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“Circle the block. Give it ten minutes. I don’t want her knowing I’ve been out here all damn night,” I tell Giovanni as we circle the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center for the millionth time.

He laughs.

“Sorry, man, but—”

“No need to apologize, Mr—”

“Jase. Seriously, we just spent eight hours in a fucking car together; will you stop with the mister shit,” I tell him.

“Yeah.”

“Mr. Steel,” I huff. “My father wasn’t even Mr. Steel.”

“Understood.”

“Women are fucking crazy,” I say, looking out the passenger side window.

“Understand that, too.” He laughs.

“They make us crazy. Don’t ever get married, man.” I sigh. “Well, unless—”

“Been there, done that, have absolutely no plan to do it again.” He chuckles.

“You’re married? She must be pissed that I have you out all fucking day and night.”

He nods. “She’s none the wiser.”

He offers no more information.

“Didn’t know. Double-O Cyrus does all the hiring for drivers, security … well, anyone who spends a lot of time with our family. My bad.”

He nods. “He’s a good man.”

“Most of the time, yeah.” I laugh, and he does, too.

I don’t press for information, but he has piqued my curiosity. I will certainly be finding out more about him.

I walk up to the door of the convention center and … of course I’m not let in. No passing off a Benjamin is going to work, either. Tried that shit earlier, and it got me a suspicious stare.

“My wife and her friend are inside,” I tell the man who is trying his best to look intimidating. Not working.

I shoot Carly a text, telling her I’m here and can’t get in. I tell her to give me her location so I can get the motherfuckers to help her with Mimi.

Ten more minutes later, I see Carly through the glass wall with one of Mimi’s arms slung around her shoulders and the other around a camp Clinton security goon.

When they walk out, I look at my wife. She looks shot.

Mimi is murmuring, “She’ll be here. I’m not ready to leave. We’re gonna win this thing.”

“All right, party’s over. Let’s go.” Giovanni swoops in and lifts up the woman who, if I were a lesser man, I would leave here while taking my wife fucking home.

Once he has Mimi out of my sight, I look at Carly. “I am really un-fucking-happy—”

“Jase, just don’t, okay?” Carly sighs.

My mouth snaps shut, and I nod. “Let’s get you in bed.”

She shakes her head. “There is no decision made yet.”

“Fuck if there isn’t.” I move closer to pick her ass up, but she hold her hand up, stopping me.

“I can walk,” she says. “I need to walk with my head held high. And you”—she pokes me in the chest—“need to back off until official results are in, Jase.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Carly.” I scoop her up. “Decision made. I’m getting you the fuck out of here.”

“Put me down.” She puts up half a fight and, I swear to fuck, the goons step toward me.

“You better march your delusional asses back into estrogen world or, I swear to God, I will take three months of sexual frustration out on you in the form of fists meeting faces,” I hiss at them as I walk with my wife to the car.

“Jase!” she yells at me.

“Don’t say another word,” I snap a her. “Not one.”

“Fuck you.” She glares as she holds my shoulders.

I should be pissed, but fuck if that doesn’t get me all sorts of excited. And yeah, she knows it.

When we drive by Trump Towers, Mimi fucking stands up out of the moon roof, flashes the crowd at a stoplight, and yells, “Suck it!” Then, well, then she vomits.

I should be back there helping my wife, but she has put her tiny, little foot down, so I am giving her this moment to go all Steinem.

“Bitch is crazy,” I grumble under my breath.

Giovanni laughs. “Entertaining, though.”

Giovanni carries the little feminazi into the hotel and to the elevator while she spews crazy shit.

“The truth will set you free, but first, it will piss you off,” she slurs.

“You’ve pissed off a few people tonight,” I hear Giovanni whisper.

“Oh, okay, Mafioso,” Mimi snorts then smacks his back.

He looks up at the ceiling and rolls his eyes.

I look at Carly, who looks down. I know that look. She’s either going to laugh, or keep trying to look all Betty Badass.

“Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning,” Mimi says as her head flops back.

“Dreaming would require sleep first. Feel free to start that cycle,” Giovanni says quietly.

This time, Carly snorts.

“A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.”

“Brilliant,” Giovanni says on a sigh.

Mimi opens her eyes and smiles a big, goofy, drunken smile. “It’s all Steinem. She is so inspirational. She has made women in this country”—she hiccups—“stronger.”

“She lives in Canada,” he tells her, and I can’t help laughing.

“And Gandhi lives in India.”

“He’s dead,” Giovanni says as the elevator door opens.

“I’m alive.” She starts to fuss, so he lets her feet hit the floor. “And if that orange … Kanye-West-like, reality star, joke of a man wins, I’m gonna be Canadian, too.”

“Perfect,” he says, trying to keep her on her feet. “I’ll drive you to the border.”

“I wouldn’t do that. They may not let you back in if … he wins.”

“I’m a US citizen; I’m all set,” he tells her firmly.

“You might be revoked,” she warns him.

“Trust me; I’ll get you over that border and back to the country I’m proud to be a citizen of.”

“Now, you are proud now. What about when it all goes to hell?” she snaps.

“Can’t get any worse than this,” he says then turns to walk away.

Carly is with her now, helping her change.

I look at Giovanni. “Sorry about all that.”

“Not a problem,” he says as I hand him a beer.

“Have a seat?” I ask.

He nods and sits.

“Liked what you said,” I tell him.

“Thank you.”

Carly comes out and looks at me then him. “I’m going to bed.”

I nod. “Good. You need your rest.”

“Yes, I certainly do,” she huffs then marches into the master bedroom.

I put my feet up on the coffee table and silently chuckle.

“Who do you think is going to win?” Giovanni asks.

“Whoever the electoral college says. That’s the thing; nothing’s gonna change, no matter how much people piss and moan. But they will. They’ll be all up in arms about whichever candidate is elected. You vote?”

“This morning,” he answers before taking a swig of his beer. “First election ever.”

“Then you did everything you could. It was over as soon as you filled in that bubble.” I laugh. “But then your employer pulls you into a fucking political war zone. I suck, man.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “It was actually interesting.”

He and I stay up and wait until the race is called.

I am the happiest fucking American there is. Not because Donald fucking Trump won, but because this shit is over, and Carly, oh Carly, is in for one hell of a ride.

“It’s done.” I clap my hands and smile. “Congratulations, you survived.”

“It is over,” he agrees. “You voted for Trump, I assume?”

“I voted for the anti-political bullshit ruining our country. I voted against media’s bullshit. I voted based on my beliefs and for my children’s future. Men should be fucking men. Women shouldn’t have to fill both roles.”

“You don’t think a woman is a good choice as a leader for our country?” he asks.

“Depends on the woman,” I answer as I walk with him toward the door. “Momma Joe would kick this country’s ass into shape. Carly would try to make everyone happy, and it would ruin her. Mimi? Fuck no. She hates men.”

“Is she a lesbian?” he asks.

“Not that I’m aware of.” I scratch my head. “She probably wants to be.”

He smirks. “Who could blame her?”

I laugh. “Pussy is the best.”

“It is,” he says as he starts to step out, and then we both freeze when we hear Mimi throwing up in the bathroom.

“She is determined to ruin my night,” I grumble.

“I got it,” he says, walking back in.

“No way in hell should you have to deal with that, either.”

He smirks. “You can pay me overtime.”

“Triple time,” I offer.

“Perfecto.”

When I walk into the bedroom, Carly is fully clothed and passed out across the bed.

I move her as carefully as I can, not wanting to wake her … even though I should. Then I take off her shoes before slowly unbuttoning her pants, which is a bad idea because now I can see the little baby bump and I want to kiss on it, lick it all the way down to where the entire pregnancy situation started—her pussy.

Instead, I kiss up, giving her soft, little kisses because I am very, very much going to have her how I want her tomorrow, and I will be damned if she’s not rested.