Chapter Sixteen
I feel guilty for needing to increase our time on the campaign trail, but Christopher assures me it’s what he wants, too.
He also needs it. Campaign events are a way for him to escape reality for a while. Where they were a chore the first time around, now they’re a needed distraction.
Apparently, Iowa loves me. There were two or three outliers who wiggled their way onto the caucus rolls there, but they didn’t stand a chance, thanks to Kevin’s plan, Lauren’s brilliant Comms shop, and my overall poll numbers.
My performance does equally well in other primaries.
Kev was correct that our family’s tragedy has probably clinched me the re-election. My approval numbers are higher than ever, and really the only thing different is we buried Charles and Tory.
Yes, I feel guilty over that, despite the fact that their deaths aren’t my fault. But I damn sure won’t waste it, either. Now all I have to do is bring it home.
Kev is trying to strike a tone for my schedule between getting shit done as POTUS, being a good mom, and hitting the campaign trail hard and heavy. Obviously, unless a day-trip can take place while the kids are in school so we’ll be home before they return, Chris stays home so he can be there for them. We do our best to keep at least one of us home with them. To me, that’s more important than my reelection bid.
There’s been enough upheaval in their lives to last them a lifetime.
We change our wills to add the kids and to name Kev and Lauren as additional guardians for them, should something happen to us. The chances are nothing will happen to us, but I’m sure Charles and Tory thought that, too.
Hudson and Shawna Harris are frequent visitors to the White House, especially on weekends, or when Chris and I will both be gone overnight. We do have Yasmine stay over those nights, but it’s good to have family with them as well. Chris sends a car for them—which we pay for out of our own pockets—to ferry them here.
Shawna admits they get to see the kids more now than they used to, and they’re relieved that they’re kept safe.
The driver who killed Charles and Tory still hasn’t been caught, which agonizes me on a personal level, and infuriates me as the Commander and Chief.
As Kev reminds me, I can’t just randomly nuke people, even though that’d be a really awesome power to have.
Kev’s also told me I’m not allowed to send the fucker to Guantanamo Bay, or some secret CIA black ops site, and let them be tortured.
Once school lets out for the summer, the last thing I want to do is drag the kids around the campaign trail with us, no matter how great the optics.
Make no mistake, no matter how much Kev loves the kids, he’d be remiss in his duties as my chief of staff if he didn’t remind me about the optics.
Instead, I let Chris, Kev, and Lauren do their jobs and set up a campaign-slash-family vacation schedule. The kids won’t be with me on every trip, but we can take them places like Yellowstone National Park, Devils Tower, the Grand Canyon, and other famous landmarks.
This allows me to highlight the hard work of our National Parks Service and environmental protection initiatives we’ve implemented, so they’re not just campaign and vacation stops.
It also helps chill complaints from people who want to bitch that I’m traveling too much for vacation, because the kids have become a tragic national story. When the bastard who killed Charles and Tory is eventually apprehended, they’ll need to be put into protective custody immediately because of the wave of public opinion against them.
We also spend two desperately needed weeks at Camp David, all of us, including Hudson and Shawna Harris, Kevin, Lauren, Elliot, Leo, and some other key staffers.
Susa, Carter, Owen, their three children, and Benchley and Michelle spend a long weekend with us, too.
The convention is a formality because I’m the presumptive candidate, as well as I didn’t lose a single damn primary despite a few challenges.
School starts up again, and Congress is in session. Kev and I get more time alone together on campaign trips, although Chris steals him for an hour or two during the days when Kev’s there and the kids are in school. Our lives settle into whatever passes for a “regular schedule” when you’re the leader of the free world, the mom to three active kids, and trying to conceal your polyamorous triad’s relationship from the public and your press secretary.
The bad thing about Congress being in session again is Rep. Edwin Markos running his goddamned mouth every time he turns around. I still can’t believe voters have sent him to the Hill fourteen fucking times, and he’s running for the fifteenth.
What the hell is in the water in West Virginia?
At least it looks like his days are numbered as we head into the second week of October. His last election went to a recount, where he won by less than eight hundred votes. This time around, he likely would have been turfed out in the primary, except his young, popular Republican opponent died from an allergic reaction before early voting started. His poll numbers are too close to call, but we’re all hopeful he won’t be coming back to DC next January.
