Page 1 of Presidential Bargain
“I’m sorry,you want meto do what?” I asked, probably for thefifthtime.
There were three men sitting in front of me. Two were named Lewis and Jenkins. It was hard to tell them apart because they looked identical in their black suits, slim ties, shiny black loafers, and mirrored looks of exasperation. Therefore, I had no idea who was who. I didn’t even know if Lewis and Jenkins were their first or last names. They were political spin doctors hired to fix aproblem.
The third man was DeWayne West, the running mate of the current Democratic presidential nominee. He was a tall, African-American man who had gorgeously dark skin and mischievous golden brown eyes. He was a good ol’ Southern boy who greeted me warmly with his too-large hands and blindingly white smile. He made me feel at ease, while Lewis and Jenkins made meanxious.
“Listen, the Republican candidate is a family man. He has like eleventy billion kids that he and his wife adopted. This is crushing us in the polls because the public loves it. They’re eating it up,” one of the spin doctorsinformedme.
I looked beyond them, toward the tall figure at the far end of the hotel suite who stood resolutely near a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. He was listening in on our conversation but wasn’ttakingpart.
“And you don’t think the sudden appearance of a fiancée will look suspicious?” It was hard to believe no one had thought of this. That no one inside a presidential campaign would speak up and say, “The American public won’t buy it.” But what did I know? I was just a high school teacher from a tiny town in NewHampshire.
“We will handle that. We can spin anything to ouradvantage.”
I diverted my gaze between the three men who sat on thecouch.
“Well, apparently, you can’t spin a bachelor as the next President of the United States of America.” I was giving them too much grief, I knew it. I don’t know why I was being so incredulous when, in reality, this would be a mutually beneficialarrangement.
“Do you want the fucking money or not?” The man who had seemed so patient, who had listened attentively as they questioned me, now roared. Jameson Martin, the Democratic presidential candidate, had officially lost his shit. His deep, raspy voice boomed in the nearly empty suite and I could feel his heated glareonme.
Money. Did I want the money? Of course I wanted the money. But I could survive without it. I knew what it was like to live with five million dollars and I knew what it was like to live without. I didn’t need it to live a happy life, but Ididneed it if I wanted to continue living in my childhood home, with things like heat, electricity, and water. And if I wanted to eat more than just ramen noodles and spaghetti. I needed it to pay off a mortgage and credit card debt and medicalbills.
But…I wasn’t finished negotiating. I looked in his direction, fixed my gaze right on him, and with one raised eyebrow, said, “I have one request before Iagree.”
“What is it?” The spin doctors were all too eager for me to acquiesce. If I asked for ten million, I was sure they would have found a way for Jameson Martin toagree.
“Ifyouwin—”
“When I win,” Jameson cut incoolly.
I conceded, rolling my eyes. “Fine.Whenyou win, I want to pick the Secretary ofEducation.”
“Absolutely not!” He snorted and then gave me a condescending smirk. “We pay a lot of money for the very best education experts to advise us on our policy. I’m not going to leave the decision to pick the next Secretary of Education up to a…” He stopped when he saw the look of shock on my face. I knew exactly what he was going tosaynext.
“You’re not going to leave the decision to whom? To a teacher? Why? Because heaven forbid, I pick someone who has actually spent time in theclassroom?”
“That’s not what I was goingtosay.”
“That’sexactlywhat you were going to say! Education is something I’m very passionate about and if you’re going to pretend to be my fiancé, don’t you think you should know that about me? Every First Lady has a platform, so it’s likely that mine will beeducation.”
I sat back on the sofa, crossing my arms over my chest defensively, and looked at each one of them. They all had the same expression on their faces. Like I was bat-shit crazy. Like they didn’t expect me to actuallybethe First Lady. Clearly, this was not something they haddiscussed.
“You really didn’t think this through, did you?” I smirked, astonished by their lack of foresight. That was why they thought I was insane. They didn’t think whomever they picked would actually become the First Lady! I burst out laughing. Crazy, maniacal laughter, because it was trulyhilarious.
“What?” all of them askedsimultaneously.
“Did you really think, once you were elected, you could just break up with me? Or whomever you chose?” The laughter continued to bubble out of me. “Un-fucking-believable.”
I grabbed my purse, which sat at my feet, and stood. “Good luck with the campaign, SenatorMartin.”
I stormed through the suite, my eyes firmly set on the door, when a strong hand latched onto my bicep, bringing me to a halt. A large mass of broad chest appeared in front of me and I looked up into an icy blue gaze that was filled with a white-hotheat.
“I’m not a very good man. I don’t have very much patience for anyone or anything. I’ve screwed around and I’m well-aware of what my opponent is saying about me. It’s all pretty much true. However, I do love my country. I have dedicated over half of my life to serving it, and I’ll be damned if I let something like a wife stand inmyway.”
“Then you should find someone else. Goodbye.” I pulled my arm free of his vice-like grip and left, slamming the door behind me. I paused in the hallway to calm my trembling nerves andshakinglegs.
Did I really just give up the chance to be the First Lady of the United States ofAmerica?
“FUCK!”I roared as soonas she left. No doubt she was still in the hallway and could hear myoutburst.
