Page 60 of Presidential Bargain
I heard her suck in a breath. I knew she didn’t want to talk to me, but it had been three days. I gave her some space and I was like a junkie, craving her, craving our connection. I needed my fix. I needed to hear hervoice.
“Jameson. Why are youcalling?”
“I just needed to know thatyou’reokay.”
“I’m fine.” That was a lie because if she felt a fraction of what I felt, then Georgie was not fine. Nothing about this whole fucked up situationwasfine.
“Are you still wearingmyring?”
“Of course, Jameson.” Her voice hitched and I heard a whimper of a sob escape from theotherend.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Georgie.Sosorry.”
“Iknow.”
“I’m not sure I can do this anymore. I’m not sure I want to do this without you. Being the president means nothing if you’re not therewithme.”
“Jameson, you need to win. You have to win. This country desperatelyneedsyou.”
“What about you, Georgie? Do youneedme?”
There was a pause. Too long for my own comfort. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’then.”
“Jameson.” My name came out on an exhale ofbreath.
“Will you be at the thirddebate?”
“Yes. I’ll bethere.”
“Good.”
Sean tapped on the carwindow.
“I need to go. I’ll call youtomorrow.”
“Jameson!” My name came out as an admonishmentthistime.
“There’s no point in telling me ‘no’, Georgie. I need you, even if you don’t need me.” I cleared my throat. “Goodbye,Georgie.”
I love you, I said wordlessly as Ihit“END”.
I signaled to Sean that my conversation was over. He opened the door and slid in nexttome.
“I’m going to win her back, and I’m going to convince America that they need to voteforme.”
“And how do you propose todothat?”
“By destroying Governor Lamar Huntley and his bastard son.” I slipped my earbuds into my ears and scrolled through the albums on my phone. I selected another band that Georgie added for me. The Killers. I lost myself in their poundingrhythm.
I carefully studied each eventthat occurred after Georgie officially became a part of my life. My poll numbers surged after we announced our engagement and after the subsequent campaign events. Russell Atlee attacked shortly after, and when the photos of Georgie’s assault were leaked, the intent was to tank our campaign. Thatbackfired.
Opposition super PACs ran ad after ad against her, spreading lies about her father, about her. I remember finding her crying silently in a hotel room, the television on in front of her blasting an advertisement proclaiming her father was the one responsible for the Ponzi scheme and was facing prosecution. I turned it off and took her to bed. I told her once not to pay attention tothatshit.
After another wave of riding high in the polls, one of Sierra Simmons’ assistants was mysteriously paid to not only record us, but then leak the video. It seemed that whomever was behind the leak knew our schedule. That suggested a leak in my own campaign. But my campaign didn’tcrumble.
More super PAC ads accused Georgie of being some kind of Washington whore, falsely claiming that she was some kind of party girl. The ads were so terrible, they were a joke. And after the first debate, they stopped running. I suspected the governor had something to do with shutting downthoseads.
These latest allegations, that I was paying high-end escorts to sleep with me, was planned once again after a surge by our campaign. Any idiot could easily connect the dots. The right was scared they were going to lose and needed to make shit up because none of their other ammunition was sticking. I was made of Teflon, but I was afraid that Georgie leaving the campaign, possibly even leaving me, would finallystick.
