by Marie Force
He laughed. “I don’t blame you. Most first ladies have a year and a half to prepare for the possibility that their spouse might win the presidency and force them into the brightest spotlight on earth. You had like an hour to prepare for that. I don’t blame you at all for being totally wigged out by it.”
“I’m trying not to be, but I do feel like I’ve been tipped upside down and flung into something so much bigger than I can wrap my head around. My husband is the freaking president of the United States. Like, what the actual fuck?”
“I can only imagine what that’s like. I can barely wrap my head around the fact that my good friend is the president and you’re the first lady. Everyone I’ve ever known in my entire life has reached out to me in the last few days to say ‘holy crap.’ They all want to know about you guys and whether you’re going to keep working and a million other things.”
“Ugh, I hate that people want the dirt on us. That makes me feel like I’m going to break out in hives or something.”
“Don’t do that. You have that network interview tomorrow night, right?”
“Jesus H. Christ. I forgot about that.”
“What’ve I asked you about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”
“It’s a network interview, Frederico! When the hell else should I take the Lord’s name in vain?”
“How about never? That would work for me. And don’t call me Frederico. You know I hate that too. Only my mother gets away with calling me that—and she’s busy losing it about Nick being president. She said she can’t believe people we know are going to live in the White House.”
“We’ll have your folks over as soon as we can.”
“She’d lose her mind. Seriously.”
“We’ll make that happen. We may as well take full advantage of the coolness of living there while it lasts, right?”
“We can have some epic parties—and from what I’ve read, there’re enough bedrooms for everyone to sleep over. I call the Lincoln Bedroom.”
“We’ll make that happen too.”
“That’d be so freaking cool. I’d live off that for the rest of my life.”
“Maybe it won’t totally suck.”
“No, it will, but there’ll be good times too. Just keep the people you care about most close by to help you keep things real. Speaking of that, I actually had an idea for you.”
“What’s that?”
“In the past, there have been cases of grandparents moving into the White House with the families so they can be there for the children when the first couple has to travel and stuff.”
“Okay…”
“You ought to ask Celia to move in with you guys so she can do that for your kids. It’d be good for her to have something new to do now that your dad has passed away, and it would give you guys peace of mind when you can’t be with the kids.”
“That’s a really great idea.”
“I get full credit.”
Sam laughed. “I’m happy to give you full credit for a truly brilliant idea. One of my biggest concerns is how I’ll ever juggle it all. It was tough enough when I was the second lady, but now it just seems so overwhelming. Keeping my job is critical to me, but the reality is I’ve been very uncertain how I can do both jobs and be a good mother to three kids. Having Celia there would be such a tremendous help.”
“You’re a wonderful mother to those kids, Sam. They love you so much.”
“I’m an okay mother. I spend less time with them than I should.”
“All working mothers say that. Anyone who has a full-time job feels guilty for the time they spend away from their kids. You’re no different that way.”
“I suppose. I think all the time about how great of a mom Cleo was to Alden and Aubrey. She was the mom with the glue gun who was always doing something amazing with them. I consider it a good day if everyone is fed and bathed.”
That made him laugh—hard.
“I’m serious!”
“I know. That’s why it’s funny. So when I was a kid, maybe seven or eight, I overheard my mom telling my grandmother that she felt like she was doing an awful job being a single mom to me. That was back when my mom was working two jobs after my dad left, and I spent more time with my grandmother than I did with her. My mom was saying how I was going to grow up thinking my grandmother was my actual mother.”
“Oh, damn. What did your grandmother say to that?”
“She said, ‘That boy knows exactly who his mother is, and he adores you. He’ll remember how hard you worked to provide for him and how he had everything he needed—food, clothing, a roof over his head and all the love in your heart. He’s not keeping score about how much time he spends with you. Only you’re doing that.’”
“That’s lovely, Freddie. Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“What my grandmother said is true. I do look back and remember how hard my mom worked so I could have the right clothes and play Little League and be in Cub Scouts and learn to ice skate. She made all that possible for me. Were there times when I wished she didn’t have to work so much? Sure, but that’s not the thing I remember most about my childhood. I remember laughing with her—a lot. I remember going to church with her and out to eat with her and my grandparents on Sundays and sleepovers with my cousins and how she somehow made it to just about everything that happened at school. I remember most of all how much she loved me. Almost too much, as you know.”
“She’s a great mom, even now. She loves you more than anything.”
“Which can be a little suffocating at times. Like when she decided she hated Elin for me and set out to make my life a living hell.”
“Fortunately, she came around to realizing you had to make your own decision about who you love.”
“And now they’re friends. Who’d a thunk it, right? Bottom line—your kids will remember how much you love them. They’ll remember the amazing adventure of living in the White House, and they’ll be so proud of what you and Nick will accomplish together.”
“Thank you for this. I truly needed to hear it.”
“Glad I could help.”
“You did.”
“I’m on Team Sam and Nick. Whatever you need, you let me know, and I’ll do what I can.”