Kevin hasn’t had any personal contact with him since the day the asshole showed up at the DC townhouse after I was first elected. Kev won’t call him, and he hasn’t called Kev. Not even after Lauren gave the asshole a pretty spectacular smackdown during a presser last week, in response to a smart-ass comment the congressman had made.
In this way, we have a common enemy. Lauren once confided in me how creepy the elder Markos is, how he used to hit on her when she and Kevin were together and Kev took her to holiday functions. That apparently there were a few instances where he got handsy and she finally nailed him in the balls, which put an end to it. But she didn’t tell Kev about that, not wanting to upset him.
Fortunately, the elder Markos straightened up after that.
Lauren comes upstairs to have dinner with us on a Tuesday evening, us meaning Kev, too. Kev and I will be flying out late tomorrow morning to a campaign event in Omaha with Elliot, his home state. Back home, then down to Texas on Thursday, where I’m supposed to give a speech to a petroleum and gas industry event in Dallas before flying home that evening.
The kids love Aunt Lauren, and they’re always drawing pictures for her, or running to her office in the afternoon to see her and talk to her after saying hi to me. They’ve sat in on press briefings, too, wanting to see what she does. Of all of us, Lauren has more contact with the press, and is on TV all the time, so she’s more visible to them. It’s easier for them to “see” what she does for a living, versus myself, Kev, and even Chris.
I’m proud that I can call Lauren a friend and mean it now. She is a friend. We differ in some ways politically, but I couldn’t have asked for a better press secretary, and as an advisor, I listen to her even when I disagree. Sometimes I don’t change my direction, but I will adjust my message to better explain myself.
Her entire team works well together, which is amazing, because let’s be honest, DC is dysfunctional. No matter how many strides we’ve taken toward trying to calm tribal partisan politics, it’s still an Us versus Them world at large.
As we sit down to meatloaf and veggies the kids helped Chris prepare, we adults make a conscious effort to leave everything relating to work behind. I don’t want to talk the campaign, or poll numbers, or anything.
I want to hear about the kids and their day. Because I can still remember times I know Momma was busy, and yet she made time for me. Coming into these last few weeks of the campaign, being able to sit down as a family will get increasingly rare. We’re thinking about going down to Florida for Christmas so we can visit with Susa, Carter, Owen, and Benchley. It’s a decision we haven’t made yet, though. It’ll also depend on whether or not I win. If I lose, we’ll be involved in a transition, and I wouldn’t want to skew that process by heading out of town.
The kids help Chris with the dishes, and then head off to their rooms to start getting ready for bed.
Lauren pulls out her work phone and scrolls through it. “We’re still looking damned good,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Did you see the latest poll numbers? You’ve got a twenty-point lead on Ignacio. You’re going to kick his ass next week in the debate.”
“I should. Y’all have been drilling me hard enough.” We’ve had prep debates, with Lauren and Kevin playing the moderator, and with one of them, or Leo or another staffer, playing the loud-mouth Ignacio. He barely won his party’s nomination. It was a contentious Republican convention, with delegates changing votes, and charges of tampering and bribes being paid to influence votes.
Not my problem.
All I know is that after the GOP convention, there was a ten-point shift from GOP candidates to Independent and third-party candidates by undecided GOP voters. Their base is disgusted with them and their actions.
That it helps me is a bonus.
“So do you still hate me?” I tease her.
She laughs. “I wouldn’t be here if I did, Shae.” Our family rule is when it’s just us around the dinner table, it’s first names and equals. And she counts among those ranks—
Family.
Her smile fades. “I guess I never really…hated you. Don’t tell anyone.” She smirks now.
This year, on her birthday, I carried the small cake with the candles that we brought into the press briefing room as a surprise for her. After she blew them out, the staff wheeled in a larger cake on a cart for everyone else.
“You know, Elliot is starting to hint around to me about you,” I tell her. “Asking me what I think it’d take to get you to stay on for him. His press secretary already told him he won’t be around for a POTUS term. They’ve got little kids.”
I also told Elliot I’d ask her for him. Because he did more than hint—he outright begged me for my help.
