Chapter One
Now
“We’ve been thinking about this, Senator Samuels,” the young female staffer whose name I cannot for the life of me remember says. “And we’d like to float an item past you.”
I lean back in my chair. This ought to be good. “Yes?”
The woman looks at the guy with her—I think his name is Brad, or Bob, or something—and forges ahead. “We’d like to know if you and your husband would mind if we refer to Mr. Bruunt as FOTUS instead of FGOTUS.”
“FOTUS? Why?”
“To shorten it,” she says. “FLOTUS works well as-is, but there’s just something…odd about FGOTUS.”
“We scrapped GOTUS,” adds Brad, or Ben, or Buddy, or whatever the hell his name is. “Too…weird.”
I can see why. Let the goat jokes fly.
I’d be getting spanked damn near every night if we used that. I wouldn’t be able to resist teasing the sadist.
“And if we get ahead of this now, Senator Samuels,” the woman adds, “we can train the press.”
I toss my pen on my desk in frustration as I realize I’m not getting anything done until this is addressed to their satisfaction. “Have you asked Christopher about this? Because, honestly, it’s his call.”
“We thought protocol dictates we clear it with you first, ma’am,” she says.
I would burst out laughing—and so would Chris and Kev, if they were here with me. Protocols are Chris’ specialty, even though only the three of us know certain aspects of that little factoid about him.
Where are those two rat bastards, anyway?
These two staffers are Kev’s responsibility. They’re transition staff who will be working in the White House as aides or deputies or gophers or something come January, once I take office.
Meanwhile, I’m still a sitting US senator, until January third, when London Childers is sworn in as the newest senator from Florida and takes over my seat. She’s an Independent who’s a social liberal and a fiscal conservative, and I personally stumped for her. She’s thirty-one, has a doctorate in political science, and is the daughter of two attorneys. Her father is also currently serving his second term on the Hillsborough County Commission.
Today, I’m actually in my Senate office, trying to get a little work done.
Trying being the operative word, in more ways than one.
I’ve been here ever since I took my PDB as president-elect from intelligence officials at seven thirty this morning. Because that’s been my routine lately as I try to get shit finished.
Meaning everyone knows where I am and is stopping in with transition business I asked them to hold until this evening, when I could focus on it. I want to finish clearing the decks of these other items before December fourteenth, if at all possible. Only Kev, Chris, Lauren, and Leo are supposed to be coming in to interrupt me.
I’ve been president-elect for less than, what, three weeks, and my already high-speed life has shifted from what now feels like second gear to light-speed.
I’m whiplashed, even though I knew what to expect.
Or, I thought I knew.
You never know, it turns out.
To his credit, Fullmer’s office is fully cooperating with my transition team and getting them up to speed. I’d worried about partisan bullshit taking place, but they’ve been consummate professionals, which I will make sure gets talked about. Hopefully, it’ll help drag our government another step toward a return to true bipartisanship. I’ve asked my people to keep me posted if there’s any bullshit on Fullmer’s part, but so far, there hasn’t been.
In public, of course, I have nothing but kind words for my predecessor, no matter what. Public face for unity, and all that. I’ve also told my team that I will not tolerate anyone talking badly about Fullmer and his transition team during this process. That if there’s a problem, it gets brought to me or Kev to deal with.
Already this has earned me brownie points with more than a few moderate GOP lawmakers, several of whom have privately approached me and Kev and indicated they are open to sitting down with me to discuss common ground.
Plenty of screaming and gnashing of teeth from my Senate colleagues on the Democrat side of the aisle, but they’ll just have to suck it up and deal. I want to see good, solid legislation cross my desk. In both houses, once they swear in the newly elected members, there is now a large enough Independent and third-party contingent of lawmakers that both major parties will have to play nice if they hope to court votes to help push agendas through.
Everyone will have to work together to get anything done, or voters will rebel in the mid-terms and send incumbents home.
The public has had enough of everyone’s shit, and believe me, I’m well aware of that. Congress won’t know what to do with me because I’m going to govern more like a mid-term president than one who is just taking office. I will work with everyone—and strong-arm everyone—to get shit done.
If they thought I was a hard-ass bitch before, they ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m forty-eight and have plenty of energy in me to dig in and fight for what I believe.
Wait until my Democrat colleagues realize I won’t be giving preferential treatment to them just because of their political party. That’ll really piss them off.
If they think I’m going to rubber-stamp everything that comes out of Congress simply because they’re in the slim majority and think they can ram it through, they’re in for a rude awakening. I won’t hesitate to veto bills if there isn’t a bipartisan consensus
Or would that be tripartisan, now that so many Independents are part of the process?
Don’t know, don’t care.
All I know is that my administration has an agenda, and we will get that pushed through however it has to happen. Healthcare and infrastructure top that list. If the Republicans are on board with that, great. If not? I’ll find a way to do it without their support.
