First Lady

by Blayne Cooper

  Pale brows jumped. “If I were anymore ‘here’ we’d be sharing the same skin.”

  “That does sound sort of nice, though, doesn’t it?” Dev turned her head and brushed her lips against the tip of Lauren’s nose.

  “Focus, Devil.”

  Dev laughed. “I hate to ruin your impression of my performance tonight. But if you insist.” She opened her eyes and looked into Lauren’s from very close range, not even blinking.

  There was a few seconds of silence before Lauren said, “Are you trying to say that you hypnotized them and me? If you are, then I’m truly impressed.”

  Dev rolled her eyes. “No, silly. Look at my eyes.”

  Lauren smiled. “If I do then I’m going to be forced to start kissing you.” Then her expression changed as she took a slightly harder look. The light could be better for doing an up-close examination but she was almost sure… “Are you wearing contact lenses?” While they were no longer used to correct vision, they were still common for those who wanted to change their natural eye color. “Your baby blues are not fake!” She gave Dev a horrified look. “I know it!”

  “Nope, they’re very real. But these contacts are special. They each contain a micro processor.”

  “What?” Lauren gasped, prying Dev’s eyes open with inquisitive fingers and staring at them from very close range. “You’re kidding. I don’t see a thing.”

  Dev chuckled softly, doing her best not to let the organs in question cross. “Well, that is the point. These babies are still experimental and will have many… err… classified uses.” When Lauren backed off, she blinked a few times as she tried to refocus on the pretty face so close to her own. “But one of their many uses I got to test out tonight. When I look someone in the eye, a retinal identification scan is performed and a mini-biography that includes relevant political and personal information appears next to their head in red letters. That only I can see, of course.”

  For a moment Lauren was speechless. Then, “Oh my God. Those were in a James Bond movie from a couple of years ago. I didn’t know they were real!”

  “They weren’t.” Dev grinned. “Then.”

  “I want a pair!”

  “Too bad they cost about 3 million bucks a piece, eh?” With a pitiful groan, Devlyn climbed out of bed and headed towards the bathroom to remove the contacts, glad that Lauren’s question had reminded her that she was wearing them.

  “Christmas is coming in a mere four months!” Lauren called after Dev as she wiggled her way under the covers.

  Dev poked her head out of the bathroom and stuck her tongue out at her mate. “Sorry, honey, but unless Santa joins the CIA, these babies will not be in your stocking.”

  * * *

  Thursday, September 29, 2022

  LAUREN SAT BACK in the seat and pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing the spots that became slightly irritated by her glasses if she wore them for too long. She considered what Devlyn had been telling her for months, that the minor surgery that would correct her vision would be worth it in the long run. But as always, Lauren couldn’t bear the thought. Glasses were fine. The problem was, she’d been wearing hers non-stop since 6 that morning, when she generally used them only to read or write.

  She’d just finished an excellent meeting with a long time associate of Devlyn’s. The man used to be the head of Ohio’s Department of Agriculture. Today, however, he was happily employed as a lobbyist for corn and corn products. The easygoing man had shared story after story about a very young and earnest former Governor of Ohio, whom Lauren happened to love very much. The material would be wonderful for Devlyn’s biography, and so far, Lauren counted this day as a raging success.

  From the back seat of a silver-colored sedan, Lauren watched the scenery slowly pass. The driver and front passenger were both Secret Service Agents. Sitting alongside Lauren was her new administrative assistant, Carol Becker, a fresh-faced Stanford graduate whose salary was paid 50 percent by the White House and 50 percent by Starlight Publishing.

  “Lauren?”

  Lauren turned and smiled at Carol. It had taken nearly two weeks for the woman to start using her first name as Lauren had requested many, many times. “Can we switch to some White House business, ma’am.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes at the word “ma’am,” vowing to work on that later. “Sure, Ms. Becker,” she said dramatically, laughing a little when Carol’s eyebrows jumped perceptibly. Heh. “But only if we must.”

