by Robin Allen
“It doesn’t matter,” Edwinna said. “It’s how you run the campaign and how much money you’ve got behind you.” She released a nasty chuckle. “And my Daddy has plenty of it.”
Medu joined them. “So we meet again?” he said. “Congratulations on Mr. Hudson’s victory.”
“Thank you,” Sage said.
“I don’t think Sage had anything to do with it,” Edwinna said.
Medu flashed Edwinna a perplexed look. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“People voted for Cameron, not Sage,” Edwinna explained.
With a curious expression on his face, Medu asked, “Are you ready?”
Edwinna bobbed her head, although she wished she were going home with Ramion. She even thought of Ramion while in bed with Medu.
“It was a great victory party, Sage,” Medu said.
“Thanks, Medu,” Sage said, wondering how the mellow artist tolerated Edwinna’s abrasive manner. “I’m just glad it’s over.”
“Let’s go,” Edwinna said, grabbing Medu’s hand.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind when it’s time to actually declare her candidacy,” Ramion said after Edwinna and Medu left the hotel ballroom.
“I don’t think so, Ramion.” Sage’s intuition warned her that Edwinna could be dangerous. “She won’t give up easily.”
“That doesn’t change anything for me,” he said, running his hand down her arm. His voice lightened. “Are you still going to be my campaign manager?”
“You know it, honey,” she said, grinning. “And we’re going to win. Edwinna is just going to make it ugly. But after this election, I can’t imagine an uglier campaign.” Sage drank the last of her white wine. “I’m exhausted.”
“So where do you want to stay tonight? Your place or mine?”
“I’m too tired to walk to the car and drive anywhere.”
Ramion kissed her on the forehead. “Why don’t we stay here? I’ll rent us a room.”
“Wonderful idea. I’ll go say good night to Cam and meet you in the lobby.”
* * * * *
Ramion kissed Sage like a thirsty man drinking water, drowning in the scent of her, the feel of her, and the taste of her soft, brown, smooth skin. She kissed him back with equal hunger, pressing her nakedness against his hard muscled body. Their bodies twisted into a smoldering tangle of hungry flesh that neither wanted to unravel.
Ramion wrapped his hands around Sage’s huge breasts; his hungry mouth covered her nipples. He sucked and moaned and buried his face in her breasts, his thumb flicking over her nipples, creating ricocheting bullets of heat and working their bodies into a frenzy. He massaged the soft skin of her thighs and buttocks, and Sage’s pliant body shivered with his touch. Ramion eased himself above her, his throbbing sex at heaven’s door.
“Ramion,” she breathed, her eyes closed, her back arched, waiting for him to enter her.
Ramion kissed her on the lips, the sides of her neck and shoulders, his sex touching and teasing her to ecstasy.
Sage writhed with expectation. “Ramion,” she moaned.
“Open your eyes,” Ramion whispered. He stared into her eyes as his fingers stroked the insides of her thighs.
Sage shivered and writhed, anxious for Ramion to be inside.
“I love you,” Ramion said and thrust himself into her.
Sage closed her eyes and felt herself glide away like a cloud floating in the sky. Rocking and arching against him, her legs locked around his back. They rose together, higher and higher, until at last they touched heaven and then fell asleep before returning to earth.
* * * * *
When Sage woke the next morning, Ramion was not in bed beside her. She called out his name, but there was no answer. Her clothes were lying haphazardly on the chair across the room. Her black dress lay tangled along with her pantyhose on the floor. Her suede shoes weren’t far away. She didn’t have a change of clothes, toothbrush, comb or curling iron. She didn’t have to work today, but she didn’t want to leave the hotel in the same clothes she’d come in.
Sage leaned back against the pillows and picked up the telephone. She started to check her messages, but changed her mind and returned the receiver to the cradle. She didn’t feel like dealing with work. Instead, she pressed the Power button on the TV remote and scanned the stations for the local news. She listened to CNN’s report on the election.
She looked around the hotel room, decorated with expensive French pine furniture, for a note from Ramion. She checked on the nightstands, the armoire, the desk and the rose-colored sofa and chair, but came up empty.
Sitting upright against the pillows on the king-sized bed, she half listened to the television. She closed her eyes. Her body, she realized, still tingled with passion. Her thoughts spiraled back to the first time she saw Ramion at the United Negro College Fund telethon.
* * * * *
He sat on the other side of the table, taking phone calls from donators, while she sat across from him. She caught him staring at her several times. Smiling self-consciously, she hoped the cameras didn’t catch them smiling and flirting with each other. After the telethon, Ramion introduced himself and they talked briefly, mostly about the college fund.
“It’s a great cause,” Sage said. “I’m glad to be a part of it.”
“I do it every year,” Ramion said. “UNCF helped get me through college.”
“Oh, where did you go?” Sage asked politely, noticing the expensive cut of his suit, his polished manner and his intoxicating smile.
“Howard University.”
“Really? I’m from that area. Baltimore.”
The conversation ended abruptly as they were interrupted by the volunteer chairman. Before walking away, Ramion tucked his business card into her hand.
