Chapter Five
The following few days, I found myself in a blur of anger and obedience. Jason had begun to call me on my cell phone often simply to check up with me, to allow me to understand that he’s watching me all the time.
One specific night, he called me on the phone while I sat at my kitchen table, a glass of red wine resting before me.
“Hello?” I heard my voice quiver, and I felt such shame. I drank the wine quickly, feeling the tang of it against my tongue.
“Well, well. How’s the biggest slut in D.C. doing?” he asked me.
My voice grew hot. “What do you want, Jason?” I tipped my head, knowing that I couldn’t be too angry with him. Not overtly. I had to let him know that I would follow his orders; I would do whatever he wanted, as long as he allowed me to get out of this mess, eventually.
“I’m sorry. Is that a bit of sass I hear in your voice? Because you know what I can do about that.”
I swallowed, trying to quell my anger. “I’m sorry, Jason. Just a hard day. How are you doing?”
“Just fine. Just fine. I’m actually swinging up in front of your apartment. You care to come out and see me?”
I panicked. I bounced from my chair and ran toward the window. Sure enough, down on the street sat a long, stretched black limo. “That’s you in the limo?” I asked him.
“But of course. You know I only do things with style.”
In that moment, I remembered his ridiculous, ruffled shirt and his continuous unkempt appearance. I wanted to laugh. But then I remembered.
“I can come down. But only for a moment,” I stated, turning back. I grabbed my coat and pounded down the steps, my heart racing. I tried to push myself out of fear. I tried to tell myself that soon the campaign season would be over. I tried to remind myself that as long as I did his bidding, I could stay involved in the White House proceedings. I wouldn’t lose sight of my goals. Not yet.
I stepped toward the stretch limo, hearing my heels against the pavement. I blinked rapidly, trying to tell myself not to cry. I couldn’t in the face of him. I swallowed and pulled the door open, placing myself just on the inside, far away from his languid body. He was smoking a cigar, and the cigar smoke emanated throughout the cab, making me cough.
“Amanda. I hope you are well,” he said. His voice was filled with such slime.
“And I, you,” I murmured. I placed my hand over my mouth, trying not to inhale the stench. “Can I ask you why you’re at my house?”
He smiled on the other side of his cigar. “You know I’ve been here before, Amanda.”
I imagined him placing the cameras throughout my apartment, tossing his grimy hands through my fine things. I grew so angry thinking about it that I placed my nails into my skin. I penetrated too deeply, then, drawing blood.
“Anyway. I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you out here. I didn’t do it for no reason.”
“Sure, Jason. Not that it isn’t great to catch up.” I tossed him a raucous, sarcastic smile. This sarcasm seemed to please him.
“Ah, yes. Just a saucy young lady, aren’t you?”
I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t want to say anything else.
“All right. I have another request for you. Another assignment, shall we say. You do work for me now, after all.”
I tipped my head to the right. “Sure,” I murmured. I felt the words, so scratchy, coming from my throat.
“I need a private session with the president. I need you to get it for me.”
I raised my eyebrow, then. “I thought you had that authority already?” I didn’t mean this as an insult, you must understand. I truly didn’t comprehend that perhaps things weren’t going as Jason had planned in his relationship with the president.
He grunted. “Ah, yes. Well. You and the president, as those little photographs allow us to understand, have an incredible relationship. When I can’t meet with the president, you can arrange it. Is that clear?”
I nodded, swallowing. Was he—was he actually the campaign manager? I realized I had still been doing most of the responsibilities. Perhaps the president had given him a few more duties; but perhaps the president hadn’t turned to him for anything more. Perhaps their relations were strained.
I could hardly think. I reared up on my seat, turning toward him once more. “So. This meeting—it’s over?” His face broke into a sort of sad, evil smile. I suddenly realized that this man had taken advantage of me in nearly every way possible. He’d tried to ruin my life, and everything still wasn’t working so well for him. He grinned, but I saw the instability in his smile. His teeth were brown.
I got a bit daring, then, just as I placed my hand on the handle of the vehicle. “So you’re—you’re planning on meeting with the president for what reason, exactly?” I asked him, spinning my head around once more. I tapped my heel against the plastic on the side of the car.
But his face broke out into an angry grin then. He shook his head. “Ah, no. You won’t fucking ask me questions like that.” He reared up, as well, and leered toward me. “You don’t have the right to ask me things like that. I know it.”
I bowed my head, feeling so angry, so horrified. I suddenly became certain that he only wanted this meeting so that he could hang the photos over Xavier’s head. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want Xavier to know that I was being manipulated. Surely he would think that I was stronger than that. But of course, I wasn’t.
I bit my lip and pushed myself from the car, out into the street. I spun around and watched the limousine speed away. I felt my sanity dipping away as it fled.
I didn’t know how long I would be this puppet. I felt like I was going to be strung along forever. I turned back toward my apartment. When I reached the table, I poured myself the largest glass of wine of my life. I had to drink away my sorrows. I had to fall away from this existence. Perhaps in the light of the morning, I would discover another realm of possibility. I could understand what to do.