by Beth Klein
Of course, she had taken the job. So far, it was an unmitigated disaster! Goulding was a dick, sexy, but an dick nonetheless and she had found that working for a living was far more difficult than studying for either one of her degrees. This was only her fourth day and already she had pissed off her boss, alienated half of the office and failed miserably in trying to figure out her predecessors filing system! Worst of all, there was still one day to go until the weekend. God only knew what she could mess up in that time!
The fact that Goulding’s predecessor had made such a swift exit was still something that she didn’t really understand. Madeline Carter was by all accounts a wonderful, highly efficient addition to Goulding’s campaign team. With only six weeks to go until D-Day, she left almost overnight. True, she had been offered a much more senior position with another Republican politician, but from what little she knew about the woman, Charlotte would have thought that she would have wanted to see out the campaign and help her boss to a seat in the White House. For no other reason than to prevent the considerable inconvenience involved in finding a replacement. Still, her loss was Charlotte’s gain and she was certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if this particular gift horse was beginning to look distinctly Trojan!
With the coffee complete and steaming in Goulding’s favorite, ‘Lincoln Lives On’ mug, she carefully made her way to his office with more than a little trepidation. Knocking politely, she waited for his invitation to enter and when he bade her, “Come” she entered.
“You’re coffee Senator,” she said.
At first she didn’t think that he heard her. He continued to read the memo in front of him. Finally he sighed, put the paper down on the desk and rubbed his eyes; every bit the man that was already feeling the weight of the nation on his shoulders.
“Thank you Charlotte,” he said in a tired voice. “About earlier, I...I want to apologize.”
“Really Sir, there’s no need, I”-
“No Charlotte, there is. It was rude, un-called for and not something I’m proud of.” He interrupted her with a small smile.
This was a first, maybe buried beneath the outer-asshole was a real human being. Although he worked exceptionally hard to make sure that the real Goulding remained very, very well hidden!
“I’m under all kinds of pressure at the minute, what with the schedule, the press, the men from...” Goulding trailed off. “Anyway, I’m sorry. You’re doing a great job here under exceptional circumstances and I want you to know that I appreciate it. When John told me that he had found someone to replace Madeline, I was skeptical, even after he showed me your exceptional list of qualifications, but you have already more than justified you’re appointment.”
“Well, I, I...” Charlotte stammered, unable to find the right words in the face of such an incredible compliment. “Senator Goulding, er...thank you.”
“Please, call me Bill.”
Goulding took a sip of his coffee and smiled up at Charlotte with genuine warmth and emotion. She had rarely seen her boss smile and never before without having previously had a camera thrust at him. The transformation was incredible and it completely changed every aspect of his face. He was a truly exceptional looking individual and the warmth of his smile spread to every feature. The creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth lent an air of reality to his otherwise sculpted looks. His eyes gleamed with humor and appeal and his perfect white teeth shone in stunning contrast to his flawless, tanned skin.
Charlotte felt her pulse quicken and a sensation similar to pins and needles run from the tips of her toes, up the full length of her body and culminated on her lips. It felt wonderfully alien and she blushed at the thought that this rude, arrogant man could inspire feelings that no one else ever had. She looked down, desperately trying to hide her embarrassment. When she felt confident enough to look at Goulding again, she saw that he had returned to his memo. Charlotte was surprised to realize that along with her profound relief was a deep-seated sense of disappointment.
Charlotte Turner was by no means an unattractive young woman. In fact, she was quite the opposite. She was beautiful. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the way that she looked, it was merely that she had never felt the need to enhance or emphasize it. For years, her brain had done the talking and everything she had ever accomplished had been the result of hard work, study and dedication to her scholarly pursuits. Being such a highly intelligent woman, she had also sought similar attributes in a potential lover and had found that the men frequenting the various colleges to be something of a letdown.
