by Abby Angel
"Alright, one more!" Austin continues in a gleeful tone, handing Tracy the open bottle of champagne and opening another. We’re inside Tracy’s office, and the room is completely packed with staff members, all of them in a celebratory mood. Why? Easy enough: Austin’s jobs bill has just passed.
Despite Walker’s best efforts, Austin’s showmanship was just too much for the disgruntled Speaker of the House. And, after so many months of pushing his bill and fighting the Senate, Austin has finally done it.
"Come here," he tells me, resting the second bottle of champagne on Tracy’s desk and coming up to me. He takes one hand to my waist and pulls me into him, his lips looking for mine. "This victory … you’re part of it, you know?" he tells me, looking into my eyes with a soft smile.
Smiling back at him, I tuck one lock of hair over my hair. "No, this is all you," I tell him, going on tiptoes and brushing my lips against his again. "All you," I repeat, pushing one glass of champagne into his hands while I take a sip from mine.
"We deserve this break. I think I’m finally putting all the scandals and bullshit behind my back, and that’s --" He trails off as the door to Tracy’s office swings open, and an intern with disheveled hair steps inside.
"I… I…" the young intern starts, bending down and placing both hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. "Walker… Walker just held a… a press conference." The intern finally manages to say and, judging by the tone of his voice, whatever Walker said at the press conference wasn’t good.
Wasting no time, Tracy pulls her phone from her purse and boots it up. A few seconds later and she’s holding her breath. "Fuck," she hisses, and that’s all I need to know that whatever happened, must be really bad; Tracy never curses.
"What’s going on?" Austin asks her, and her eyes jump from him to me.
"Walker, he… he wants to impeach you."
"Impeach me? That’s absurd! How the hell does he --"
"Austin," Tracy whispers, lowering her voice and wetting her lips with her tongue. "He said that your relationship is a fake one… He’s saying that you made a fool out of the country and out of your voters. He’s saying all sorts of things about your integrity, and he’s calling for a special investigation."
Austin doesn’t say anything and Tracy goes to the television and turns it on.
It’s the news. The TV screens are usually on in here, but the one day they were off is the day that Speaker Walker has to try and impeach the President.
You know? It’s like, can the universe give us a break?
Tracy turns up the volume.
"And I have it on good authority, that the President of the United States, acting in collusion with his Chief of Staff, Tracy Comerford, have engineered a situation to fool the American people into believing for whatever reason that he’s going to get married," Walker says on television.
The room is silent. I can hear my own heart beating so loudly though.
"Why, I don’t know, the President would want to do this, but this woman we have no idea over. We need to investigate her and we need to remove a President with such bad judgment," he says.
Tracy turns off the television. The sounds of laughter and cheer, just a few moments ago, have vanished.
"Fuck," Austin mutters, his face suddenly growing pale. Walking around Tracy’s desk, he sinks down onto her chair, staring at the glass of champagne in his hand, almost as if it held the answers he needs. "Ashley, Tracy… The two of you, stay. Everyone else, leave the room. Please."
Nobody dares to question him; I hear the shuffling of feet as everyone rushes out of the office, and then someone closes the door. The mood inside the office was a celebratory one, but now that mood has soured like a bad wine.
"We’re fucked," Austin growls, looking up to meet Tracy’s gaze. He’s gripping the glass in his hand so tightly that I expect the glass to shatter sometime soon. He’s angry, I can tell, and that makes my heart tighten up inside my chest; after how hard he's worked, everything could go up in smoke.
"How the hell did he find out?" Tracy says as she sits on one of the chairs lined against the wall of her office. She’s pinching the bridge of her nose, a nervous tick that surfaces whenever she’s at a loss on what to do.
"This plan was too risky… we shouldn’t have done this," Austin whispers, still looking down at his glass. Maybe he’s right but, still, his words make my heart ache; if it weren’t for this plan, Austin and I would have never crossed paths. But I can’t think of that now. No, I came to the White House to do a job, not to fall in love.
"Fuck," Austin continues, finally letting go of his glass and slamming his fist down on the desk. The glass wobbles from side to side and tumbles forward, champagne spreading over the surface of Tracy’s desk. "This is fucking serious."
"Calm down," Tracy says, jumping up to her feet. "We can… we can hold a press conference and deny all this. He doesn’t have any proof, and we made sure nothing exists in writing. Even if he manages to provoke a special investigation, no one will be able to figure out we hired Ashley. He can’t prove a thing, and I think that we --"
"You’re forgetting something, Tracy," Austin cuts her short. "If we go down that route, I’d have to really marry Ashley," he says, pursing his lips and giving Tracy a cold stare.
Without saying a word, I sit down on the chair facing Tracy’s desk and look down at my lap, Austin’s words echoing inside my head. The way he said it, it’s almost like the last thing he wants in the world is to marry me. Somewhere along the way, I guess I started believing that our fake relationship was becoming something else … but I guess I was wrong.
"No one will have the guts to impeach you," I finally manage to say, looking from Tracy to Austin and putting my game face on. "I have enough dirt to bury at least half the senate. They won’t lift a finger against you."
