Chapter Four
I finished the remainder of the day answering emails, barking the occasional order. It was clear that Jason would eventually make the announcement that he was above me soon. But I didn’t want to make the announcement yet. I wanted to dwell in the remainder of my high status before everything came crashing down.
I ended my day rather early, however, wanting to get out of there. Again, I brought my cardigan around my body and scurried away from the White House—the very home in which I’d felt so sure of myself, just weeks before. When I’d interviewed with Xavier. When I’d wanted him, all the while knowing that I could never, in a million years, have him.
A million years had happened since then, of course.
I hailed a taxi and collapsed into it, still thinking about Jason. I hated that after a few days of thinking only about love, I was now rooted in the comprehension of hatred. I just wanted revenge on this man. I wanted to find my way through his terror and come out on top. But I didn’t know how.
As we zoomed away from the White House, I had a sudden idea. I called up to the taxi driver. “Sir? Could we stop at the monuments? I—I want to take a walk.” I swallowed. I hadn’t taken time to myself like this in years and years: time in which I was meant to reflect, to enjoy my life. In this moment of sheer rage, I knew I needed to take a moment to appreciate everything.
The taxi stopped at the outset of the great park. I paid him extra to wait for me, and I bounced into the open air. It was September, and summer was filtering away from us. I could smell the winter in the air. For some reason, I could taste Christmas cookies; I could imagine the holiday season.
I neared the Washington Monument then, shoving my hands into my pockets. I sighed before it, remembering that eternally, this monument gave me such promise. Now, it simply gave me peace from all the sadness lurking in my mind. The great spear reflected across the water, signifying all the history pulsing beneath the surface of this Washington D.C. earth.
I remembered that in the past, when I’d faltered—if only for a moment—I’d been able to turn to my roving brain in order to come up with a plan. But there, in front of the Washington Monument, I couldn’t feel anything in my mind but despair. I reached into my pocket and brought out a quarter. Washington’s face glinted at me, but nothing lurked beneath his eyes. I tossed the coin into the water, feeling at a loss for my future.
I turned back and ran toward the taxi, feeling such desire in my soul. For something. For what? I needed the president to love me, to want me. And in some ways, I knew he did. But I needed so much more, as well.
It was like I was meant to choose between evil and good. It was like choosing between my wants and needs. It was like I was pressed against the wall without any air pulling into my lungs, just grasping and gasping.
“Take me home,” I whispered to the taxi driver as I lurched into the great vehicle, feeling my body quivering. “Take me home.”
The following days at the office seemed to pass without notice. I began to get used to the feeling of being under someone’s thumb—something that I never thought I would think, truly. But I passed by Jason’s desk every day and began to grow used to his leering smile; I began to understand that he was just a man utilizing me as a pawn. This was something that had been done all throughout history, without fail. I was sure that George Washington himself had even used people as pawns in the past. It was a matter of course on your way to the top.
Three days after I’d recommended Jason for the higher-up position, I received a call on my desk phone.
“Amanda?” the voice said.
I realized I hadn’t seen Xavier in a number of days, not since I’d recommended Jason. I swallowed.
“Mr. President. Would you like me to alert the campaign leader?”
“No, Amanda. I’d like to see you in my office.”
I swallowed, peering at my computer. It was so bright before me. It was like I couldn’t hear anything anymore, like I was alone in this raucous world of politics.
“Amanda. Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” I whispered. But I could hardly hear myself.
“Please, Amanda. Come to my office.” The voice was nearly pleading. It was ringed with some sort of despair.
I hung up the phone without answering and stood, tugging at my dress once more. I began walking toward the edge of the room. I felt Jason’s eyes on me. He looked at me so in a snarky manner—revealing to me that he was my superior. I allowed my eyes to graze over him. I knew that the president’s call was about more than the escalation of Jason’s career. I knew it was about our relationship—about the undercurrent of our normal conversation. I still had so many, many feelings for him. My stomach turned and I quickened my step.
Another Secret Service agent stood outside the Oval Office door, standing tall. I stopped before him, without speaking. The man turned the handle and allowed me to enter.
Outside, it was a grey September day. I sniffed and tapped in, noting that the president had turned the chair away from me, toward the window. He was looking at the rain.
Before I could speak, he interrupted my thoughts. “Quite a bleak day, Amanda,” he stated. His voice was gruff.
“Yes,” I quivered. “It certainly is.”