There had been the usual string of ‘jocks’ looking for a trophy blonde to parade around the school and hang off their arm with a look of pure adulation. There had also been the super intelligent nerds that had no place in this world of ‘beautiful people’ and had found her mind stimulating, but her good looks were incredibly intimidating. True, there had also been the middle of the road ‘normal’ men, but who wanted to settle for normal?
If she was honest with herself, she was probably just too picky. She was attracted to the chiseled good looks of the athletic types, but put off by their shallow outlook and demeanor. She was thrilled by the intelligence displayed by the intellectuals, but not exactly wowed by their reclusive nature and less than exceptional physical stature, and she simply wasn’t prepared to accept mediocrity.
It wasn’t merely theorizing either. She had dated men from all three of these groups. Almost out of a sense of normality, in order to do what was expected, she had dipped into uncharted waters and tried to find someone that could fulfill her physical needs in the same way that her studies had satisfied her mental ones. Without exception, she had been left sorely disappointed.
Charlie had been the captain of the wrestling team and was handsome, broad shouldered and imposing. Unfortunately, he had also been vacuous, boring and intent on getting into her panties without first trying to unlock her mind. She had gone as far as tolerating his unskilled fumbling on their first two dates, before she could no longer carry on kidding herself and had called the whole thing off.
Simon had been an acknowledged mathematics genius. His passion and talent had intrigued and inspired her. Intellectual he might have been, but Simon was a social pariah and with great intelligence, also came great arrogance and bad manners. He simply couldn’t understand anyone that wasn’t as clever as he was and tended to treat them with disdain and derision. Even when faced with an intellect as well recognized as Charlotte’s, he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it, as it wasn’t in one of the ‘classical fields’. Simon wasn’t really threatened by Charlotte, he just never saw her as being on the same level as he was and tended to treat her with a tolerant, elitist air. He was also a terrible kisser and after an evening of lifeless, disappointing petting she had learnt more than enough to know that he wasn’t ‘the one’.
Jeremy had been the middle-of-the-road man and at first things had looked really promising. He was handsome, polite, and clever without being exceptional. He seemed genuinely interested in her as a person instead of merely a brain or a body. They had dated for a couple of weeks and she had found him to be entertaining company and a wonderful distraction from her life of dedicated study. Unfortunately for Jeremy, that was all he proved to be—a distraction. He was fun to be with, but he had no real depth or substance and certainly not sufficient allure to drag her away from her books for any great length of time. Neither one had wanted to admit it, but they were clearly looking for very different things in life. When they eventually did go their separate ways, it was more a relief than a wrench.
So there it was. She was alone, un-touched, virginal and thoroughly disheartened with the whole dating thing. She had dipped her toes into the water and found only ‘boys’ instead of the man and equal she had so hoped to find. Worse still, the whole disappointing sequence of events had been such a disaster that she had pretty much come to the conclusion that she would never find the right man for her and as a result, s
he had even stopped looking.
If she couldn’t study and excel at college, she would persevere and excel at work. As far as potential relationships were concerned she would adhere to the words of Buddha, ‘Health is the greatest gift, contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.’ She would be faithful to her career and forget everything else.
* * *
Goulding’s good mood was fleeting and before long he returned to roaring at his staff again and generally prowling around like a bear with a sore head. He pulled them up on their tardiness, criticized their accuracy and even had the audacity to refer to John Lennon as a hopeless wannabe with only half the talent he thought he had and nothing at all when compared to Elvis. This last comment had seen John Lyndsey calmly collect his belongings and march out of the office amidst a flurry of abuse from Goulding. Both men knew it was a hollow statement and that Lyndsey would be back again the next morning. However, as with the previous four times he had ‘resigned’, he would make Goulding call him to apologize before he did. After all, everyone knew Lennon was the superior musician—Elvis didn’t even write his own songs!
Charlotte kept her head down and concentrated on her work and when five-thirty ticked by and Goulding emerged from his office, ready to head home. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had survived another day. Better still, apart from the shaky start, she was sure that things were getting better.