  Carol looked at her watch and nodded. “We must.” She indicated a large file folder on the floor. “Mrs. McMillian indicated that you would be releasing your guidelines on academic achievement next week. But she wanted to make sure you saw these papers first.”

  Lauren’s eyes turned to slits. “She did, huh?” Dammit, Beth. You know already know how I feel about this.

  Carol looked a little unsure of herself. “Ummm… yes.”

  “I see.” Lauren took off her glasses and tossed them on the soft leather seat next to her. “You can tell Beth that I don’t need to see those papers, because, as I indicated before, I won’t be releasing anything to the public. Especially when I don’t know anything about the subject matter.”

  “If you read what was in the folder, you would know something about it,” Carol offered reasonably, biting her lip at her own playful impertinence.

  Lauren snorted. “No wonder Beth likes you so much.” She let out a soft sigh, then Carol watched in surprise as the blonde’s expression turned serious in a flash of an eye. “Rest assured, Carol, I won’t be releasing any recommendations. I speak only for myself, or,” she corrected herself, “occasionally for Devlyn, but not the Emancipation Party. A few minutes of reading and sharing a bed with the President doesn’t give me the sort of background necessary to make serious recommendations to strangers. I don’t care what prior First Ladies have done.” Lauren pointed to the folders near Carol’s feet with an irritated finger. “Those contain the Emancipation Party’s recommendations. Not mine.” She cocked her head to the side, her eyes sparking just a little. “Are we clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Carol swallowed. “We’re clear.”

  Lauren consciously softened her gaze. “Don’t worry.” Her voice took on added warmth. “I’ll talk to Beth so that you won’t be caught in the middle of things, okay?”

  Carol visibly relaxed, her shoulders slumping with pure relief. “Thanks.” She smiled and pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket when it rang. “Excuse me, ma’am.”

  Lauren nodded and closed her eyes to block out the late afternoon glare of the sun. She leaned her head against the air-conditioning-cooled window and after only a moment, felt that familiar, slightly dislocated sensation of being almost asleep.

  Without warning, there was a deafening explosion. Before she could even open her eyes, a searing hot pain tore through Lauren’s head. Her body was violently thrown sideways, held to the seat only by the car’s restraint system. A second later she was jolted forward with such force it knocked the wind from her lungs. She vaguely registered the sound of squealing tires and a piercing scream before her world went mercifully black.

  * * *

  Dev laughed along with the rest of the room as the Secretary of the Interior related a story about his vacation. It was a welcome moment that eased the tension in the day’s cabinet meeting. Even among this handpicked group, the meetings were usually anxiety-filled for reasons that Dev could never quite grasp.

  She glanced at David’s watch and realized they were just about to adjourn, when an aide rushed into the room with a slightly desperate look on his face. He looked torn between going to David or Dev. David ended the aide’s mental debate by motioning the husky man in his direction. He leaned over and whispered something in David’s ear.

  Dev watched as the blood drained from her friend’s face and felt the bottom of her stomach drop out in response.

  David whispered something back to the aide, but Devlyn could only barely make out Geoff’s name.

&n
bsp; Very slowly, David cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies and gentlemen. There’s something that requires the President’s immediate attention. Thank you for your cooperation, this meeting is adjourned.” He circled the table as cabinet members filed out of the room and gently took Dev by the arm, whispering to her, “Come with me and stay calm.”

  Dev’s chest tightened to a painful degree. “David?”

  “Not here, Dev.” He led her out of the room, turning in the opposite direction from which the still-milling cabinet members were walking. The crowd parted, and a distraught looking Jane met David in the hall and murmured something about television to him. She couldn’t look at Devlyn, lest she burst into tears.

  “What is going on?” Dev practically shouted, half-angry, half-terrified, feeling her heart begin to race when David told Jane to clear the rest of the day.

