by Claire Adams
He raised his left eyebrow—the one I liked so much. I felt my stomach flip. “You know how I feel about boring emails. Let’s get it handwritten next time.” He winked at me.
I laughed. “My, my. You’re quite the old man, aren’t you?
He shrugged his shoulders. He leaned toward me and I nearly felt his lips against my ear as he whispered, “Come to my office this afternoon. I want to talk to you about the campaign.” He winked at me as he drew away.
My face had already turned an incredible beet red. I scratched my head. “Okay,” I whispered.
I sauntered back to my desk and scribbled something—a few spare words—into a notebook. I could still feel Jason’s eyes across the room. Finally, the burning became too much. I lurched my head up, and his eyes were filled with vitality. He was bringing his fingers together like an evil conqueror, considering his next plot. I bit my tongue and tasted blood. This terribly dressed man could ruin my life.
I was simply his pawn, ready to do his bidding.
But I stood, knowing I needed to meet the president. I paused at Jason’s desk. Jason still peered up at me, his lips curling into a smile. “I have to go to the Oval Office,” I stated to him with authority. I looked down my nose at him in his chair. “Is there any sort of message you’d like me to pass on to the president?”
Jason tipped his head to the right. “Just don’t be too loud in there,” he stated, his eyes wicked.
I wanted to stomp my feet, to tug at my hair. I wanted him to leave me the hell alone. But I knew I held no real power over him. So I nodded my head. “I’ll recommend that you take on some new responsibilities or something?”
“Whatever you feel is right,” Jason stated, shrugging. His eyes looked so bright, so happy. What evil coursed through that man?
But I brushed it from me as I walked. I remembered that just the previous day I’d been so sure that my mind and my heart could find happiness, that I could go with the flow—at least for now—and take advantage of this truly mind-altering situation. I remembered his body over mine, almost like it was fiction I’d spun in my head.
I greeted the Secret Service agent and he opened the door for me, his face stoic. I wondered if they talked about me—the other woman.
I shivered.
Xavier sat in his chair on the other side of his desk. He smiled at me as I entered, and I bowed my head toward him. “Xavier. It’s been a moment since we spoke,” I stated. I felt the strained cordiality coursing through my throat.
He gestured toward the chair before him. I reminded myself to enjoy my life, to make my life all it could be. I swallowed and sat, crossing my legs. I tipped my head to the right, coyly. “What matter brings me here?” I asked him. I didn’t ordinarily ask him these questions. We ordinarily didn’t speak like this during work hours.
Xavier brought his hands out before him and gazed at his long fingers. They held nothing. His wedding ring glinted on his left hand. “I try to meditate,” he said then. “I try to make my mind come clean, to not think about anything.”
“How is that working for you?” I asked him, swallowing. I tried not to laugh, not to smile.
But then, a smile stretched across his face. “It’s not working at all, Amanda. I can’t get you off my mind. Not for a single second.” His words were low and quiet. He shook his head and leaned toward me, over the desk. He reached out and grasped my hand. I held his, running my thumb over his skin. He sighed. “What are you thinking about?”
In that moment, I realized that we’d been thinking about the same things. We’d been thinking about each other, about us—as a couple. I swallowed and shrugged my shoulders. “Everything. Nothing.” I swallowed. “And mostly you, I suppose. Just you.” My voice was raspy.
Our eyes met across the table. I leaned toward him. Our faces were inches apart, and our whispers were easy, direct. It was almost like we were talking to each other in bed. I told him the events of the campaign team that day, what we’d accomplished. He told me about his business meeting with the governor of Washington State. Our words were easy, laced with a serious comprehension of the political world. But always, beneath us, we were linked. We sat, hand in hand.
Finally, after many minutes of political talk, he stopped. He bit his lip, and his eyes peered into mine with such a question about them. “You know. I had a wonderful time the other night.” His voice rose at the end, as if he were trying to get a feel for what I thought about the evening, if I’d had a good time as well.