Later that evening, when Tawny teased her about flirting on television with a “fine, fine brother”, Sage admitted she couldn’t help herself.
But Sage didn’t call him. She believed that the man should make the first move, and she was afraid of the feelings he had evoked in their brief conversation.
She stared at his home number written on the back of his business card, but she wouldn’t pick up the phone. If he’s interested, she decided, he’ll call me.
* * * * *
Sage heard Ramion’s key in the door, rousing her from her stroll down memory lane. “Good morning, honey.”
Ramion entered the hotel room carrying a Macy’s shopping bag. Before Sage could ask about it, Ramion kissed her and said, “You slept late.”
“You wore me out last night,” Sage said with a coy smile.
“I thought it was the election,” he rejoined.
Sage smiled at him. “Something for me in that bag?”
“I knew you wouldn’t want to put on yesterday’s clothes.” He handed her the shopping bag.
Sage got out the bed, eager for a peek. There were several smaller bags inside. She pulled out a red pantsuit and black blouse from one bag and a bra and matching panties from another.
“They’re all beautiful. You’ve got taste, baby.”
His eyes traveling from Sage’s large breasts to her long, shapely legs, he said, “You got that right.”
When she opened a third bag, she found a pair of flat red shoes and black stockings.
“Umm, you thought of everything,” Sage said. “I love it, and would you believe I’ve been looking at this suit? Thank you so much.” She gave Ramion a soft kiss on the cheek. “Order me some breakfast while I get dressed, okay?”
“I’m starving too,” Ramion said. “Did you see Drew’s editorial?”
“No, I haven’t looked at the paper.”
“He wrote a very interesting analysis of the election.”
“I’ll take a look after I get dressed.”
* * * * *
Sage was a blur of red when she came out the bathroom. The single-breasted jacket hung past her hips, matching the pleated, cuffed pants. Her size 36D breasts threatened to spill out of
the snug-fitting black blouse.
“You look delicious,” Ramion said with a smile that not only created tremors in Sage, but also displayed the cleft in Ramion’s chin. “Delectable,” Ramion said, admiring her as she walked toward him.
“Well, red is my favorite color.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Thank you, honey. I might have to hire you as my fashion consultant; you did such a good job picking everything.”
“You know, come to think of it, red reminds me of candy apples.” Ramion paused and moved closer, eyeing her like a piece of fruit. “I want to take a bite.”
* * * * *
“I told you to kill him!” the old man screamed, his bony finger pointed at his son.
“Father, suspicion would have been directed at us in a heartbeat if I had him killed in the middle of the campaign.”
“Like hell. Those people get killed every day. You could have paid some crack addict to shoot him, and he would have done it for chump change.”
“Yeah, well, we just have to reexamine the situation,” the son said.
“There’d be nothing to reexamine if you had listened to me. I should have never put you in charge. Resurfacing those FBI files certainly didn’t work.”
“Frankly, Father, I didn’t believe Hudson could win the election. I didn’t think he had a prayer of capturing the white vote.”
“Traitors, that’s what they are.”
“I realize now, Father, that different measures are called for.”
“Such as?”
“Just because Hudson is governor doesn’t mean he has to stay governor.”
“Okay, son, now you’re starting to think right. But we missed our window of opportunity Getting rid of him now won’t put Baker in the governor’s office,” the old man said. “It’ll just mean the lieutenant governor will take over. Ah well, he’s not my choice, but at least he’s white.”
“So we’re agreed, first we watch his family…”
“Uh-huh, keep talking.”
“And keep a close eye on people close to him.” The younger man grinned and licked his lips. “I would love to get more than my eyes on his campaign manager, though.”
“Don’t get sidetracked, boy!”
“I wouldn’t call focusing on her getting sidetracked. If it weren’t for her, Senator Baker would be taking his rightful place.”
“That’s right, boy. And he would make a fine governor. I knew his grandfather when he was governor. He was one of the good old boys.”
“Well, those days are long gone, Father. We have to concentrate on the present, which means figuring out the right time to take action. I’ve called a meeting for next Friday.”
“All right! Now you’re showing some spunk,” the old man said.
Chapter Four
Sage Kennedy walked into the Fulton County North Annex government building, carrying her purse, briefcase and laptop computer. She struggled with her unwieldy baggage as she pressed the elevator button and then stepped back to wait for the elevator to arrive.
“Congratulations, Sage, on a job well done,” said Roy, a friendly, older black man who supervised the building’s cleaning crew. “You’re one tough cookie,” he added with a gold-toothed grin. “I was real sorry to hear about you getting hurt in that explosion. Me and my wife prayed for you.”
“Thank you, Roy. I appreciate your concern. It means a lot.”
“But, we got the last laugh, didn’t we? We got us a black governor after all.”
“You’re right,” she said, with a light chuckle. “But the battle has just begun.”
“Yeah, but Mr. Hudson got a master plan,” Roy said. “I know that’s right.”
The elevator doors opened and the old man stepped back. “Have a good one,” he said.
