vehicle. I slid myself into it, and we sped into the night. I thought for a moment about the education press release—how it had already been met with incredible acclaim. I felt a burning burst of pride.
We arrived at the White House—that joyful beacon of white light. I hopped from the cab and tapped to the front door. However, I suddenly felt a hand on my elbow. I peered up, frightened, at the man beside me. “Dimitri?” I asked him.
“The president has requested we take a side entrance,” Dimitri stated, not a single ounce of happiness in his voice. I followed his lead, down the steps, around the side of the massive house. I had never entered from this particular door. He opened it for me and searched the interior before allowing me to enter.
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“Secret arena. The president holds his top secret meetings here.”
“And I’m top secret?” I whispered, unsure of how to feel.
“We certainly don’t think that will be true for long,” Dimitri muttered. Perturbed, I didn’t say anything in response.
His irritation with me made my heart cold, my fingers jittery. I followed behind him, down the steps, noting a soft glow at the back of a small room. He gestured with his massive arm, allowing me to pass him. My eyes were bright, trying to catch his. But he wouldn’t return my eye contact.
I entered the room and found a small table set with long, luxurious candles. The candlelight was the only illumination in the room, casting a soft, ghostly glow over everything. I could see Xavier in the light. He stood before me; the most handsome man I’d ever seen. I swallowed and walked toward him, feeling like I was going to meet my doom.
“Good evening, Amanda,” he stated. His voice was deep, filled with such passion for me.
“Hi,” I whispered. My word was so wispy when compared to his voice. He brought the chair out for me and allowed me to sit just next to him. I brought the flounces of my dress around the chair. “This is beautiful.”
“I know,” Xavier said, looking only at me.
The chef came then. He poured the wine and brought out an appetizer course of soup. I felt so on edge that I couldn’t even eat. I picked up my spoon and then placed it back down once more, upset with myself. Why had I allowed all this to happen to me?
But Xavier started out simply with his conversation.
“You did a marvelous job today on the press release.”
“Thank you,” I murmured back, unsure. He had really ripped it apart during the meeting, and I wasn’t sure how I was meant to feel. I swallowed.
He set his spoon down. “You’re all right, aren’t you, Amanda?” he asked me.
I nodded brightly, falsely. “Of course.”
“Because you’ve been acting so strangely about us—ever since—“
Ever since we made love so passionately on camera? I wanted to ask. I kept my mouth shut.
I bowed my head. “I’m just a little nervous about things, you know.” I laughed it off. “But this—this evening with you is all I want. It’s all I want.” I hadn’t meant for those words to come out of me, but there they were—taking up space at the table, next to the glasses of wine and the simmering soup.
He brought his hand over the table and placed it over mine, his eyes large. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I blushed, knowing he couldn’t see it in the candlelight. I made a light joke—something I couldn’t even remember right after I said it, I was so nervous. But he laughed so jauntily that he ultimately had to hold his stomach and lurch forward, cackling.
I laughed, too. Our conversation was so fluid together. I felt our connection growing, deepening. In the back o
f my mind, I knew we had so many problems. I knew that if Jason caught wind of this dinner, he would have the photographs out the door and to the news sources in an instant. But in this moment, laughing with Xavier, I was free. I wasn’t a campaign manager, and he wasn’t President of the United States. We were just people who were falling in love with each other.
I could hardly eat my food, my main course, my dessert. I touched his chest, his arm. “Who were you in college, Xavier? Were you the ‘cool’ guy; were you the frat boy? Who were you?”
“Are you trying to compare me to your former college boyfriends? Because I can assure you, I did a good deal of studying. But with a 40 in my backpack at all times, of course.” He winked at me then. I clutched my stomach and laughed.
I pushed my plate back toward the center of the table, feeling so full even after only a few bites of the plump pumpkin ice cream. I licked my lips and gazed toward him, even as I caught his eyes on me. He blushed. “Would you like to go to the side room? There’s this lovely record player. I think it belonged to Carter.”
“President Carter?” I asked, laughing. “So this is the secret lair of a president. Fine foods and record players.”
Xavier shrugged. “And a few AK47s, but only for the occasional get-together.”
I laughed and followed him into the side room, where a small lamp was already set out next to the record player. I pieced through the records and found one that seemed perfect. “You like the Stones?” I asked the president, bringing the shining black circle out. It seemed to have a heartbeat, a pulse in my hands.
I placed the record on the player and set the needle, bringing the jiving music into the world. I tapped my feet and swung my dress around, remembering the glory days when music could take you wherever you wanted to go.