There was no question; it had been one of the best nights of my life.
I nodded slightly, feeling my hair drape around my face. I swallowed. “It was magical, Xavier,” I whispered. Even as my heart panged in my throat, I knew that it was right; this was what I wanted. I wanted to ride out this wave of feeling and reach the other side—even if the other side was death and destruction, a complete loss of my career.
Xavier nodded. He leaned closer and brought his free hand to my face, bringing his fingers through my brown, luxurious hair. “And I want you to know that I hear you—I hear your problems with what I said. I understand why you panicked. I can’t just leave my wife. Not yet. I don’t want to scare you off, certainly. This is all I want. This. What we have. Right here.” He leaned closer to me, and he kissed me, catching my lips with his. I felt the sunlight emanating in from the great window on his other side. I sighed, feeling my pussy pulsing beneath me. I wanted him so bad. But this moment in the sunshine, this moment in which he told me that he wanted me, that he was willing to wait for me—was beautiful enough.
The stress seemed to fall from me so easily in the wake of the news that Xavier was going to wait to tell his wife, that he was going to respect my wishes. I shivered as I pulled away from the kiss. My passion for him was growing, even as I felt that we were in a car that was about to ride over the cliff and into the ocean.
“See me again soon,” Xavier whispered to me. I thought of all the things on his mind—about the way he was meant to take over the world, about how he had so much riding on his shoulders. And all he wanted for relaxation was my company, my body. My conversation.
And so I nodded. “If you play your cards right, Mr. President. I think we can make that happen.” My voice was light. I stood up and removed my hand from his. I bowed my head and turned back toward the small door in the middle of the wall, hidden in the oval curve. I opened the door and closed it, feeling like I was removing myself from an arena of comfort.
The rest of the pulsing, crazy world—that’s what I had to worry about.
Chapter Five
I tapped down the hallway, moving my shoulders this way, then that—feeling like a luxurious version of myself. I continued to imagine having sex with Xavier once more, and the titillating thought of it seemed to make my entire body burst with energy, with life. I almost laughed at myself, blushing.
Suddenly, I burst around the corner and found myself face-to-face with Jason. That weasel. I stopped short. My face turned red and angry. I pressed my lips together and didn’t say anything. I just blinked at him, wishing I could smack his fat cheeks.
He was eating a granola bar, allowing the crumbs to fall all over the floor. My stomach turned at his gross image. I cleared my throat.
“I see you’re arriving back from your little meeting with the president. Didn’t last very long, huh?” Jason asked me. He took another bite and I listened to him chew.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I suppose so.”
“What happened in there? Too explicit to say?” He smiled at me. I turned my head to the right, then the left, making sure that no one was listening in on our conversation.
I hissed at him. “Can you keep your voice down? I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, okay? I had a meeting with the president about the campaign. We talked about our trip to California. Okay? Are you happy? What the hell.” I shook my head and breathed deep. I felt such a fresh, vibrant stream of energy. I could conquer the world, if I wanted to. Just not Jason.
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He just laughed at my rising anger. He took another bite, and then he spoke through the crackling granola. “Say, Amanda. I was wondering where you’d been the past few nights.”
My heart dropped into the acid-rich pond of my stomach. I blinked my wide eyes toward him. “I don’t know what you mean,” I whispered. My eyes glanced around me once more.
He laughed, tossing back his head in that menacing way. His fat neck shook to the left and to the right. “I think you do. You haven’t been in your apartment lately. I know this, of course.” He winked at me.
I felt like crying. He was actively spying on me, every day. “I don’t see that that’s any of your business.” I retorted. The anger was coursing my body. I couldn’t stop my tongue as I pushed the words forward, into the world. They came out hissing, snakelike. “And if you don’t stop spying on me, I think you know what’s coming for you.” My threat hung in the air between us like a cloud.