"No," Austin dismisses me with a wave of his hand. "I’m not sinking down to that level. I thought you knew me better, Ashley. I’m better than that" Then, changing gears fast, he narrows his eyes into slits and locks them on mine. "Who in your office knew about the deal?"
"What are you trying to say? Only one other person knows of our deal, and I trust her with my life, Austin. Don’t try and accuse me or my people, when you’re the one surrounded by people who make their living by lying!"
"Don’t act so mighty now. That’s exactly what you do for a living," he says flatly, his cold stare making me feel as if someone stabbed me through the heart.
I hold my breath for a few seconds, and then I let the air out of my lungs fast, exhaling sharply. Screw this; I don’t have to put up with this bullshit.
God, I was doing fine before they came up to me and dragged me into this mess. Here I am, trying to help him and he’s treating me as if I’m some stupid intern whose mistake caused all this. No, I’m not going to allow him to treat me like this.
Standing up fast, I take the ring off of my finger and throw it against him. Austin doesn’t move as the ring bounces from his chest and falls on the floor at his feet.
"It was your stupid dick that put you in this mess," I hiss, offering him a cold stare of my own. "Maybe your dick can think of a way out." Snapping my heels together, I turn around to leave.
Grabbing at the handle, I open the door and, before leaving, I look at Austin over my shoulder.
"Check the Oval Office for bugs. My office is as clean as a whistle; I made sure of it. If I were Walker, that’s how I would've done it."
Without giving him enough time to think of a reply, I slam the door behind me.
I should've never gotten involved in this whole charade.
Austin
I watch as she slides the ring off of her slender finger, and throws it at me. Even though it's a completely unexpected act—I mean, I couldn't have guessed that this was going to happen, even if you offered me millions of dollars—so I stand there and watch it all as if it's in slow motion. And when it hits my chest—that very moment of impact—it snaps me out of my fucki
ng rage. It's instantaneous.
You know what’s fucking hilarious?
I never cared for that fucking ring. I was happy when she was asking if she could keep it when we were done.
But her handing it back to me.
I don’t know. It’s got a feeling of finality to it.
"It was your stupid dick that put you in this mess," Ashley says, her words hitting me like venom, and her eyes cold as ice. I've never felt her as cold and distant as she is right now, not even when we first met. "Maybe your dick can think of a way out."
She leaves, slamming the door shut behind her, and in that moment I realize that I've hurt her. This knowledge makes my mind reel.
I want to go and run after her—to wrap her in my arms and tell her that I'm so fucking sorry, more sorry than she'll ever know. I want to tell her that it all came out wrong, and that I was just pissed off at the whole situation and what's at stake, and that I'm an asshole for jumbling my words and allowing them to fall out of my mouth in such a tangled mess.
Of course, I don't do any of those things.
I've really fucked things up, and I know that.
I know that this is serious as a heart attack.
But as much as I want to run after Ashley, I know I have to handle this situation just right, with a degree of delicacy. I need to use a deft hand, or I'll not only lose Ashley, but the White House as well.
I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen.
There's a whole lot at stake here.
In fact, everything is on the fucking line. And I can't rely on anyone else to solve this for me. I have to solve it for myself. This is just another hurdle, in a series of never-ending hurdles that life is going to throw my way, and I've got to overcome them.
Haven't I overcome gigantic roadblocks in my life before? I need to think of this as just another one. I need to keep a cool, calm head.
And I'm Austin fucking Bain. I refuse to be a footnote in history.
Remember when I told you that I'm a competitive person? Yeah, well, competitive is an understatement. I don't even know the meaning of the word 'lose.'
And Ashley's words haunt me. She said to check the Oval Office for bugs, and it makes sense, now that I think about it.
I think she's right. Why wouldn't Bob Walker try to bug this place?
I just wish I had thought of that sooner.
Immediately, I call Tracy into my office, and as she steps in, I close the door behind her. "Listen, have the Oval Office swept for bugs," I instruct her, "and quickly."
"I'm assuming you don't mean the kind that crawl on multiple legs. You think someone's been spying on us?" she asks, her eyes wide.
"Not someone," I say, "Bob fucking Walker."
I can see the realization of it dawn on her face. There's a moment of recognition, and she seems to agree. The more I think about it, the more sense it continues to make.
"I'm on it," she says.
"And one more thing," I continue. "Arrange a televised press conference."
When?" she asks.
"For tomorrow night, I can't waste any time."
"What are you going to say?" Tracy asks.
That's a damn good question. I'm wracking my brain.
"Truthfully, I don't know," I reply. "But I'll figure that out."
Tracy nods, making notes in an app on her cell phone.
"Oh, and another thing," I say. "Just make sure Ashley is there."
"Are you sure that's a good idea? She stormed out of here, and seemed pretty upset."
"Just do it, please—it's important."
Tracy reluctantly nods her head, as if she's resigned to the idea and there's nothing she can do about it. "Okay, I'll do my best."
"Thanks, I believe in you, Tracy."