  David pulled Dev into an empty conference room. He ignored Devlyn’s question long enough to give the voice commands for the television and winced as a horrible picture, shot from a local traffic helicopter, flared to life in the corner of the room. He muted the sound but left on the closed-captioning as he quickly explained to Devlyn what she was seeing.

  His voice shook slightly as he spoke. “That’s Lauren’s sedan, Dev. Our satellite has got the location, too, and agents are on the way.”

  What had happened was fairly clear from viewing the accident scene. Another sedan, a white Toyota, had entered an intersection and had hit the side of the car Lauren was traveling in, crushing the driver and rear passenger's side doors. The police escort that was following Lauren had run into them both.

  Dev didn’t say a word. Not even when the camera zoomed in and showed a lurid smear of crimson staining the driver's side rear window. It was clear the press didn’t know who was in the car by the casual, almost understated way they were reporting the accident. The news crew had literally stumbled across the accident only seconds after it happened while on their way to filming rush hour traffic. The three cars, one of them a police car, were now sitting idle on a relatively quiet back street and there was no ambulance on the scene yet. The man from the Toyota exited his car quickly and stumbled to the curb, where he sat down with his head in his hands.

  David could tell by the whiteness of her skin and the panic in her eyes that she had heard what he’d told her, even though she remained completely silent, her eyes riveted to the television.

  “David…” she finally managed to choke out.

  He was there to catch her when her legs buckled, and he guided her to a chair.

  She gulped down a few huge lungfuls of air and gripped the armrests of her chair with devastating force, her knuckles turning as white as her face. She forced words out between ragged breaths. “What do… what do we know?”

  “Not much. The call came in maybe 60 seconds ago. The patrol car following called it in directly to the White House. The officer didn't say much — less than you can see from the TV, in fact.”

  David and Devlyn watched as two policemen and several Secret Service agents swarmed over the two cars, guns drawn. One agent instantly approached the Toyota driver and appeared to order the shaking man to lie down, face first, which the driver did. The other agents ran over to Lauren’s car.

  A low moan escaped Devlyn’s chest. “I need to get there.”

  “Dev, an ambulance is on the way. ETA two more minutes, tops. She’d be gone by the time we got there.”

  Devlyn closed her eyes, her entire body shaking. “Where is she?” she asked in a remarkably calm voice, her mind’s eye still focusing on the television image. This can’t be happening again, her mind screamed. It can’t!

  “On the corner of 6th and A Street North East. That’s about three miles from here.”

  Dev shot to her feet and bolted for the door.

  * * *

  Lauren opened her eyes to the sound of sirens in the distance. Dazed, she blinked a few times, realizing that she was lying sideways, nearly on top of Carol, who was moaning.

  “What—?” She shook her head, wondering what was wrong with her vision and what was stinging her eyes. She instantly regretted the motion and cried out softly, her head throbbing.

  “Lauren?” Carol’s shaky voice asked.

  “I think so,” Lauren whispered, her hands moving to unhook the car’s safety restraint system. Her fingers fumbled for a few seconds until she was able to release herself.

  “Is everyone all right back there?” one of the agents asked, his attention quickly turning to his fellow agent, who was slumped forward in the driver’s seat, apparently unconscious.

  “Yes,” Carol whimpered.

  “Ms. Strayer? Talk to me, ma’am.”

  “Oh, God,” Carol gasped. “She’s bleeding.”

  Lauren wiped at her eyes, the metallic scent of warm blood filling her nostrils. Suddenly the sedan began to close in on her and she began to panic. Her entire body ached and things kept going in and out of focus. She felt as though she was swimming through thick pea soup.

  “Stay in the car, ma’am,” the agent ordered, as he drew his gun with one hand and, with the other, tried to rouse the driver. Alert eyes scanned the interior and exterior of the car.

  “I can’t,” Lauren hissed, her heart beating so fast she was sure it would burst in her chest. She tasted blood and her stomach roiled as she reached for the far door. “I—”

  “Stay—!”

