Page 2 of Presidential Bargain
It didn’t matter that my own party had chosen me as their candidate two weeks ago without as much as a girlfriend, or that my body bore the physical and emotional scars of my dedication and service to my country. What suddenly mattered was that I didn’t have a wife. Or a family. My running mate had a family. Wasn’t that good enough? DeWayne and Avon West were the epitome of Southern charm and grace. That should’ve been sufficient but sadly, itwasn’t.
“There are other candidates, other women to consider,” Lewis said, but I could hear the anxiety in his voice. He wasn’t confident in this plan anymore. I looked over at Jenkins and he wore a similarexpression.
I made eye contact with DeWayne, but he just sat back in the armchair he occupied, crossing one long leg over the other. The look on his face said, “You’re fucked, dude.” He wasn’t totally on board with this plan from the start, but I wanted the Oval badly. Picking DeWayne as my running mate had been a calculated move. I knew how my base would respond to picking a man of color as my running mate. When I announced him, my poll numbers went through the roof. DeWayne was a well-respected senator from the state of Georgia. His constituents loved him and he worked just as hard as I did to make a difference. The only problem I had with him? He had shitty taste inmusic.
I didn’t blame them for being worried. There were other women who had applied to fill this “position”, but they weren’t her. She was the best. I chuckled to myself. Georgie Washington. That was her name.Seriously.
Georgie was smart and passionate. I could see it in her eyes. And so unbelievably gorgeous that I felt myself grow hard the moment she walked in the room. Long, silky, honey-amber hair waiting for me to wrap around my fist and pull while I devoured every inch of her. Full, lush lips made for sucking my cock. And bright green eyes that instantly saw through this bullshit plan. No, there wasn’t another woman.Shewas going to be the nextFirstLady.
“We need her. We’ll just have to come up with a way to get her on board,” I told them definitively. I felt it deep in my bones; there was just something about her. She had a hint of desperation but still had enough conviction to walk away. I knew plenty of women who wouldn’t turn down five million dollars. They were all greedy. Georgie Washington didn’t have a greedy bone in her body. She was definitelytheone.
I sat down on the couch in the same exact spot where she had been sitting. It was still warm from her body and her scent lingered; something clean and fresh with a hint ofstrawberry.
“Give me her file again.” I closed my eyes and waited for either Lewis or Jenkins to bring me the thick manila folder. The difference between her and all the other candidates was that she didn’t apply for this. She had been recommended to us by my father’s friend, Paul Danville, and weapproachedher.
Asking a woman to pretend to be your fiancée wasn’t easy. We interviewed the women extensively, giving them the impression that the job was for a future position in my administration. So far, Georgie was the only woman who knew thetruth.
Jenkins handed me the folder that contained her entire life story. Georgie grew up an only child to wealthy parents. She attended the best schools and lived in the same house her entire life. She had an idyllic upbringing. But when the recession came, her father’s business crumbled because his money was tied up in an elaborate Ponzi scheme. After her father lost their family’s fortune, her mother became ill. Then fate sucker punched her when Georgie’s parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a doctor’sappointment.
“Dude, you don’t need a fiancée to win this,”DeWaynesaid.
I peered up at him over the top of my glasses. He hated politicalgamesmanship.
“That’s not what the polls say,DeWayne.”
“Fuck the polls! You have me and Avon out there, reaching out to families. The numbers will go up. You just have to giveustime.”
“That’s not good enough for me. I want that Oval, DeWayne. I wantitbad.”
DeWayne rolled his eyes at me like I was a crazy son-of-a-bitch, and I was. DeWayne could never understand my drive, my ambition. If he had, maybe I wouldn’t have kicked his ass in theprimaries.
I turned my attention back to the file and began looking through her financials, which revealed another layer of her life. Georgie was swimming in debt and her modest salary barely paid the mortgage on her family’s home. I closed the file, knowing what I had to do. She had seen right through me, right through the flaw in my plan, which both intrigued and terrified me. It was refreshing to find someone who wasn’t afraid to be honest and confront me. Very few people had the nerve to do what Georgie had done. I didn’t allow many people to get close; everyone was kept at least an arm’s length away. She had the potential to get closer, if Ilether.
Georgie wasn’t buying what my well-paid team of strategists were selling and I knew the only way she’d agree would be to return her honesty. She needed a glimpse of the real me, which I was willing to give her because I wanted to win this election. I waited a few hours, spending the time strategizing with Lewis and Jenkins, before goingafterher.
The never-ending pileof billsgreeted me when I returned home. I added three more envelopes, urgently marked “FINAL NOTICE” to the stack. I walked to the fridge and opened it, finding it seriously lacking in the two things I needed the most: alcohol and chocolate. The fridge, as well as my kitchen cupboards and the pantry, were depleted aswell.Shit.
As if some guardian angel sensed my desperation, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, the seemingly cool and aloof Jameson Martin stood in front of me looking contrite. He carried a bottle of wine in one hand and a bag filled with what smelled like Italian food dangled from the fingers ofanother.
“We need to talk,” he saidplainly.
“Well, that depends.” I eyed the bag he carried. The smell of garlic hit my nose and, like Pavlov’s dog, my mouth began towater.
“On what?” His eyebrow shot upskeptically.
“Is there dessert inthatbag?”
“Of course.” Jameson flashed me a cocky grin, as if he knew the way to my heart was paved with bakedgoods.
“Whatkind?”
“Tiramisu.”
God, this could be a match made inheaven.
“Andcheesecake.”
Dead. I was dead. Not only was Jameson handsome, but he broughttwodesserts. I seriously contemplated whether he’d get a bite ofeither.