"That's a lot of pressure," she grins.
"I know you'll make it happen," I say, patting her on the shoulder.
As Tracy leaves the office, my mind continues to spin like a top, twirling through every possible scenario, every possible narrative that I could give at tonight's press conference.
What I know for certain is that I'm not giving up Ashley.
I'm not giving up the presidency. No. We’ve done too much good. We’ve fixed the country too much. Too many people are still left to help.
I pace around the office like a tiger pacing inside of a cage. I feel that every muscle in my body is tense, and ready for action.
If Bob Walker thinks I'm going to step out of the arena with my tail tucked between my legs, he's sorely mistaken. If there's any fucking man up to this challenge, it's me.
I remind myself that that this is where I am because I took chances. I knew from the beginning that it was a risky endeavor. And still, I took that risk.
Why? Because at the end of the day, life favors the bold. That's the honest fucking truth. That's where real success can be found.
Show up. Be bold. Fake it if you have to.
I don't give a fuck what anyone says. I will always take my chances.
And that's exactly what I'm going to do tonight.
Roll the dice. Spin the roulette wheel. Play my hand.
Tomorrow night, I'm going to fucking take my chances in front of the entire world.
An idea starts formulating in my brain. I can feel a switch in momentum, and I feel like I'm onto something. I don't give a fuck if anyone thinks that this is the craziest idea ever.
You know why? Because no matter what—come hell or high water—nothing is stopping me. Tomorrow night I'm going down in history.
For good or for bad—I'll be in the next generation of history books, that's for fucking sure.
I scroll through every legal contact I have in my phone.
It's time to call the experts.
Washington Beat
Future First Lady? Or First Mistress? First Booty Call?
From the desk of Margie Preston – our savvy but slightly sappy political reporter
Wow wee!!! Did you see the last 24 hours people? Have you followed on what’s been happening? Because events are changing minute to minute and if you don’t keep up, you’ll soon find yourself needing a map you’ll be so lost.
But just in case you missed something that happened in the news because you know, life, let me break it down for you.
So, to start…the President is single again!!! Yay!! It turns out that Mr. President is really just Mr. Fake Fiancé. At least that’s what the offices of Speaker of the House Bob Walker are stating. To quote the Speaker in his televised address, "I have irrefutable proof that the President of the United States hired Ms. Draper with the express intention of pretending to be his fiancée for the purposes of publicity. The whole operation was a political PR job. With no goal other than to deceive the American people."
If that sounds a bit harsh, the Speaker went on to get even harsher. "Ms. Draper received no vetting from the government. She was not cleared for any sensitive information. And in her prior dealings, she has rubbed shoulders with many people who work for institutions and states that could be hostile to the interests of the United States. It’s entirely possible that Ms. Draper traded sexual favors to a President who is known to like sexual favors for information that she might not have gotten otherwise."
Did that sound like he was accusing Ashley Draper, the woman we thought would be our future First Lady? Here is what the Speaker of the House went on to say.
"Let me be very, very, clear. I am accusing the woman that we know as Ashley Draper as being a spy. I don’t know for what government or institution, but it’s clear that she is in the White House, just moments away from the nuclear launch codes under false pretenses."
You think that’s bad?
Wait till what what the Speaker of the House had to say today.
"It’s come to my knowledge that Ms. Draper deals in the trading of information and embarrassing secrets. She entraps people into embarrassing situations. My staff was able to dig this out. It’s now clear to me that our President is being e
xtorted by Ms. Draper into selling state secrets. This redoubles my calls for impeachment and imprisonment of this President due to his unfitness to serve the highest office of the land."
Speaker of the House Bob Walker. Fierce opponent of Austin Bain. Calling for his impeachment. And it seemed just the other day the country was getting ready for a White House wedding. Now we might be getting ready for a White House jailing.
Not to be outdone, the White House has responded to the charges that Bob Walker has made. But it’s odd, because they’ve just had one message.
"The President will address the nation. Tonight," commented Press Secretary Cheryl Maddox.
I was supposed to go to CrossFit. But this is the perfect excuse to miss it. It’s going to be an interesting evening, that’s for sure.
Ashley
"What’s gotten into him?" I ask Tracy as we walk down a corridor at a brisk pace, heading toward the conference room.
"No idea," she shrugs, trying to appear calm and in control, but I know that she’s a wreck underneath her professional demeanor. Against his own advice, Austin has decided to hold a press conference, and he hasn’t even told Tracy a word of what he’s going to be saying. Maybe all this stress has gotten the best of him. And if that’s what’s happening … well, then, we’re all fucked. But it’s not like we can stop him; he’s the President of the United States, after all, and when the President wants something, he usually gets it.
Even if that’s a press conference that might dictate his own impeachment
I know what you’re thinking; what am I doing back at the White House, right? After the heated exchange of words between Austin and I, I was on the verge of leaving for good. And I did. Went back to my apartment for the night. But a deal is a deal, and I’ve never backed out of one. And I’m not going to start now. And, besides, despite how much of an asshole he was toward me… I still believe that he’s the right man to be leading this country.