  But Carol had had enough as well; she pushed past Lauren’s hand and opened the door. She scrambled out and fell onto the asphalt with Lauren right behind her.

  The street felt hot against Lauren’s palms, but she didn’t feel the gravel digging into her skin. Bracing herself with her hands against her knees, she stood and started to realize what had happened. When she was upright and swaying precariously, she reached for her face and eyes again, this time looking at her fingers, which came away stained liberally with the sticky blood that was flowing from a gash on her forehead.

  She saw stars and her knees gave way just as several Secret Service agents came running and screamed at her to get down.

  * * *

  “Devlyn!” David ran after her, having trouble keeping up with her even though she was wearing a skirt and low heels. “Wait, Dev!” he tried again.

  She ran up to Jane’s desk and jerked the phone from her secretary’s hand. “Give me your car keys!”

  Compassion shone in Jane’s eyes. “Dev, honey—”

  Dev’s face contorted in rage. Never had she been so furious that she had no personal means of transportation. “God dammit, I said give them to me!”

  With wide eyes, Liza cleared the area around Jane’s desk, ushering away anyone who could hear or see Devlyn in this all-out panic.

  Panting, David put himself between Dev and Jane. “You can’t go to her.”

  “Bullshit. I can’t!” Dev barely kept herself from striking him.

  “He’s right, Dev.”

  The President turned to see Vice President Vincent shouldering his way past a very harried Liza. “We don’t know if this was a true accident or an attempt to get you out of the White House with less than normal security.”

  Dev’s hands shaped quivering fists. “I don’t care.”

  Geoff’s tone softened. “I know you don’t.” He put a comforting hand on her shaking shoulder. “But I have to.”

  “Geoff,” she whispered, tears blinding her. “I have to get to her. I—”

  David’s phone rang and everyone held their breath as he answered it. With a curt reply, he snapped the phone shut. “Lauren and the agent who was driving are on their way to George Washington University Hospital. There’s no in-depth medical assessment yet, but we do know that she’s unconscious, her vitals are stable, and they’re treating her for a head wound.”

  Dev nodded weakly and commanded her legs to move. All she could think of was going to the hospital after Samantha’s crash; the look of hopelessness on the doctors’ faces; th
eir words of apology and pity that barely registered as the unthinkable actually happened. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to fall apart at the seams.

  Not yet.

  “Let’s go,” she ordered, making it crystal clear that no one on earth could stop her.

  * * *

  Word had leaked out about the facility’s famous patient. Devlyn, David, and bevy of Secret Service agents bypassed the writhing hoard of reporters camped around the hospital and filling its hallways to the brim by using a staff-only entrance used by physicians in the private, underground parking lot.

  The hallway was poorly lit with lurid fluorescent lights and the walls were slightly dingy, despite this being a state-of-the-art facility. They were forced to ascend the narrow staircase two at a time, and Devlyn could hear the Senior-Agent-In-Charge cursing under his breath in front of her. No one had told them about this, and it clearly wasn’t to her security’s liking.

  She drew in a deep breath as she bounded up the steps, literally pushing on the backs of the men in front of her so that they would move faster. Dev winced when she caught a whiff of the bleach and the standard medicinal odor found in all hospitals. The air was muggy, giving the impression that a large swimming pool was nearby. She stopped and grasped the metal railing tightly, feeling light headed. She tightened her grip. “Shit.”

  “Dev?” David said worriedly, stopping one of the many phone conversations he’d been having since they left the White House.

  She just shook her head. “I’m fine.” She started up the stairs again. “You know where we’re going?”

  David nodded. “A right turn at the top of the stairs. Jesus, if I’d known we were going to go up seven flights…”

  But Devlyn wasn’t listening anymore. She just gritted her teeth and continued to climb, telling herself not to think of anything at all. One step. Two steps. Another. Turn the corner. Breathe.

  Finally, a door in front of Devlyn opened, and she moved forward into better light and a fresher smell. Two doctors in crisp white lab coats were there to meet her.