POWER #2
Chapter One
Jason, in a supreme, suave motion, swept the photos back into a folder, looking pleased with himself. I felt a single tear rushing down my cheeks as I gaped at him. The silence emanated between us.
He raised his eyebrow. “I can assure you that I’ve kept these photos to myself.” His ruffled shirt was tucked into his pants half-heartedly, like he’d been too excited about proving to me that he was above me, that he had my number—too excited to even tuck in his shirt appropriately.
“Why did you keep them? You could ruin me. You could ruin him,” I whispered.
Jason scoffed. “Of course. And you think I want that? To completely ruin you?” He cackled, tossing his head back. There was something so slimy about his laugh—something that didn’t make me so fearful. Rather, it made me want to cover my nose, like he was something foul-smelling that had been stuffed down my throat.
I wasn’t sure how to argue with him—how to reason with him. I cleared my throat. “Then what’s your angle, here?” I asked him, gesturing toward the folder. “Why would you come to me with these photos?” The images were still burned in my head: the images of me on that table, of his body over mine. I shivered. The worst thing that could ever happen had happened: I’d had an affair with the president and I’d been caught on camera.
“You mean—why did I place cameras in your apartment to catch this sure, brimming affair between you and the president?” he asked me. He cackled once more, leaning over his desk. I could smell his breath.
“I could turn you in—“ I began, so angry. “I could turn you in for—for breaking and entering—“
He laughed again, sniffing. “You really are hilarious,” he cackled. “Brains, humor, and beauty. No wonder the president wanted to fuck your brains out.”
I felt like punching him, then. I righted myself, no longer feeling like a victim. I wanted to kick this guy’s ass. “If you want to verbally abuse me with these photos, then have at me and let me get the fuck out of here,” I said, my mind rushing. I knew that he had done this only because I hadn’t agreed to go on a date with him; I knew that he’d done this only because I had power over him. He wasn’t comfortable with it. He was rogue.
But he shook his head, ruffling his hand over his chin. “No, no. I want so much more than that. Sure, a jab here and there. But I think that I can use you, Amanda. And here, all this time, you thought that you could use me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked him, my breath coming hot. I’d thought that Jason was a good worker; I’d actually been considering him for a promotion. I wanted to take him up with me. Xavier had stated that I would eternally have a job at the White House. And thus, I wanted to take all my people with me, to the top.
He leaned still closer to me. “I’m going to use you, Amanda. I’m going to use you better than this cunt president we have used you. I’m going to force you to take me to the top—to even push me ahead of you. You have the president under your thumb, so to speak. And I’m the only one who knows about it.”
My anger grew in me at an alarming rate. I felt myself push my hands forward and grab the folder from his hands. I brought those terrible photos into the light and I started to rip at them voraciously, feeling their vitality splinter away in my hands. I wanted to scream out, and I felt my throat so hot, so raspy. “Goddamn you,” I called to him.
This wouldn’t be the way he got anywhere. I could destroy these photos. I wouldn’t let him kick me to the bottom—not after all that I’d been through. I’d worked my way to the top for a purpose. I hadn’t worked so far just for fine dinners with the president, for raucous flings on my kitchen table with the most powerful man in the world. I couldn’t help what I felt for that man, but this had nothing to do with my need and desire for power.
I ripped and tore at the photos, flinging them to the trash can. I brought my hand into my purse and brought out a small matchbook. With my eyes on Jason, I snapped the match over the match box and watched the light spring up into the air. I dropped it into the fire, over the gleaming photos. Together, for only a moment, we watched the fire begin.
But Jason had begun to laugh once more. I looked up toward him and watched how the fire flickered in his eyes. His teeth were so white, so bright. I could see his tongue lolling around in his mouth.
I stood there, stupidly, with the fire still burning between us. It had eaten the paper, and it had begun to char the interior tin. I held my hands over my stomach and blinked at him for several moments.
Finally, he spoke. He leaned against his hands, over the desk, and coughed. “Darling, darling. If you thought I didn’t have these digitally backed up, you’re a lot stupider than I initially assumed.”
My heart burned.
I realized how rash, how dumb I’d been. I was usually so certain of each of my actions, but I’d lost my head in the previous few weeks. I swallowed as he continued.
“No matter how many of these photos you rip up and burn in my trash can, these photos can still get out to the public. You’ll ruin our president’s life if you don’t cooperate with me. What’s more, you’ll be deemed the slut of the White House. No one wants to hear that the president’s been sleeping with his campaign manager. What a scandal.” He ticked his tongue against the top of his mouth, his eyes still glittering from the fire.
I spun around, then, feeling the tears running hot and steady down my face. I pushed through the door and began running through the familiar hallways, back toward my desk. A small girl—one of the campaign workers—rushed toward me with a phone pressed to her chest. Her eyes were wide. “Amanda! I have a very important question for you—“
But I held up my hand, shaking my head. “I have a terrible migraine, Denise,” I whispered, placing my hand on my head. “Please. Give me—give me just a moment.”
Denise looked at me with a gaped expression on her face. She wasn’t sure what to do, I knew, but I wasn’t cut out for this anymore. Not now. I had done too much—I’d nearly ruined the entire operation.
I caught my cardigan around my bony shoulders and I grabbed my bag. In the dark hallway, back toward the Oval Office, I saw Xavier suddenly. He peeked out of his office, like he was watching me from afar. His shadow was so dark. I felt my body shiver with longing for him. But I knew—I knew everything had to stop. It had to stop dead. He didn’t know what was at stake.
I ran toward the steps, turning away from the president. I could still feel his eyes on me as I fled. The tears continued as I rushed into a taxi and told the driver to take me the fuck home.