“Charlotte, get yourself home. It’s late and you’ve worked hard today”, he paused momentarily. “NOT LIKE SOME I COULD MENTION!” He raised his voice for the benefit of the rest of his staff, but they merely kept their heads down and pretended not to hear him.
“Go on, all of you. Go home. We’ve got another long day ahead of us tomorrow and the Memphis trip to finalize next week. Get some rest and we’ll start a fresh in the morning. I’ll lock up and I’ll see you all back here at eight.”
He looked at Charlotte.
“That’s eight AM, Miss Turner.”
Although the sarcasm was obvious, she could see the distant creases at the corners of his mouth and eyes, just like in his office. Charlotte allowed herself a private smile and decided that it was about time she wore a bit of make-up and started taking some pride in her appearance. Bill Goulding definitely wasn’t as bad as she had first thought.
When the last person had left the office, Goulding looked around at the empty desks and the remnants of organized chaos that accompanied his presidency campaign’s every move. His team had been handpicked and every one of them had something to offer, something that made them the best in his or her chosen field. He rode them hard, often unfairly so, but secretly he was humbled and proud that they were working so hard to get him elected.
“Tomorrow,” he thought. “Tomorrow, I’ll make it up to them. I’ll let them know how much I value their input.” But he knew he wouldn’t. Something would happen to sour his mood and just like every other day, he would see his mood dictate his actions and words. He knew he was an asshole, but he wasn’t sure that he could change the way he was and anyway. They were well paid to put up with him.
It was like a marriage, they took the good with the bad, the rough with the smooth. There was an easy out if any of them had enough, but he was confident that none of them would. If nothing else, he was good for their careers. They had backed a winning horse and without exception they would ride with him right up to the finish line and in some cases, right into the White House. Everyone stayed loyal, with the exception of Madeline that was. She was the exception to the rule—in every sense.
Goulding turned off the lights, set the alarm and locked the door.
“Six more weeks,” he thought to himself. “Just let me have the strength to get through the next six weeks and we’ll all be home and dry.”
Shivering slightly, he buttoned his suit jacket against the un-seasonally chilly evening air and cursed his decision to leave the car at home that morning. It was only a few blocks to the office and with the sun greeting him cheerily when he had thrown back the drapes, walking had seemed like the perfect start to the day. Now with a bracing wind stirring up the fallen leaves into mini-tornados and the shadows lengthening with every passing minute, it seemed much more like folly than good sense.
“No point in whining about it Bill,” he said to himself and set off along Main Street, a lone figure in the deepening gloom.
Neon signs flickered into life as the bars woke and prepared to greet the evening’s clientele and as the day shift prepared to wind down and rest, the night shift readied itself for the nocturnal revelers to appear. It wasn’t so long ago that Goulding had been a fully paid up member of the night shift. First, with his fellow Rangers, whenever their shift rotation would allow it, then more recently as a solitary figure, all hilarity forgotten, with the sole intention of drinking himself into oblivion. The only desire was to once and for all silence the voices and the pain of a life lost to him.
After his wake up call, Goulding had gone from a hardened drinker to a man that barely touched the stuff. The exception being a glass or two at Thanksgiving and the usual toasts that protocol demanded. Did he miss it? Every single day.
It would be the work of a second to walk into a bar, draw up a stool and climb inside a bottle of bourbon. All of the pressures, the responsibilities and the personal scrutiny would disappear in an instant and a part of him knew he would welcome the anonymity with open arms. Unfortunately, he also knew it was a place he was highly unlikely to escape from a second time. This time it would take hold and only release him when he was no longer able to raise the glass to his lips. No, he was better off without the strong stuff. It was harder, so much harder, but it was definitely a better life without it.
