Page 7 of Power Switch

Special Briefing with President Birmingham.

Birmingham stands behind the podium in the White House press briefing room, face flushed as he points to someone in the row of chairs in front of him and leans forward. The reporter’s words are mumbled, but he must hear her clearly. With a nod, he leans back and clasps his hands on top of the podium.

“Yes, this is a last resort. Leading this country into a war that, in the past, has proven to be unwinnable is not ideal. However, we cannot allow these countries to continue extorting us. The price of oil continues to rise, and something must be done.”

A hand shoots into the air. The prick of a president points to the woman, who stands. After straightening her skirt, she locks eyes with Birmingham and raises her chin. “There’s talk that the DOJ is seeking responsibility for the spike in gas prices closer to home. Is this true?”

“No,” Birmingham brushes her off. He scans the room, looking for another question to answer, when the woman speaks up once again.

“Why would the leaders in the Middle East do this now? What are you saying has changed to make them drive the cost higher only for Americans?”

Absorbed in the press conference, I step through the door, pausing at the end of the couch. Randi's eyes flick to me before turning back to the TV. Shuffling on the couch, she leans closer to the screen.

“We don't know the why. But as the leader of this great nation, I cannot sit back and do nothing while the hardworking Americans bring home less and less due to the cost of getting to work. We will stay strong. We will push back. Thank you.”

With that, he walks off the stage, but not before shooting that one female reporter a death glare.

The moment he's out the door, the screen flips to a beautiful blonde sitting behind a newsroom desk. Her fast words lull to background noise as I turn to face Randi.

“Did you hear that?” she asks, lost in thought. Nibbling on her pinkie nail, she stands and moves to the other side of the room. “Vlad said something like that,” she whispers. “Said if we didn't stop Kyle, there would be war.”

“Maybe you should call the Russian president and ask him.”

She shakes her head, her loose dark hair falling over her shoulders and hiding her face before she tucks the rogue locks behind her ear. “No, I don’t want to draw attention to my… friendship? Relationship? Whatever Vlad and I have with the DOJ looking around. The tension between our two countries is still tense, and Kyle still isn’t aware that I’ve been in contact with Vlad. The meeting he and I had in Chile wasn’t illegal, per se, but it could add clout to an investigation if the AAG is trying to find dirt on me. I mean, Vlad did openly say he wanted to help me get into the president role. That’s borderline treason talk.”

“True. Didn’t think about how the AAG would view that relationship. Those fuckers are always snooping around, trying to find anything that’ll stick. Fucking lawyers.”

She blinks. Not a single emotion shifts across her blank face as she stares me down.

“Okay, no lawyer jokes. Noted,” I say, daring a step closer to where she stares out a window at the backyard. “Randi… fuck, I'm sorry about last night.”

“Yeah, that's what your text said.” My gut clenches at the annoyance in her tone. “Sorry for what exactly?”

“I didn't—”

“Actually, stop,” she says with a huff before turning to me. “I can’t process all this right now. I'm mad, hurt, and a whole bunch of other emotions I can't filter through, but honestly, I don't have the capacity to deal with it. I'm the vice president of the United States, and our idiot of a president is about to lead us straight into a war which he said himself is unwinnable. In less than an hour, I have a meeting with the AAG, and I have no fucking clue what he wants to discuss. I'm tired, hungry, and on the verge of losing it because I'm so unprepared for what this day will bring me. So I just can't right now.” Motioning between us, she purses her lips and shakes her head. “In the last twenty-four hours, this has gone from complicated to a weight I'm not sure I can bear at this point. I know that was my doing, asking you to play the part with Jessica until we figured out things with your mother and stopped her from sabotaging my political career. Guess I wasn’t prepared for the suspicious thoughts and doubts that seeing you together created. It doesn’t change how I feel about you, and it doesn't change us, but right now, I’m not ready to hear your explanation.”

“I understand,” I rasp. Heat builds beneath my skin, making my stiff clothes unbearable. Shrugging out of my jacket, I lay it across the back of the couch and perch on the armrest. I lean forward, resting both elbows on the tops of my thighs and clasp my hands together. Looking up through my lashes, I wait until she’s focused on me. “Just let me say one thing.”

Her eyes roll to the ceiling in annoyance, but a hint of a smile tugs at one corner of her lips. “Onething.”

“I screwed up not calling or coming over. I can see my actions, or lack thereof, hurt you. Seeing you upset because of me is the kind of torture that would break the strongest of men. I handled the situation badly and have no excuse besides saying I'm an idiot and I’m sorry.”

The bright overhead light reflects off the wetness building along her lower lids. “It was the not knowing. The wondering if…. Trouble, were you with her? Tell me now. Were you sorry because of something you did with her?”

Jolting up from the couch, I stride the few steps toward her before pausing. Two fingers beneath her chin, I tip her gaze up to meet my own.

“No, baby. Fuck no. There’s no one else for me. I was drunk and didn’t want to come over like that.” I search her face, wishing to every god that I could ease the hurt I caused.

“With Jessica in the picture now—” She blows out a breath. “I’m not sure where I stand, and when you didn’t come over, I just assumed, which was stupid.”

“Like I said, I have no excuse. I was drunk and it was late, that’s it. But I hope you'll forgive me for not following through on something I said I would do, and the thousands of other times I'll act like an idiot in our future. It will happen again, but I can promise causing you pain, hurting you, will never be intentional. It's just a piss-poor side effect of me being a guy.”

A full smile lifts her cheeks. “Well played, Trouble. Well played.”

“Does that mean I'm forgiven?” I ask, not hiding the hope in my voice. “Tell me what I need to do, Mess. I’ll do anything to ease the hurt I caused.”

My heart falls a little at the shake of her head.

---