He swung around, then. His fingers were laced together. He looked very much like a cartoon version of a world leader. He gestured forward, offering me the seat before him once more.
“Is there something wrong with the campaign?” I asked him.
But he just waved his hand before his face, shaking his nose with an almost imperceptive movement. “There’s nothing wrong. Both you and Jason seem to be doing a stunning job. Truly.”
I sat, hearing my knees creak a bit. I knew that the stress was getting to me. I swallowed, feeling the strained sexual tension between us once more. “So. What’s the deal, then?” I was challenging him, trying to comprehend what was going on in his head.
Xavier brought his hands apart and placed them before him, on the desk. He flexed them slightly. “Well. The thing of it is, Amanda. I’m quite worried about you.”
I swallowed. “Worried about me?”
He nodded. “The woman I met all those weeks ago—the woman I came to grow fond of, let’s say, would never have quit this. Would never have given this position off to another man.” He shrugged, then. “She wouldn’t have allowed this to happen.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I can assure you, sir. I can assure you that—“
But he interrupted me. His voice was soft. “Amanda. I want you to be happy; I don’t want what happened between us the other evening to interrupt your career. I told you before: your life is set here. You have a job whenever you need it. This path is yours.”
I bowed my head. “I understand that, Xavier. I’m just—I’m in shock about what happened between us. You have to understand that.”
He tipped his head to the right, trying to gage me. “You haven’t grown close to anyone recently, have you?”
I didn’t know what to say. Of course I hadn’t grown close to anyone. I’d been married to my career. My career was the only reason I’d gotten this far: all the way to the Oval Office, playing the part of the other woman. “I haven’t,” I murmured.
He nodded, then. “I understand how you must feel about all of this, of course. I understand that this is a lot to take in—that every day here must be filled with stress. Of course, you must understand that I feel the stress, too.”
I nodded. I gazed at his solid expression. His eyes locked with mine. He felt like home; he felt like the only person I had ever trusted.
“I had a great time with you the other night, regardless of the stress,” he began again. He looked at me with such passion. “I know that it’s awkward for you; I know that it might be too much to ask. But I’d love to get together with you again. It’s only with you—with you, Amanda—that I feel good about myself.”
My head was spinning. Was the President of the United States really saying this to me, right then? I didn’t know what to do.
He began again. “Know that I think about you all the time—that you are an essential part of my being. I want you to be with me, Amanda. Please.” He tipped his head forward once more. “Just one more date.” His smile skirted across his face, like he was playing a game with me. I wanted to laugh.
But then I remembered the photos; I remembered the sheer scandal. I knew that Jason could hold this higher and higher above my head, until suddenly I was dangling beneath it, killing myself.
I shook my head slowly, still feeling like I was about to tear up. I felt such passion in his presence, like I could find true happiness with him. But I needed to rid the thoughts from my mind. “Xavier. I appreciate the sentiment,” I began. My voice was strained. “I appreciate it a great deal. But I can’t—I can’t go with you.” His eyes looked so strained. “You have to understand that it’s not personal,” I continued. “You have to know that it’s just—it’ s just because there’s so much going on right now, you know. There’s the campaign—“
But he just waved his hand to the side, like he was brushing off the existence of his own campaign. He stood up, showing me that muscled, taut body. He ran his smooth fingers down his suit. “If that’s your answer for now, I accept it. But only for now.” He brought his hand over the desk and caught my hand in his, shaking it. I felt such tension between us. I half wanted him to grab me by the waist, to toss me on the desk before him. There, in the Oval Office, I imagined that we’d fuck on the desk, against the window—calling out to all the campaign workers down the hall with such passion.
But I shook his hand, instead, allowing the feeling to pass.
I spun around. My long, brunette locks coursed down my back. I knew that he was watching me, looking after me. I turned my head back, still feeling that bit of daring energy in me. “You know. Don’t give up on me, Xavier. You know where my office is.” I winked at him.
But suddenly, I felt it: the lurch, the fear in my chest for what was going on outside. As I exited the Oval Office, I could nearly feel Jason’s grasp on my neck. As I tapped by his desk, I could feel his eyes on me. I wanted to spit at him, to tell him he was not only keeping me from the man I felt such passion for, he was also keeping me from doing my job the way I pleased.
I shook my head at him as I passed, unperceptively beginning a war with him in my mind.
You will pay, I thought.