Georgie
Tom Clayton was all over the news. Jameson had banned him for ninety days, but everyone knew that really meant, “Don’t come back again.” And now that he was no longer in the White House press pool, he was free to say whatever he wanted. Apparently, he had a lot to tell the world about my relationship with Jameson. In the era of “fake news,” there were plenty of people willing to buy everything that Tom Clayton was selling.
“Listen, everyone in Washington knows his reputation,” he spewed one night. I was alone in the private residence because Jameson was away. When Jameson is away, Georgie…will apparently watch late-night garbage television while eating a sheet pan of cake.
Pictures of Jameson and the escorts from the dinner he had with a few other Democratic senators flashed on the screen. Those were all lies, but was anyone on the television saying that? Nope.
“He makes a big deal out of protecting Ms. Washington, but only had me kicked out of the White House because he has secrets to hide! The Republicans know it. They tried to get Elias Garcia to poke the bear, but he’s obviously a RINO; Republican in name only.”
“So what’s really going on at the White House?” The host was a catty bitch, making this awful game of charades last even longer.
“He’s insulating himself so he can have his way with whomever he wants, and he’s getting rid of anyone who might stir the pot. He doesn’t want the first lady to know what happens in the Oval Office behind closed doors.”
“Really? Are you implying that the president isn’t faithful to Ms. Washington?”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just looking at the facts and putting two and two together. Have you seen his deputy press secretary?”
A picture of Lauren flashed on the screen, and I admit that my own insecurities bubbled to the surface whenever I was around her. She was beautiful, but I knew where Jameson’s loyalties lie.
My phone rang, rousing me from my somewhat drowsy state, and I picked it up without looking. My heart hoped for Jameson. If I was miserable sitting in bed and eating cake, then I wanted to hear the deep, soothing tones of his velvety voice. “Turn that shit off,” he told me over and over. Instinctively, I reached for the remote and turned off the television.
“Hello,” I said brightly.
“Hello, Georgie.” The voice was male, but didn’t belong to Jameson. It was Max.
“Hi, Max,” I replied.
“I just saw the interview with Tom Clayton, and I wanted to check and see how you were doing.”
This was exactly what I wanted from Jameson. Why wasn’t he calling and saying the same thing? “I’m fine. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s just angry that Jameson kicked him out of the White House.”
“These are some pretty serious accusations, Georgie.”
“None of them are true. Jameson and I have been through this before. He’s making up a bunch of lies and none of them will stick.”
“Then why don’t you sound confident?”
I sighed heavily. I was not about to go down this road with him. “Jameson is out of town, and I’m tired. I also just ate an entire cake. How am I supposed to feel?”
Max laughed softly. “All right, if you say so. I was just calling to tell you that I’m heading overseas in a few days. You might not be able to visit Finland without Jameson, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go.”
Disappointment filled me. I should be going on that trip too. But Jameson and his stupid misplaced jealousy kept me trapped in this damn cage.
“Oh. I didn’t know that. Enjoy your trip, and I look forward to hearing about it when you get back.”
“You should just come with me, Georgie.”
“You know I can’t. Jameson is out of the country right now, and I wouldn’t feel right leaving while he’s gone.”
“You’re an adult, you know? You’re capable of making your own decisions and doing whatever you want. It’s not like he’s your husband.”
But that was how I saw him; Jameson was my partner and my husband in every way, except the legally binding way. He was everything to me, and even though what Max said was technically true—I was capable of making my own decisions and doing what I wanted—I didn’t want to risk what I had with Jameson for the sake of my own personal ambition.
“I hear what you’re saying, and you’re right, but that’s not how things work for me and Jameson. Enjoy your trip. Thank you for calling.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when that conversation was over. At times, Max was persuasive and overbearing. The longer I talked to him, the more opportunity he had to convince me to join him.
With one final sad glance at my phone, willing it to ring so that Jameson’s voice could fill me before the end of the night, I reached over and turned off the light. It was only one night. Tomorrow, he’d call, and I’d feel better.
Except Jameson didn’t call the next night either. Or the night after that. He was away, ruling the world, and I had to watch him on the news. Self-doubt started to creep in. Why wasn’t I invited on this trip? As the first lady, shouldn’t I be there with him? This wasn’t his first international visit, and I had gone on a few previous trips with him, but they weren’t long; only a week. This trip was a big deal and scheduled to last a few weeks.
“Girl, you look like a mess,” Avon commented when she arrived at the White House a few days later. We were hosting a science fair with some of the brightest and most inventive students from around the country.
