Page 37 of Presidential Bargain
“Why?” I didn’t like the idea of Georgie being anywhere without me, even with Avon West, who was an amazingwoman.
“To be honest, when you’re both together, it’s kind of distracting,” Jenkins practically whispered. He looked around for backup, but everyone seemed to back awayfromhim.
“Distracting,how?”
“It’s like watching the new Kennedys. Or, at least, that’s what the media is saying. It’s all they talk about. The new John and JackieKennedy.”
“So, once again, we’re back to my relationship status taking away from my ability to be the next president? Now that I have a First Lady, no one cares about my experience andpolicies?”
“Pretty much,” Lewis and Jenkins saidsimultaneously.
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” I muttered. This stupid, fucking arrangement was supposed to end all the bullshit about my personal life. Now, Lewis and Jenkins were telling me that my personal life was still the hotbed of speculation andconjecture.
“Fine. Get her set up with Avon. DeWayne and I will hit the campaign trailseparately.”
“Wait, why does my marriage have to suffer now?” DeWayne spoke up, looking between Lewis andJenkins.
“DeWayne, we need to get back out there hard. It’s all about divide and conquer. I’ve lost so much time dealing with the Russell Atlee bullshit. I need to refocus, especially with the first debate coming up in a week. Help me out,please.”
I sounded like I was convincing DeWayne but, in reality, I had to convince myself. I thought myself capable of having a real relationship with Georgie, but there were too many setbacks, too many disruptions to the schedule. I needed to get back in front of the people again, to remind them of all the reasons why I was the bestchoice.
We spent the next few hours reworking the schedule, trying to rebook some of the events that were previously cancelled. It would be grueling, but it had to be done. DeWayne and I had to be the face of this campaign again. We had to get back the message, whatever thatmessagewas.
The group dispersed to their hotel rooms and I returned to my bedroom. Georgie was still sleeping, but I had work to do. I grabbed my suitcase and began packing; I would be leaving in a few hours, to be at my first event bright and early thenextday.
“Where are you going?” Georgie’s voice was soft and still filled with the grogginess ofsleep.
“We made some changes to the schedule. I have to leavetonight.”
“Schedule changes? You’re leaving?” She was sitting up in bed, her face scrunched up inconfusion.
I moved around the room quickly, ignoring her when I should have stopped to sit with her and explain the situationbetter.
“Yes. DeWayne and I are going to Indianapolis. You’re going to spend the week with Avon. Jenkins will be with you the whole week. He has the newschedule.”
“But I don’t wantJenkins.”
“Fine. Lewis can stay with you.” I could hear the impatience in my ownvoice.
“I don’t want Lewiseither.”
“Then whatdoyou want, Georgie?” I snapped at her. I finally stopped and looked at her. Her face was flushed from sleep, her hair was messy, but her eyes gutted me, wide and so full of hurt andbetrayal.
“Never mind. It’s clear that what I want doesn’t matter.” Her voice was just above a whisper. She climbed out of the bed, shoving the covers away, and stormed into the bathroom, locking the doorbehindher.
I sighed. I walked over to the door and knocked. “Georgie, letmein.”
“Go away,” sheresponded.
I could hear her sniffling. I persisted, knocking until she finally openedthedoor.
“I need my toiletry bag,” I said, faced with her tear-stained face. I felt like such a dick, treating herthisway.
Georgie stood back, away from the door, and I stepped inside, grabbing the black leather case from the countertop. I placed it inside my suitcase, closed it, and turned back toward the bathroom. Georgie stood in the doorway, illuminated from behind like a broken angel. She was dressed only in her bra and panties, an innocent looking white lace set. She crossed her arms protectively across her chest, like she was somehow protecting her heart from me. She looked down at her feet, which she shuffled nervously. Finally, she looked up at me, her expressiondefeated.
“What did I do?” she asked quietly, her voice a crackedwhimper.
“Nothing,” I said honestly. I set my suitcase next to the bedroom door and walked back to the bathroom. She fidgeted in the doorway, looking up at me with big green eyes that were so full of confusion and sadness. “I just need to refocus right now, get back on the trail. I have to make up for all of the events wecanceled.”
