Page 7 of Presidential Bargain
Jenkins—I was sure of it now—reached into a canvas messenger bag and pulled out a phone. He pressed a few buttons and then held it out to me. I took it from him, holding it gingerly in my palm like it was a grenade. Finally, I held it up to my ear and waited for Jameson topickup.
“Lewis.” Dammit! I had been wrong. Well, now I knew for sure who I wasridingwith.
“It’s actuallyGeorgie.”
“Georgie?”
“Yes, the woman you hired to be yourfiancée.”
“I know who you are,” Jameson literally growled. “Why are youcalling?”
“Lewis said that I was going to pick out my own engagement ring. I want you todoit.”
“You do?” He soundedsurprised.
“Yes. This whole thing has been very impersonal and almost…clinical. I want to know that you at least took the time to pick it out. Even if I don’tlikeit.”
“Are you going to give me some parameters to work with, atleast?”
“Non-traditional. I wear only ethically-sourced diamonds. And if you proposed in London, then I suspect you would have picked a ring that’santique.”
“I’ll take that intoconsideration.”
“Thankyou.”
“Georgie?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t ever say that I hired you to be my fiancée again.” And then hehungup.
I stared at the phone, dumbfounded. I felt like a little girl who had just been scolded by her father. I handed the phone back to Lewis and then leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window. The world looked ominous through the dark, tinted windows, and it was a perfect metaphor for my own life. Murky. Unclear.Bleak.
“Ms. Washington?” My assigned spin doctor spoke up, his voice a littletimid.
“Yes?” I turned and looked at him, hoping he wasn’t going to admonish measwell.
“Senator Martin would like you to read over this information.” He held out a folder for me and I took it from him, practically snatching it from his hands. I flipped through the contents and it seemed to contain mostly biographical information about Jameson. I wondered who compiled the dossier on me. What else did Jameson know about me? I closed it without really reading it and held it firmly on my lap. There would be plenty of time to learn aboutJameson.
“Thank you,Lewis.”
“I’m Jenkins,ma’am.”
“I knew it!” Both of our faces transformed into silly grins and we both laughed. “Well, then help me study,Jenkins.”
By the end of the car ride, here was what I knew about Jameson Martin, my newfiancé:
He was a major in the Army and received the Bronze star for hisservice.
He ran frequently and had completed several high-profilemarathons.
He listened almost exclusively toclassicrock.
He was allergic toshellfish.
His best friend, Sean Wallace, was also his campaignmanager.
Like me, he was also an only child. However, his parents were both still alive and stillmarried.