On top of “looking like a mess,” I felt like shit. I was queasy and nauseous. I couldn’t stomach my usual hearty breakfast. I turned toward a giant gilded mirror and studied my complexion. I was pale, and there were bags under my eyes. My hair looked dull and flat. Absently, I ran a hand through it.
“Jameson hasn’t called to check in,” I informed her.
“Does he normally?”
“Yes. If he’s away, then he usually calls me every day, at some point. Since he’s been gone, I haven’t heard a word from him.”
“Well, this is a pretty big trip. He’s trying to accomplish a lot. I’ve seen the agenda, and it’s pretty ambitious.”
“What? You know what this trip is all about?” I worked my bottom lip back and forth between my teeth. This made me feel even shittier. Not only had Jameson not called me since he left, but Avon seemed to know more than I did.
“Yeah. DeWayne and I talked about it before they left. Nuclear disarmament; trying to get some of these hardline rulers to own up to their human rights atrocities. Africa, Asia, and Australia, all in one go.”
I was stunned. Jameson was halfway around the world, and each day that passed without talking to him, the ache in my chest festered until the first tiny crack formed.
“Have you talked to DeWayne since they left?”
“Briefly. They’re super busy. I don’t know why they didn’t take Bart with them. He’s much more effective at communicating with the public than Lauren is.”
“Lauren went?” Flashbacks of Tom Clayton’s comments popped in my mind. He’d implied they were having an affair, but I was so confident in Jameson. Cracks were starting to form in more than just my heart.
“Yep. She’s seriously the most inefficient person to handle communication. I don’t know why Jameson hasn’t fired her yet.”
Because she’s blowing him in the Oval Office, I thought to myself.
“Come on, Georgie. We’ve got some kids to entertain.”
But it was hard to focus on the science fair and all the amazing projects and inventions that the students were so enthusiastically showing off because all I could think about was Jameson and Lauren. Every intimate moment Jameson and I shared together, my twisted brain mentally replaced my face with hers. The thought of him holding her and making love to her made me physically ill.
“Excuse me,” I said apologetically to a parent before rushing to the closest bathroom.
I slouched against the wall of the bathroom, dripping in sweat and shaking.
A loud knock on the bathroom door startled me. “Ma’am, are you okay?” I sighed; it was just one of the agents assigned to me.
“I’m fine. Thank you,” I choked out.
“Should we alert the president, ma’am?”
Fuck no, I wanted to shout. “No. I’m fine.”
The agent didn’t respond, and I waited patiently for the nausea to subside. After blotting my face with a hand towel and smoothing out my hair, I opened the door and was face to face with Avon.
“Get back in there,” she commanded me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, as she ushered me back inside and then locked the door.
“Are you pregnant?”
“What? No.” I couldn’t be pregnant. I was taking my birth control religiously, but then…. Oh, shit. I had been so busy recently that I didn’t schedule an appointment with my new OB/GYN to have my prescriptions refilled. That had been a few weeks ago. And despite Jameson being constantly in demand as the president, he always found time to get what he needed.
“Maybe?” I finally relented.
“Let’s call the White House medical staff. I’m sure they’ve got a pregnancy test around here ’cause I do not need to be photographed walking out of CVS with a pink box labeled First Response or some shit like that.”
Two hours later, I was sitting in an exam room with Avon, stunned.
“Well, how far along?” I asked, like an idiot.
“The test can’t tell me that, Ms. Washington. Sorry,” the nurse replied.
I was speechless and scared and also really, really angry because Jameson was so far away and hadn’t bothered to call.
“Okay. I’ll call my OB and make an appointment then.” The nurse left Avon and I alone in the most uncomfortable silence.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to fucking Finland with Max.”
“That’s not what I expected you to say,” Avon said.
It was split-second decision and one entirely made of anger and fear. “Listen, I can stay here and play host like a good little first lady, but it’s going to drive me crazy. He hasn’t bothered to call me, and while I don’t think he’d cheat on me with Lauren, the communications slut, I also don’t want to be here obsessing over it. At least if I’m in Finland, then I’ll be distracted.”
“What about being pregnant?”
“A doctor travels with me all the time. If something happens and I’m sick, then the doctor can take care of me. And if I’m really sick, then I’ll come home.”
“And what about Jameson? He’s not going to be very happy about this.”
“No, he’s not going to be happy at all, and I’ll handle it when the time comes. I’m not going to ask his permission to be the kind of first lady that I want to be.”
“You’re kind of a badass, you know that?”
“I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”
“You’re a badass, but you’re also stupid. I think you’re making a mistake.”
Mistake or not, I was done waiting for Jameson to keep his promises.