Chapter Six
Now
I think Christopher is swearing at me under his breath. He spent his career with threat assessments, security logistics, and tracking down potential dangers.
Now he’s in charge of interior design, china patterns, seating charts, floral arrangements, and a crew of culinary experts.
It is amusing that the sadist is now the one being tortured, in a way.
Even Kevin finds it amusing, although neither of us will admit it to Christopher right now.
We’re masochists, not stupid.
Yesterday, Elliot, Chris, and I visited Arlington National Cemetery for the wreath-laying ceremony. It was cold and rainy as a frontal system moved into the area, but no way in hell would I miss it. Tomorrow’s Inauguration Day is supposed to be sunny, but cold.
On Inauguration Day, I awaken excited, ready to get to work…and terrified right the fuck out.
In a few short hours, I’m going to be president.
We’ve been staying at Blair House for the past several days in preparation for the transition. By “we” I mean myself, Christopher, and Kevin, plus Elliot and his parents and sister, Leo, and Lauren, and Charles, Tory, and the kids, and Tory’s parents.
Kevin’s father is not invited to any of the private meals or gatherings we hold in the days leading up to this moment. Rumors have it he’s incensed over that slight, and that makes the three of us smile even more.
We have a cozy group breakfast before returning to our rooms to get ready for the day. When the Secret Service says it’s almost time to leave for the traditional coffee date at the White House, I’m nervous, but excited. Elliot and I exchange playful high-fives downstairs in the foyer, an act captured by the photographer, before we walk out to load in the limos to head over to the White House. There’s some formalities to go through, the traditional picture of the four of us together—Christopher and me, Fullmer and his wife.
It’s a sunny but brutally cold day, thirty-eight degrees and plummeting, with a biting wind that puts the windchill factor around eighteen and makes me glad Kev insisted I wear nude-colored tights today. Also, he bought me a good pair of gloves, and I’m actually wearing one of his scarves, but which is the perfect color for my dress and coat.
In this way, at least, he is always with me.
Outside at the White House, I note where Kevin and Lauren stand waiting and watching with Leo behind the photographers as we take the outside pictures before we take the inside ones, and I wish we could include Kev in all of them.
He is the reason I’m here.
I mean, sure, Christopher is the one who brought us together, but it’s Kev’s brain and game plan that got me elected. His skill at interpreting poll results, scheduling my campaign appearances and interviews, crafting the message—all of it.
And now the Secret Service knows us as Portia, Priest, and Prophet.
Kev turned out to be my Prophet, all right.
He stands watching with his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks handsome in his suit. I picked out his blue tie, which has some of the same colors in it that are in my blue dress.
Also, Christopher tied me up with both his tie and Kevin’s last night, while my two men went over every inch of my both with their hands and mouths and had me writhing and begging for them.
From the playful smirk Kev wears as he smooths his hand over his tie while he knows my gaze is on him, I’m sure that’s running through his mind, too.
When Christopher also smooths his tie, I know they’re in on it together.
The rat bastards.
Damn, do I love them.
We smile and play nice for the cameras with Fullmer and Jackson, Fullmer’s VP, and their wives, while in the wings there is a crew of hundreds prepped and ready to undertake the moving process as soon as the clock strikes noon.
I can’t wait.
We’ve already designated one of the bedrooms on the second floor of the residence as Kev’s room. Not officially, but yeah, officially. We have a workout room upstairs on the third floor, and Kev is Chris’ best friend, as well as my chief of staff. So the easiest excuse is that he can work out here, with Chris, getting an early jump on their day.
The truth is, if we’re in the White House on any given night, more often than not Kevin will be sleeping in bed with us.
It’s easier for him to get to the White House than it is for us to get to the townhouse. We can’t do that—not without the whole of DC knowing it because of road blockages for the motorcade. Doesn’t matter what books and movies show, it’s impossible for POTUS or FSOTUS to sneak around unnoticed.
After the press and photographers are ushered out to give us a few minutes of privacy, I’m sure Fullmer thinks he’s scoring some sort of point against me when he opens his damn mouth.
“You know, you didn’t have to marry someone in the Secret Service to get protection from them, Senator Samuels. It comes with the job.”
Before Chris or I can even process Fullmer really said that, Kevin responds without missing a beat. “Oh, you mean like you didn’t have to marry any of your mistresses because you already had a wife at home, President Fullmer?”
Bam.