Ditto my plans for overhauling veterans benefits and military pay, so that we’re actually taking care of those who’ve given the most to serve our country. Their families shouldn’t suffer and have to work extra jobs just to make ends meet. I’ll be ordering an audit of DOD contracts to eliminate pork projects and spending so that funding actually makes it to our vets and enlisted troops. Our VA health care network should be light years ahead of where it is now.
Tweedledee and Tweedledum are still awaiting my answer.
“What about F-S for First Spouse?” I ask with a miraculously straight face, because it could also stand for First Sadist.
They look at each other, both silently sounding it out. “Just say ‘sotus,’” I clarify. “Leave the F silent.”
I have already wasted too much time on this bullshit.
Neither of them look entirely happy with that option. “It’s gender-neutral,” I add. “We could set a new tradition. It could continue on from here, whether the First Spouse is a man or a woman. Or, hell, even if they’re non-binary.”
I mean, I’d like to think as a country we will get to that point in my lifetime.
Apparently, from the looks on their faces, they hadn’t considered that.
The woman speaks. “Can we take that back to staff and run it past them for their opinions, ma’am?”
“Will it let me get back to work so I’m not here until midnight?” I snark.
She smiles, although I feel badly about the snark. “Yes, ma’am.”
I wave them out. “By all means, take it back to staff.”
Once they’ve left, I can get back to work.
Damn, I wish Kevin was here today, but he’s overseeing transition stuff, too. Going through staffing lists, working his way through all the appointments we’ll have to make to various government offices and agencies, and the hires we’ll need. He’s opted to leave some personnel in place, because they were good at their jobs and fuck partisanship.
This is a government for the whole USA. I’m not going to play stupid games with how it’s run just to put someone with a D after their name in a slot if someone with an R or I after their name was already doing a good job.
Plus, as Kev reminded me, having a cabinet made up of a mix of people will look damned good in four years and prove that I’m about the governing, not the politics.
Which I am. About the governing, I mean. Good optics are a bonus. I don’t want yes-people surrounding me. I want people who will stand up to me and be honest with me, who will challenge me, who aren’t afraid to call me out if I screw up.
Make no mistakes—I’m certain I will screw up. Any president who thinks they won’t does so at their peril.
* * * *
Once I hit a stopping point, I signal to Secret Service I’ll be ready to leave in a few minutes. We’ll head to my campaign headquarters here in DC, which are now our transition headquarters. It’ll be midnight, at least, before we return to my townhouse.
My unit is on the end of the building. Two months ago, my next-door neighbor had enough of the heavy security around our building and put their townhome up for sale. Chris purchased it through a trust we control. Now, I allow the Secret Service to use it as a security headquarters, for one dollar a day in rent, plus they pay the utilities.
When this news came out, most people hailed me as a new breed of politician actually concerned about the taxpayers, while some idiots on both far ends of the political spectrum tried to claim I was engaging in underhandedness of some sort.
Which they have yet to explain their rationale. We’ve made all the paperwork public and declared it in my financials. I’m wealthy and can afford not to soak the taxpayers for my security for my townhouse. Just because the government usually does pay for it doesn’t mean they should.
It’s good will for me from the more conservative side of the aisle, though.
Yes, I will admit it played a role in my thinking.
I was thinking ahead, too. Had I lost the election, the empty unit would allow us a sound barrier between my unit and the others in the building of four units. Kevin is still officially living in my townhouse with us, and pays rent, on paper. The public’s either ignoring that altogether, or accepting our public version that Chris and Kev were roommates.
Doesn’t matter now. Once I’m moved into the White House, Kev’s official address will remain the townhouse. I prefer that. He’ll be spending a lot of nights at the White House in secret anyway, but when he does sleep here, it means he’ll have Secret Service protection by default, due to them maintaining at the very least a skeletal staff when I’m not in residence.
Do I chafe a little under the tighter security and constant supervision?
Yes, but Chris was a genius to bring Kevin in the way he did. We’ve maintained strict diligence in public, always aware of the optics. That is Kevin’s forte, keeping us on point in that regard.
As my chief of staff, however, he’s allowed full access to me, and to Chris. That gives us private time together no one will interrupt if I tell them not to.
We just have to be damned careful around Lauren, Kevin’s ex-wife.
Who he hired to be my press secretary, and who is also in charge of our communications department.
She knows about Christopher and Kevin, and has agreed to keep that secret. But Kev misled Lauren during the campaign to make her think I’m not part of that equation. That Chris and I are beards to each other for private reasons.
I’m fine with that.
As Momma once said, don’t apologize for your dreams.
I only wish Florida State Senator Marlene Samuels could have lived long enough to see this day.
I also hope that maybe, one day, I’ll finally feel like I’ve successfully emerged from under her shadow and truly be worthy of the life I’ve built for myself.