Chapter Ten
The next day, I rose early. My back felt so crooked from sleeping on the couch and I stretched on Rachel’s floor, listening to her as she readied herself for the day. She’d told me she’d become an editor at a publishing company—that she was finally pursuing her dreams. I wanted to proclaim that I’d thought politics was her dream. But I didn’t.
I steadied my hand as I prepared the coffee in the coffee pot, remembering that Rachel liked her coffee with just a bit of milk—no sugar. I prepared it and had it waiting for her as she tapped out of her room. Her face looked fresh; she didn’t look as tired as she had the day before. “I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable on the couch?”
I shook my head, sipping my black coffee. “Of course not.”
We shared a taxi to our workplaces. We didn’t speak; we stared out of different windows. But when we swept in front of the White House, I could feel that she was impressed. In a small way, I knew I had won. But I also knew that she didn’t know anything that I had to face in that terrorizing house; she didn’t understand that I was a puppet, in hiding.
I turned toward her while I unbuckled myself. “Thanks for letting me crash last night,” I said, flashing her a White House smile. No longer did I want to resemble that tired, weak woman who’d taken up on her couch the evening before, nearly quivering with fear. I couldn’t be that person.
I stepped into the September sunlight without waiting for her response. I flung the sunglasses up over my forehead and entered the White House, allowing the Secret Service men to pat me down in that familiar manner. I greeted them and sauntered in, knowing in my heart and in my mind that that day, I had to fulfill my promise to Jason. I had to alert the president that he wanted a meeting with him; I had to make this happen for him.
Otherwise, I was screwed.
The Secret Service agent allowed me entrance to the Oval Office, and I found Xavier speaking quietly with the vice president by the window. They both turned toward me, a bit surprised. “Hello, Amanda,” Xavier stated with such precision. “I believe you’ve met Raymond.”
I nodded graciously and extended my hand, allowing the sour man before me to place his lips on my skin. I quivered. “So good to see you again.”
Xavier nodded toward Raymond and continued. “I think we can wrap that up with them on our next trip to China. Don’t you?”
“As long as they don’t cook that terrible food again,” Raymond chortled, laughing at his own joke. He spun from the room. I watched as his upper body seemed to bulge from its shirt.
Xavier turned toward me as the door closed, and I felt the tension between us brimming. He was waiting for me to say something, but I had suddenly forgotten why I’d needed to see him in the first place. Think, Amanda! Think!
But then, finally, he sighed. “All right, Amanda. I see you’ve come to see me, instead of me having to summon you. What a nice change of pace.” His voice was a bit tactful, but his smile was warm. I accepted it graciously.
“Xavier, I’m afraid I have a question for you,” I began, steamrolling down my required conversation once more. I felt my stomach begin to curdle a bit with nerves. “Jason would like a private meeting with you, Mr. President,” I stated, trying to hide any drop of emotion in my voice. “He’s assured me that it’s completely confidential and absolutely imperative.”
Xavier raised his eyebrow toward me, unsure. He sat at his desk, tapping his nose with his long finger. “And why do you think Jason wants to see me, Amanda?”
“I’m certainly not the one to ask,” I answered, feeling my heart racing in my chest. I felt like I was either going to die on the carpet or run out of there screaming. I held my ground, somehow.
“You aren’t the one to ask?” the president murmured. “I find that highly unlikely.”
I swallowed. The whole thing was messy, and I knew it. I wanted the president to be safe from the knowledge of the photographs. I had no idea what Jason was up to. But I knew I couldn’t trust him; I couldn’t allow him to ruin this presidency. “Just promise you’ll stand your ground with him?” I whispered.
Xavier stood up, alarmed. He seemed nearly angry, and I wanted to take it back—to yield the fact that I didn’t think he was a weak president, that he could certainly hold his own. But Xavier saw the expression of fear on my face, and he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took a step back, toward the window. “Have dinner with me tonight, Amanda,” he stated, looking at me as if I were an injured dog.
I bowed my head, knowing that I could not. This went against the entire plan. I couldn’t grow close to the president once more. There was too much at stake. “I’m sorry, Xavier. You know I can’t do that.” This was all I could say.
But Xavier spun around the desk in a simple motion, stepping toward me. His nose was mere inches from mine, and I felt his breath hot against my lips. I closed my eyes, trying not to give in to temptation. But instead of kissing me, he began to whisper: “I need to know what’s going on with you. With everything.” His eyes were searching around the room haphazardly. “The evening will be secure. No one will know about it. Is that clear?”
My body felt all wrong, like my joints were in the wrong places. I swallowed, knowing then that Xavier suspected something. But I didn’t want him to know about any of it; I had to keep it all a secret. And so I swallowed. And I agreed that I could have dinner with him. Just one dinner. I would flirt. I would smile. And then, at the end of the night, I wouldn’t have to date him again. And he wouldn’t be any wiser about the photographs.