I don’t miss how Lauren glances at Kev first before her gaze returns to her phone. “I don’t know.” But I can see from the look on her face that she’s already seriously considering it.
Kev told me that he’s already told Lauren wherever Chris and I go, that’s where he’ll be. She thinks that’s due solely to Christopher. Our original plan had been to retire to Florida, but with the kids in school, we’ll need to modify that plan.
Right now, our future is literally up in the air until the election in a few weeks.
Still, she wants to be close to Kev, and I get it. They’re best friends. Sometimes they go out to dinner together, or he goes to her house, or she comes over to the town house if he’s sleeping there instead of with us.
That’s more for optics, though. Kev is strict when it comes to protecting me and Chris and our image, especially now that we have the kids.
“You don’t think it’d be weird me staying on this long?” she asks.
“Can you afford to do it?” I reply.
“Well, yeah. I have savings. That’s not the issue.”
“You thrive on the adrenaline spike,” I remind her.
She smiles again. “True story. This is a lot more fun than sitting on TV for an hour a day reading copy and interviewing weasels.”
“Now you get to call the weasels out,” Kev teases.
“You don’t think his Comms shop will resent me taking charge?” she asks.
Kev snorts. “You hired most of them,” he reminds her. “I don’t think that’s a problem.”
She spins her phone on the table. “I wouldn’t have to move my office,” she says. “That’d be kind of nice.” She looks at Kev again. “You wouldn’t be here, though.”
“You can break in a new chief of staff,” he says. “None of the people he has right now want the job. You agree now, you could probably help him pick a chief. Hell, you could apply to be chief.” He grins.
She shudders. “No, thank you. I don’t want your job.” She glances my way. “No offense, Shae.”
“None taken.”
“Should I talk to him about it?” she finally asks.
“I would,” I tell her. “Walk over tomorrow after the staff meeting. I know he’s supposed to be hanging around tomorrow before we all head out.”
She slowly nods. “You know, maybe that’s what I’ll do. I wouldn’t have to give him a firm answer tomorrow, right?”
“Nah. But let him know you’re interested so he can keep that in mind.”
She sighs. “Daddy won’t be happy I’m working for another Democrat, but oh, well. He’ll have to get used to it.”
As the evening draws to a close, we say good-night to Lauren and Kev walks her down to the exit. Once the kids are in bed, and the three of us are secure behind a locked bedroom door, I can finally relax.
It’s a snuggle night, though. Kev and I have a long day tomorrow.
The next morning, Leo has just arrived as I emerge from the bedroom, dressed and ready to go. Kevin got up earlier and took his shower in his bedroom, for appearances sake. We’ll have staff coming and going this morning, so it looks better.
Including he messes up his bed and remakes it sloppily so the staff thinks he slept in it.
“Hey,” Leo says to Kev as he emerges from his room. “Did Lauren send you her morning meeting notes yet? Ben asked me to ask you. I saw him downstairs.”
Kevin scowls. “No?” He pulls his work phone out and checks it. “Nothing, why?”
“I’m just passing on the message.”
Kevin taps out a quick text, I’m assuming to Lauren, and then heads toward the kitchen for coffee.
Once Yasmine arrives and we get the kids off to school, Kev and I head downstairs, but there’s a slightly…ominous feel to the morning that has nothing to do with the grey skies outside and the impending cold front.
Everything feels off.
Lauren still hasn’t responded to Kevin’s texts, or calls, and hasn’t made an appearance by the time they’re preparing to hold the morning staff meeting. I’m about to suggest Secret Service does a welfare check on her, because this is totally unlike her, when the PPD agent in charge of White House security today appears outside my study door.
“President Samuels, ma’am, I need to speak with you right now, please.”
This cannot be good. “Sure.”
Leo and Kev are in there with me, and I motion for them to stay.
He steps inside and shuts the door. “Actually, I need to speak with Mr. Markos, too.”
From the blank mask that appears on Kev’s face, I know his mind has just skipped ahead to a similar conclusion mine has, even though I pray I’m wrong.
Oh, how I pray.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“There’s no easy way to say this, ma’am. I just received a call from the DC Chief of Police. Ms. Baltazar was shot and killed overnight.”