Goulding turned right onto Mulberry Avenue and was relieved to find that the wind wasn’t as bad as it had been on Main Street. He loosened his shoulders, not realizing that he had been hunched over and instantly he felt the familiar stab of pain in his chest and shoulder. It was always worst when he was tense and the weather was bad, but it soon went away. Some things he would never be able to escape from no matter how hard he ran, or how strong his resolve was.
On a good day, he would use the pain to remind himself that it was the moment that his life had begun again, this time for the better. On a bad day, it was merely the day that the life he had chosen for himself had come to an end and this new existence had been forced upon him.
Mulberry Avenue was quiet, really quiet and Goulding could hear the steady rhythm of his feet echoing around the dark shop fronts and apartments. It was only 6:10, but the street was his private domain and military veteran or not, it made him nervous.
There were plenty of psychos out there only too happy to make their point by targeting presidential candidates, especially those that received as many column inches as Goulding did. He cursed his stubbornness in refusing the protection that Lyndsey had recommended. Even as he quickened his pace he made a mental note to discuss it with the little man in the morning. If he had forgiven him by then that was.
He was only five minutes away from the hotel when he heard the footsteps for the first time. At first he thought it must have been a rogue echo caused by the uneven shop fronts, but after calming his breathing and concentrating, he could clearly hear them. Whoever was following him carefully stayed concealed. He was good, very good and the footsteps were almost perfectly timed to his own stride and pace. Had it not been for the extreme quietness of the street, he might never have heard his pursuer, but he had and now his body coursed with adrenaline.
He stopped and the footsteps stopped with him. When he turned around the street was quiet and empty, shrouded in half-light and apparently reluctant to give up its hidden secrets. Perhaps he had been mistaken, or maybe he had simply imagined the footsteps? Tentatively he restarted walking and after a few seconds he heard them again, almost perfectly in time with his own footfall, but definitely another person.
Goulding ran through his options in his head; could
he continue as he was and make it to the hotel before whoever was following him caught up? Possibly, but the footsteps didn’t sound more than twenty or thirty meters away and anyone who was being so careful to remain concealed was unlikely to let their target slip away.
Could he try and outrun his pursuer? Again, it was possible, but Goulding had been out of the army for a long time and he was now far more used to undergoing two-hour long lunches than pushing himself to the limit on two-hour long speed marches. There was no telling how old or how fit his pursuer was and if he ran, it would be bound to bring this thing to a conclusion much more quickly. Goulding was far from confident he could still remember enough of his Ranger training to work those odds in his favor. What else then?
Evasion—the only thing that he was confident about was his ability to lose this individual somewhere on route to the hotel. His body might not be as toned and tested as it once was, but his mind was still as sharp and focused as the day they had presented him with his Rangers Tab.
Making sure that his step never faltered and all the while straining to keep the sound of the strangers footsteps forefront in his mind, he scanned ahead, eyes flicking from one feature to the next. His mind desperately tried to find something that would give him the advantage and a chance to surprise his pursuer. Waste bins – no, irregular shop fronts – no, bus shelter – no, come on! There must be something he could use. Then he saw it, a narrow alley about twenty meters ahead on his right. It might be a dead end and it might provide his pursuer with the quiet solitude he needed to conduct whatever business he had with Goulding away from prying eyes, but it might also give Goulding sufficient cover to duck out of site and hide from this crazed bastard long enough for them to think they’d lost him for good.
He walked on and the alley got closer and closer; fifteen meters...ten meters...five meters...now! Without any kind of warning, he accelerated from a slow walk to a full-paced run and disappeared into the alley. It was dark and claustrophobic, but at least it wasn’t a dead-end and it had plenty of discarded obstacles that were perfect for concealing a man. His eyes were constantly searching for an optimal hiding place. He ran on until he had been completely swallowed by the shadows. He focused immediately on a pile of old cardboard boxes that had been stacked against the wall and forgotten. There was a gap behind them, just big enough to accommodate a man and he made for it, pressing himself into the damp brickwork and easing himself sideways until he was completely concealed. Then he waited.