“That means a lot. I’m sure you’ll end up shouldering more than your share of the paperwork and bullshit going forward.”
“I’ll trade you that for a night or two in the Lincoln Bedroom.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal, my friend.”
They arrived at the Anacostia neighborhood a few minutes later and saw two Patrol cars and Gonzo’s car parked a block away from Evans’s home.
Sam slid into a space behind Gonzo.
She and Freddie donned bulletproof vests and joined him and the other officers on the sidewalk.
“I put two people on the back door and the other two with us,” Gonzo said.
“Sounds good,” Sam said. “Let’s do it.”
When the two Patrol officers radioed to let them know they were in position behind the row of townhouses, Sam led the way to the front door and rang the bell. After a minute without a response, she pounded on the door with a closed fist. “MPD. Open up.”
Inside, she heard locks disengaging and reached for her weapon.
The door opened, and a frightened young woman appeared.
“We’re looking for Kelvin Evans,” Sam said, showing her badge and weapon.
“H-he’s n-not here.” She flinched as if in pain, which tipped Sam off that he was probably holding a gun on her.
“Can you step outside, please?”
The woman’s eyes shifted to the left as her entire body trembled.
With her free hand, Sam pulled the storm door open. “Put your hands up and step outside the door. Now.”
The woman took a step forward and then another. Once she crossed the threshold, she sprinted forward like a threatened jackrabbit. Knowing one of the Patrol officers would deal with her, Sam kicked the door hard and hea
rd a gasp from the man hiding behind it when it hit him. “Put down your weapon and come out with your hands up, Kelvin.”
While she waited for him to comply with her order, her heart beat fast, and adrenaline zipped through her system the way it always did when shit got real on the job. She took perverse pleasure from getting scumbags off the streets, especially one who’d done what this guy had to Shanice.
“I want a deal,” he said.
“No deal until you come out here with your hands up.”
“I know stuff. You guys need me.”
“You’ll have your chance to negotiate once you come out. Until then, no deal. You’ve got one minute to come out on your own, or we’re coming in.” She counted down in her head. “Thirty seconds.”
The sound of a gun landing on the floor had her expelling the breath she’d been holding.
“Let me see your hands.”
His hands came around the edge of the door.
“Move nice and slowly.”
Kelvin came around the door, keeping his hands up, and walked toward them. He was about thirty years old, Black, handsome enough to be a model and heavily tattooed. But his eyes were hard with outrage and hatred.
When she lowered her gun, grabbed her cuffs and reached out to him, he suddenly threw an elbow that hit her square in the face, sending her flying backward off the stoop and into bushes made of sharp-ass sticks. While she recovered her senses, Freddie and the two Patrol officers tackled Kelvin and had him cuffed in the time it took Sam to crawl out of the bushes.
Freddie came rushing over to give her a hand up. “You’re bleeding like crazy.”
When he pulled on her hand, she cried out in pain. Her palms were bloody from trying to stop her fall into the holly bush.
Sam wiped her face, and her hand came away covered in blood. Great. As always, the perps had perfect timing, seeming to know when she had something important to do. That was when they took their best shots at her face.
Vernon and Jimmy were watching the goings-on with concerned expressions, but she appreciated that per her request, they hadn’t come running to her rescue.
“You, um, might need some stitches.”
Stitches meant needles, and she didn’t do needles.
“You need to hit the ER to be sure.”
“I don’t have time for this today.”
“I’m sure they’ll get you right in. Ask the agents to drive you while I take Evans to HQ.”
Resigned to seeking medical attention, she handed over her keys to him. “See what you guys can get out of him. We need to find his accomplices before they take off.”
“Will do. No one is doing arraignments until tomorrow anyway, and he won’t get bail with murder and felony assault charges looming. So you have time to go to the ER and find some makeup to cover the carnage.” He checked his watch. “You have three hours until your meeting with Mrs. Nelson.”
Sam groaned when she thought of showing up at the White House looking as if she’d lost a boxing match. “Take care of the girlfriend too. We need to find out what she knows.”
“I’m on it. Go take care of yourself. I’ll check in later.”
Sam was infuriated to have to leave the case to others at this critical juncture, but if the pain radiating from her face and hands was any indication, Freddie might be right about her needing stitches. She stomped down the stairs to the sidewalk, where Vernon met her, holding a wad of gauze that he handed to her.
“Thank you. Would you mind giving me a lift back to GW?”
“It’d be a pleasure, ma’am.”
“Stop being nice to me. It’s irritating.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He held the back door for her and then handed her an ice pack.
“You’re a regular Boy Scout, aren’t you?”
His lips quivered with the start of a smile. “I read up on you before I took this assignment. I learned that having a first aid kit handy would be useful.”
“That’s very funny. Ha. Ha.”
Laughing, he closed the door.