I reach out and exchange an exploding fist bump with Kev.
This is just one reason why I desperately love this man.
Unsurprisingly, the carpool ride to the Capitol is even chillier than than the air outside. I’m sure neither Fullmer nor Jackson—or their spouses—are happy about being relegated to the one-term club. Jackson knows his chances at ever being elected POTUS now are slim to none, considering his age and poll numbers compared to mine and Elliot’s.
I briefly consider joking that we should open a window to let some warm air into the limo. I think Chris anticipates that, because he squeezes my hand to get my attention and gives me a playful smirk I know means, Behave, girl.
As we all take our places outside the US Capitol for the swearing in ceremony, I try not to let the sight of the swarms of people tightly packed into the National Mall overwhelm me. Chris holds my hand as the ceremony begins, and it’s weird how time seems to race and yet simultaneously crawl as things proceed.
Elliot is sworn in first, per tradition. He has his sister hold the family Bible he uses to take the oath administered to him by Associate Justice Carlos Sampere.
Then it’s my turn.
Chief Justice Lise Pritchard will administer my oath, which I’ve opted to take on Momma’s copy of Black’s Law Dictionary, and her tattered, mini leather-bound version of the Constitution. Every time she was sworn into office, she swore her oath on both books.
As I place my hand on those books, which Chris holds for me, the enormity of the situation hits me.
I’m about to take an oath in front of the entire world.
“I ShaeLynn Elrod Samuels, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”
At least there will be pictures and video of this moment so I can go back and watch it. Because as I raise my hand and repeat the words and officially step onto the world’s stage, I can’t help but wish Kevin was standing there next to Chris, both of them holding the books I am swearing upon.
So help me god.
* * * *
The luncheon in Statuary Hall features shrimp and grits, filet Oskar, smoked mullet, corn on the cob, and Key Lime Pie, among other dishes. It’s an ode to me and Elliot, and some of our favorite dishes.
I hope in eight years I’m able to sit back and proudly watch him take the oath I just took. He’s a good man, and he’s going to be a damned good VP.
The crowds along the Inaugural Parade route are surprisingly enormous. It’s even colder than it was this morning, it’s windy, and all I want to do is get to the White House, but I insist on walking some of the route despite Chris trying to talk me out of it. I know his concern is as my husband, but even more as an experienced agent who worked The Shift first-hand. After a ride in the limo down the parade route, Chris, Elliot, and I get out to walk the last eight blocks.
Outside the limo, the crowd’s intensity is stunning, roaring cheers as we pass, including people chanting SAM-UELS! SAM-UELS!
I could kiss Christopher and Kev for suggesting I wear flats today. It makes the walk so much easier. The last thing I want is me tripping and face-planting and having it immortalized for all to see.
I wish Momma and Daddy were here. I’m not a believer in religion, but maybe if there’s an afterlife, she’s watching this, proud of me, and cheering me on.
I hope.
Even today, on this most incredible of days, an image still flashes to mind that I have to shove away or risk it making me sick.
Despite it being a promise kept.
Another reason I never wanted children of my own—so they don’t feel obligated to keep ill-conceived promises I might be selfish and short-sighted enough extract from them.
Chris holds my hand as we walk. The entire way, he keeps me firmly between him and Elliot. I can see he’s in protective mode as he constantly scans the crowds.
Old habits die hard, but good Secret Service protective agents keep people from dying, period.
He might as well be one of the other Secret Service agents currently protecting us. With his sunglasses and constantly pivoting gaze, he sure looks like one.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” I tell him when I tug on his hand to get him to lean in.
He smiles down at me. “Enjoy it, sweetie. You’ve earned it.”
“Are they really cheering for me, or am I imagining that?”
He grins. “They’re cheering. You won by a landslide.” Florida did finally swing my way, once the literal disaster from the severe weather and accompanying logistics snafus were sorted out. I won the Electoral College and I won the popular vote by over fifteen million votes.
A decisive win.
As we’re watching the parade from the reviewing stands, Kevin leans in to whisper in my ear from where he’s sitting directly behind me. “Congratulations, Madam President.”
I glance back to spot his playful smile.
And he runs his hand down the front of his tie, making my pussy clench as I remember what the two of them did to me last night.
Rat bastard.
I drop him a wink.
He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, but then also squeezes Chris’.
We’re really here.
We really did it.
And we can’t even talk about Kevin’s real role in our lives.
To me, that’s the unfairest thing of all.