Sage stepped off the elevator at the fifth floor and walked around the corner to the relocated campaign headquarters. The door was open, and she moved into the reception area. “Hudson for Governor” posters still hung on the walls, and campaign brochures remained scattered on the coffee table, sofa and receptionist’s desk.
“Good morning, Sage,” Marika said. A large contemporary painting in muted shades of mauve, blue and green hung on the wall behind Marika, complementing the mauve walls and carpet through the office suite. Holding up two fingers in V formation, she added, “Victory!”
“I’m just glad it’s all over.”
“Me too,” Marika agreed. “I thought it would be quiet today, but the phones haven’t stopped ringing. Reporters are calling for interviews, and…”
“I’m not surprised. When is Cam coming in?” Sage asked.
“At eleven.”
Sage looked at her gold watch. “Good, that gives me some time to get some work done.”
Sage placed the laptop and briefcase on her desk and tucked her purse away in a drawer. Next, she looked through her mailbox, separating the mail into three piles—read, file, Cameron. She went through her briefcase and pulled out several file folders.
For the next two hours, Sage worked at her computer, printing reports and documents for Cameron’s review. When he arrived, she heard him talking to Marika before heading down the hall to his office, whistling a happy tune.
A half hour later, she went around the corner to his office. He was on the phone when she entered, sipping coffee from his “Mayor of Atlanta” mug while listening to the other party. She placed several files in front of him and was turning around to leave when Cameron hung up the phone.
“That was some celebration,” Cameron said. “No one wanted to leave.”
“Folks were just so happy that you were elected.”
“I’ll tell you, Sage, I was sweating bullets all afternoon. It didn’t look like we were going to win.”
“So was I. All I have to say is thank goodness for the late voters.”
“And the first-time voters.”
“I was happy that the bombing didn’t scare people away from the polls.”
Cameron nodded. “That worried Sarah too.”
With a soft chuckle, Sage said, “Who knows, maybe it scared away the people who were going to vote for Baker.”
“You just might be right about that.”
“But now we get the pleasure of hiring your staff,” she said, handing him a list of names for positions in his new administration.
“Some interesting names you have here,” Cameron said, perusing the report through the reading glasses perched on his nose.
“I know you don’t care much for Harry,” Sage said, “but he’s perfect for the job.”
“True, he’s just mean as hell.”
“Well, it’s not like we’ll be dealing with him on a daily basis.”
Cameron scribbled some notes on the report, crossing off names and adding others to consider for his staff. He wore a crisp white button-down shirt with his initials—CJH—embroidered on the cuff. The red-and-blue diamond-patterned tie matched the suspenders and pocket scarf in the custom-made suit jacket that hung on the back of the door.
“I’m also compiling a list of legislators who we may be able to influence on the vote for a new flag,” Sage said.
The noisy chair squeaked as Cameron leaned his football-player frame back in the chair and focused on Sage. “That’s why I hired you. You stay on top of things,” he said, giving her an affectionate smile.
“If you want to change the flag in the next legislative session, we have to move quickly.”
“Sister, I like your style.”
“Thanks,” she said with a light chuckle. “Well, tell me, has Sarah started packing?”
“She started talking about it last night.”
“Are you going to sell the house?”
“I don’t think so. Sarah wants to, but four years will fly by. Who knows if I’ll be reelected. For now, I think we’ll just rent it out.”
“Excuse me,” Marika said. “These flowers arrived for you,” she said, handing Sage a vase filled with a dozen white roses.
“T
hanks,” Sage said, admiring the beauty of the delicate flowers.
“Your mother is on the phone,” Marika said in a curious tone. She had worked for Sage for three years and couldn’t remember her mother ever calling. She noticed the warm smile on Sage’s face transform into a frown.
“I’ll take it in my office,” Sage said as she walked out of Cameron’s office.
Sage placed the vase on her desk. She opened the card and read the message:
Congratulations on winning! I’m so very proud of you.
Love,
Mama
She walked around her desk and sat down. She glanced at the blinking button on the telephone and for a moment considered ignoring the call, surmising that her mother would eventually hang up. But the line continued to blink.
Releasing a heavy sigh, Sage depressed the flashing button and picked up the receiver. “Hello,” she said dryly.
“Oh, Sage,” Audra said, relieved that Sage finally answered the phone. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you and how much…”
“Thank you for the flowers.”
“I’m sorry about Aaron showing up like that. I told him not to come but he wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t trying to trick you. I just wanted you and…”
“Mama, I’m really busy right now.”
“Did you hear me, Sage? I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
“It really doesn’t matter. I have to go. Thanks for the flowers,” Sage said and hung up the phone.
* * * * *
Ramion turned into his parents’ subdivision, where all the streets were named after women—Mary Ellen Terrace, Susan Drive, Elizabeth Street, Anna Maria Way. It was an older development, built in the late 1960s, when carports and porches were the architectural rage. Most of the homes were ranches or split-levels, featuring long driveways, wide picturesque windows and lots of trees and shrubbery.
It was a picture-perfect Thanksgiving Day—the leaves were orange and yellow, and the sun was bright and glowing.
“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting your family,” Sage said.
“You should have met them sooner, but…”