Sam pressed the ice pack to her throbbing cheek and used the gauze to mop up some of the blood pouring from her hands as she realized she needed to call Nick to let him know she was injured. Again. Ignoring the pain coming from her hands, she fished the BlackBerry from her coat pocket and tried to remember how to use it. Oh, right. Press 69. He was a comedian.
He answered on the third ring. “Samantha? What’s up?”
“Everything is fine, but I wanted to tell you I took an elbow to the face, and I’m on my way to GW to get it checked because Freddie said I might need stitches because I also fell into a holly bush.”
“Oh no, babe. That’s my favorite face in the whole wide world.”
She smiled and then winced from the pain of the movement. “The worst part is that I’m going to have to meet with Mrs. Nelson looking like I just stepped out of a boxing ring. There won’t be pictures, will there?”
“Uhh, well…”
Sam moaned.
“We have the network interview tomorrow too, don’t forget.”
She wanted to scream with frustration. “I’m going to need Tracy’s theater makeup again.”
“You want me to call her?”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll do it. What are you up to?”
“We just saw Elijah off, and the Littles are sad, so Scotty and I are keeping them busy while I wait for Terry to get here. We’re going to meet about potential VP candidates.”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can. Vernon and Jimmy are taking me to GW, and I’m going to call my buddy Dr. Anderson to let him know he can punch my frequent-flier card again. He’ll get me in and out.”
“It’s nice to have friends in high places.”
“I have a friend in the highest of high places,” she said suggestively. “He’s actually more like a fuck buddy.”
He snorted with indignant laughter. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Can’t wait.”
“You’re really all right?”
“I’m fine, but my hands and face hurt like a bitch. Why do they always have to go for the face?”
“I hope you arrested his ass and tossed him in the can.”
“It’s hot when you talk like a cop.”
“I mean it! He hurt you. What else did he do?”
“Participated in a gang rape and murder.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry I asked. Let me know when you’re on your way home.”
“I will. Tell the kids I look scary.”
“They won’t care. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She ended the call and put her throbbing head back for a minute, looking for relief from the pain. Then she remembered she needed to contact Tracy. Hopefully, she still had that theater makeup she’d used in the past to help Sam cover the carnage of the job. She used her flip phone to put through the call to her eldest sister.
“Madam First Lady, how nice to hear from you!”
“Shut your face with that shit.”
“Ah, I see your change in status hasn’t sweetened you up any.”
“It’s made me meaner than ever.”
“Dear God.”
“I have a situation I could use your help with.”
“What’s that?”
“I took an elbow to the face three hours before I have to meet with Mrs. Nelson—with photos—and one day before a network interview. I need that stage makeup you used on me the last time this happened.”
“I’ve gotcha covered. Text me when you’re on the way home.”
“I will.”
“You’re okay?”
“I will be, but my face and hands are a mess…”
“Ouch.”
“Hurts like a mofo.”
“I’ll get you fixed up for your meeting with Mrs. Nelson. And can I add that I cannot believe you’re going to the White House to get the 411 on how to be first lady?”
“Neither can I.” A thought occurred to her, one she
should’ve had before now. “You want to come with me?”
“What? Shut up!”
“I mean it. You and Ang should come. They didn’t say I had to come alone. If she wants one-on-one, I’ll meet alone with her while you guys check out my new digs. What do you say?”
“Holy crap, Sam. My roots are popping. I can’t go to the White House with roots.”
“Yes, you can. Put your hair up in a clip. That hides everything. I want you guys to come with me. Call Ang and meet me at the house in an hour or so. Okay?”
“This is crazy,” Tracy said, giggling like a girl. “I can’t believe you’re going to live at the freaking White House.”
“Well, believe it, and we’re going to have all the fun while we’re there.” If they had to make this huge life change, they might as well enjoy it as much as they possibly could.
Sam ended the call and held the phone to her chest, overwhelmed by her sister’s excitement. Tracy and Angela had been her touchstones all her life, and having them by her side for this latest adventure would make it bearable. She was glad she’d thought to invite them to come with her today, even if she should’ve had the idea sooner. Maybe it was better this way, since now they wouldn’t have time to melt down about it.
She dashed off a quick text to Lilia to let her know her sisters were coming to her meeting with Mrs. Nelson.
Lilia wrote right back. No problem. I’ll let her team know.
Thanks. You’ll be there too, right?
Wouldn’t miss it.
Sam felt better knowing the incredibly competent Lilia would be there to smooth the way for her.
As they got closer to GW, she called Dr. Anderson.
“Didn’t I just see you?”
“Funniest thing happened after I left you.”
“What’s that?”
“I took an elbow to the face and messed up my hands, and my buddy Cruz thinks I might need a stitch. Any chance you can get me in and out of there quickly? I have a meeting in two and a half hours with Mrs. Nelson that I can’t be late for.”
“This will require two punches on your frequent-flier card.”
“Everyone is a comedian today.”
Laughing, he said, “How far out are you?”
“Five minutes.”
“Come to the ambulance bay. I’ll meet you there.”