He tapped his toe lightly and tipped his head to the right, brimming with good humor. “Is that right? Well. What is it you’ll do? Please. I want to hear it. Tell it to me straight.” He brought his lower lip out and bobbed it at me, like a child.
I swallowed. “I’m going to inform the Secret Service that I found bugs in my apartment and that there has been a breach in security.” My blood was boiling. “Don’t even think I won’t.” I brought my finger into the air and tapped it first to the left, then to the right.
But he laughed once more. He brought his hands to his stomach and shook with such a jolly manner. The fat beneath his crooked shirt seemed to jostle. “I suppose you don’t care too much about your true love’s reputation, now do you? You talk and I play show and tell.”
Xavier’s face flashed before my eyes. Up until this moment, I’d thought that everything with Xavier had been resolved. He wasn’t going to tell his wife about us—not yet. And he was going to ease off that pressure, allowing me to take on my career without his assistance. However, for some reason, I’d allowed this shadowed, terrifying part of my life to drape away. I shook my head, feeling my lungs hiccup in my chest. “If you don’t stop—if you don’t stop—“ I said the words over and over again. I felt like I was hyperventilating.
But he just laughed again. He took a step toward me. I thought he was going to spit in my face. He bit his lip and then kissed me on the side of my face. I felt my stomach turn over. “If you ever make good on your promise to go to the Secret Service,” he began in a whisper, allowing the words to course through my body, “I will make good on my promise to ruin your goddamned life. Both your life and the president’s. Know that your problems are always lurking behind your back. I’m always watching you, Amanda.” He lurched his head back and winked at me.
I thought I was going to throw up.
He shuffled around me, leaving me to stand in the shadow of the corner. Sweat dripped from my armpits. I was certain I wouldn’t make it out of that predicament; I had made too many mistakes. I had such a big enemy. I knelt down on my knees and felt the tears cascade down my face, to the ground. I didn’t know what to do.
I took a taxi from the White House that afternoon, anxious to get out of that place. Jason had sat across from me in that massive room, humming to himself and continually eyeing me with this terrorizing gaze. I continued to stare at my own computer, but the light was burning my eyes, and I was falling into a state of unrest, of fright. For some reason, every time I grew afraid of this uncertain, rocky future at the White House, I pictured myself in that room with the president once more—the room with the candles. He was hovering over me, and he was kissing my mouth, my cheek. We were sure of each other, of each other’s bodies. We didn’t have to be sure about anything else. Not in this daydream.
The taxi screamed across the city, toward my apartment. I knew I had to get some more things out of there and take them back to Rachel’s apartment. Perhaps I would offer to pay for rent; perhaps I would ask her if she could help me find a new apartment. But it would all seem too suspicious. I didn’t want her to think I was too needy; I didn’t want her to think that I needed her, after all.
But God, I did.
I rushed up the steps and burst into my apartment. I tossed my things on my couch and screamed to the walls. “I DON’T KNOW IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, JASON, BUT YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE!”
I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth, feeling my heart beating so fast in my chest. I would kill him someday, I thought to myself. He was as good as dead.
I gathered my things and then I was out the door once more—a few suits and dresses draped over my arm. I hailed a taxi and popped into it, directing him toward Rachel’s apartment.
When I arrived, she was already home, sitting outside on her balcony. She watched me as I left the taxi, and she peered over the balcony, waving her long, thin arm. “I didn’t think you’d be back today!” she called to me. Her voice seemed hesitant. I couldn’t actually tell if she wanted me there, or if this was an unfortunate thing for her—if she just wanted her free time, alone. Without anyone.
I shrugged. “Can I take up another night on your couch? I’ll pay you a couch surfer fee!” I called. She laughed and waved me up. I felt my heart beat quickly with the thought of a friend, of companionship. I’d forgotten what it was like to actually care about someone.
She opened the door and helped me with my things, allowing me to collapse at the table. I poured us both a glass of wine, and she laughed from the couch. “Already? It’s only 5:30!”
