The Benghazi Affair: A Parody Novel
Page 21
She just couldn’t take it anymore. “What difference, at this point, does it make?” she asked. “It is our job to figure out what happened and prevent it from ever happening again, Senator . . .”
The Senate hearing soon ended, but the day wasn’t over. The House Foreign Affairs committee wanted to grill her too, and in the afternoon, with the help of Huma, they trudged over to the Rayburn Office Building across Capitol Hill for the House’s chance to exact their pound of flesh. It was sometimes hard for her to remember, they see her as a potential White House candidate rather than the DSS agent she really was. “Perception was reality” is an adage in Washington for a reason. God how she hated this town . . . and the people within it.
After taking group selfies with the crowd in the Foreign Affairs committee chamber, a more office-like environment compared to the Senate’s version, Huma and her security detail led a path for her to a waiting black sedan.
Protesters gathered outside waving signs. Both her fans and her detractors, which she counted the press in that, gathered outside as she headed to the vehicle. Cameras snapped, while the more vocal of the protestors shouted epithets at her. “Tell us the truth!” one shouted. One sign read “Butcher of Benghazi” scrawled with red marker simulating blood.
The sedan’s rear seat door opened, but before she could step in, Huma reached over and whispered into her ear. “Trouble in Mali,” she said quietly.
Hillary was about to say something, but Huma continued. “But I can handle this one.”
She smiled slightly at her protégé and then, nodded. Huma got the message and elegantly stepped away even as Hillary stepped into the backseat, the door finally shutting out the outside world.
“You did a good job there, Hillary.”
Bill was inside the vehicle with her. She couldn’t help but smile back at him. “You think so?”
The former President bit his lower lip seductively and looked away for a moment. “You may be a secret agent, but you’ll always be just Hillary to me.”
“Oh, Bill,” she said, slightly blushing as the car pulled away. Then, she gave him a soft kiss.
Bill only smiled slightly at the note of affection, and returning back to her side, she looked out the window. Sign wielding protesters had lined the sidewalks with security keeping them at bay. They continued to wave their protest signs, one prominently saying “Hillary is a Killery!” while others only screamed and booed at the departing black sedan.
They don’t know, she thought sadly, about what really happened. Sometimes, she wished she could tell the American people. Maybe it’s better that way. A spy’s life, she mused as she looked out the window, the protesters passing from view. It’s considered a success when the public doesn’t know.
“I got a present for you.”
Bill’s words roused her out of her thoughts, and she looked over to him, not quite sure if she heard right.
He reached down to his side of the sedan, giving a wily look as he did so. She could only look back at him, her head slightly askew. She knew he was planning something when he gave her that look.
A moment later, he produced in his hand, a wrapped present. It was monochrome blue with a bow of the same blue tied around the present, suggesting this wasn’t for any special occasion.
He handed it to her, and warily, she took it in her hand. Giving him one last look, she smiled slightly and then carefully, unwrapped the present . . .
Inside the box was . . . a bumper sticker. She picked it up, and it read, “Hillary 2016” in the same graphics as her Hillary 2008 campaign used.
She exhaled and shook her head, reproachful and bemused at the same time. “Bill,” she said, a bit scandalized. Still, she couldn’t hide her smile.
“Thought you might like it,” Bill said to her, reveling in her embarrassment.
She put the Hillary 2016 bumper sticker back in the box. She knew Bill was encouraging her to make a decision, but in truth, even she didn’t know if she was ready for Hillary. “I told you,” she said. “I’m not ready to make a decision yet.”
“Well, don’t say I didn’t try,” he said chuckling.
She laughed quietly along with him, and as the black sedan traveled to Embassy Row, she laid her head on Bill’s shoulder, her hand around his. The future may be in the air with the fate of the free world in the balance, but with Bill by her side, she had all the time in the world.
The windows drew down, and then, a certain hand tossed the Hillary 2016 bumper sticker out, where it fluttered in the air past the traveling sedan.
All the time in the world.
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Ward Salud has been a fan of Hillary ever since he was a little boy when he first admired her resiliency in the face of steep odds and ferocious opposition. He’s read all of Hillary’s books (Invitation to the White House doesn’t count) and lives in the great state of Indiana.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Title Page 2
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
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Contents