“Exactly,” I said, my eyebrow raised. I took a sip and pursed my lips together, eyeing the red liquid. “It’s good. In fact, it’s probably great.”
“It’s from Napa,” Rachel explained. She closed her eyes as she sipped it as well, shaking her head. “My brother brought it for me when he came to visit last year. Delicious shit, isn’t it?” She sat at the table with me then, peering over at me curiously. “You seem a little off today. Are you okay?” She leaned on her elbow and gazed at me. The gaze wasn’t penetrating or off-putting. Rather, it was like a brush of support. Like a hand to hold.
I shrugged my shoulders. “The campaign team,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s a bitch sometimes. You know?”
She laughed, but her eyes said something else. I wasn’t sure she believed me. She cleared her throat. “It’s just that. You’ve been through all of this before. I know you have. I watched you work during the last round. And God, what a worker you were. You were the reason that I understood I wasn’t cut out for this job.”
My eyes widened. “No! I would have never wanted that to happen. I wanted you to stick around! You were the best part of it for me!”
She shook her head. “That’s certainly not true. You were out for blood, for guts.” She brought her fists together passionately. “I could see it from you a mile away. You knew what you wanted, and you fucking got it.” Her eyes were bright, impressed. “Which was why I always felt honored to be your friend. I felt like—if you respected me, then I was worthy of respect.”
My heart lurched in my chest. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I brought my hand over hers. “And here I was, always thinking you quit because of me. Perhaps you thought I was too intense, or that I was a mean person. Or something.” I shrugged, smiling at her.
She shook her head. “The work was too much for me, sure. I wasn’t happy. Well. The only time I was, I was with you.” She smiled and bit her lip, delivering this treasure to me.
I bowed my head, my heart beating fast. These kind words from a friend—the only friend I’d had in years and years—had made me want to give her some of my baggage, allow her to understand my Jason predicament. I cleared my throat, and I sensed that she was waiting for me to tell her things, for me to deliver the news of my stress to her. But I couldn’t tell her everything, certainly. The president’s very position was at stake.
“It’s just. I’ve been doing something I shouldn’t be doing,” I whispered. I allowed my eyes to glaze over, peering out at the wi
ndow. I didn’t want to see her reaction as I told her. “I’ve been doing something terrible, and someone found out about it. It’s not—it’s not the worst thing. You know. No one is being hurt by what I’m doing. But someone could be hurt—a lot of people could be hurt, including myself—if anyone in the world found out.”
“And someone did find out?” Rachel asked, her eyebrow coaxing into the air.
I nodded. “Someone knows.” The words were so solemn, laced with regret.
“How did this someone—I mean. Were you not careful?” Rachel asked. The words weren’t offensive, and I didn’t take them as such.
I shook my head slightly. “I was careful. I was so careful. I was—I was being spied on.”
“God. The bastards,” Rachel whispered. “They’re always spying, they always know things about people’s personal lives. That’s why—that’s part of the reason—“ She paused, shaking her head.
“You were being spied on?” I asked her in a hushed whisper, feeling that, for the moment, I had a kindred spirit. I placed my hand on her knee, and I felt her quiver. I shook my head. “You know you can tell me anything—you know I won’t tell a soul.”
She bit her lip and allowed her eyes to ramp up, back toward mine. “They had a camera in my house to watch me undress. They didn’t care about anything—about any information, nothing. They just wanted to know what I looked like beneath my clothes.” She shook her head. Her face had turned a somber shade of red. “I just. I couldn’t hack it after that. It felt like my life wasn’t sacred to them.”
I nodded emphatically, feeling like Rachel had finally hit the nail on the head, with regards to my situation. “That’s exactly it. They don’t respect my life; they feel no sense that it’s sacred, that I’m trying to keep it whole.” I didn’t realize that a tear had dripped down my cheek, then, falling to the table before me. Rachel brought her hand toward mine and grasped my fingers, allowing me to shudder as I cried for just a moment.