“Thank you. Well, it was very nice meeting you, Governor Coburn.”
I began to walk around him and out of the campaign office.
“Expect a call back tomorrow.”
I turned back to the governor and grinned. “I look forward to it.”
My day definitely looked brighter than it did when I’d woken up this morning.
Chapter Two
Peter
Peter waited until Sigourney left before he turned toward Eric. “You ever manhandle a woman like that again and I will fire you myself.”
“Governor, I thought she was a groupie approaching you for your autograph and a chance to shove her phone number in your pocket—”
“In my campaign office?” he cut off his lead bodyguard. “How would she have gotten past Kylie? For fuck’s sake, think!”
“What’s with all the melodrama?” Kylie slunk out of her office and faced him with a casual smile plastered on her face.
Despite being such a mega-bitch, no one could deny her beauty. She truly was gorgeous with her natural auburn hair, pale freckled skin and green eyes that could darken as quickly as they could be filled with light and merriment. Kylie was also a dangerous creature, a political aficionado and the real meaning of a human shark. There was a reason why she was his campaign manager. She had the ability to smell blood in the water and beat a dead horse until it was beyond expiration.
The woman didn’t have a kind bone in her body and everything—from the way she conducted herself during sex to her career, itself—was done with precision, aforethought and a vast bank of knowledge.
“Nothing,” Peter replied before he smiled at her. “I’m really going to like the new campaign aide. She’s intelligent, witty and not afraid of expressing herself.”
Kylie rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Peter. Don’t you want me to interview some more people? I rather liked that Carl fellow. He was intelligent, witty and not afraid of expressing himself either. Not to mention he was a bit brighter than the dim bulb you’re placing all your hopes in. She’s not right for this campaign.”
He strode over to his campaign manager and slid an arm around her waist. “I think you’re being too hard on the young lady. Besides, she’s not that dim, she corrected me for calling Nyongo-Rice a black woman.”
“Big deal. The world sees her as a black woman, despite her white father, and the only reason why someone like Stewart would correct you is because she is a white version of ‘post-race America.’ I know where you’re going with this, and I must ask, is this your twenty-first century version of affirmative action? She has the right credentials because her mother is a Norwegian immigrant and her father is one of the best neurosurgeons at Johns Hopkins? If it is, you’re not being very funny,” Kylie explained in a sarcasm-laden voice.
“No, she isn’t because I try not to reduce people down to mere government boxes and statistics. I would like to think I am the best presidential candidate for the job, not because I’m a white male, but because I understand this country’s issues and I govern a state that has already seen what twenty-first century America will look like. I was also mayor of Baltimore, a minority-majority city. I know better than most governors what America will look like and I have the vision to make us still shine as bright as we do now—”
“Argh! Saved the canned speeches for the talk shows on MSNBC and CNN, will you? Or better yet, write them down and use them on the campaign trail. I’ve got no time for your great ‘love’ for this country, or any other patriotic bullshit you want to spout, all right?”
Peter sat down and glared at Kylie with bemusement. “I’m rather interested in why you don’t think she’s good enough for the job? If you say anything what so ever about her intelligence then I’ll be very disappointed in you.”
“I never said she wasn’t good enough for the job—I said she wasn’t the right person and there is a big difference.”
“Fine. Why isn’t she the right person?”
“You’re attracted to her, Peter. You’re married and you’re running for President. Do you really want a repeat of George Riley’s antics and another ‘Ovalgate’ situation?” Kylie sat next to him. “What happened between Riley and Sarah Brinkman cost the man two years to legislate. He became a lame duck President for Christ’s sake. Do you really want the same thing to happen to you?”
“So he fucked his aide—I would think most Americans truly didn’t care.”
“Do I have to remind you we’re living in a post nine eleven world and this country has become more conservative, not less, over the past few years. The south will care, Catholics will care and more importantly, anyone who will question whether they should vote for you will care. Peter, I must advise you to rethink the choice of Sigourney Stewart.”
Peter glanced in Kylie’s direction and realized “the people” weren’t the only ones who would care. She would care too despite her promising she wouldn’t. He’d had her around since his first campaign in Baltimore. Unlike most American cities, Baltimore was majority black and a white man becoming mayor of that city was not a feat that happened everyday. He’d greased palms, attended black churches, made friends with the same black woman who replaced him as mayor when he won the Governor’s race and turned Maryland back into a true-blue state.
It was a feat made harder since he was the son of Republicans. In fact, he and his two younger brothers were both more progressively inclined. Brandon was a Democrat and currently held his own as a state Senator in Maryland while Laine, the youngest, was an independent. His political career—if he decided to pursue one—was on hold for the time being. After a controversial involvement with powerful Washington figures, their parents had sent him to Lake Tahoe, Nevada where he wouldn’t be able to cause them any more shame or embarrassment for the time being.
The Coburn men had a particular weakness: gorgeous women. He was no different than his brothers or his father. The fact they’d mostly all gone into politics only meant they had to play the game more discreetly but they still enjoyed playing it.
“Listen,” Peter began in a gentle voice, “I love my wife and my children. I believe Sigourney is a very beautiful woman but I will not mess up my run for the White House with her, okay? I still need to get past Elaine if I ever want to dream of calling that grand mansion on Pennsylvania Avenue my home.”
His campaign manager threw up her hands and shrugged. “All right.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll hire the Stewart girl. I’ll call her tomorrow to welcome her on board. Are you happy now?”
Peter smiled. “Ecstatic. Isn’t she the first official person I’ve hired? You had Russell before you came aboard.”
“Yes, she is. The same way you had your political strategist, James, aboard before I joined the team. We work really hard for you, Peter. We believe in you—don’t you ever forget it.”
“I won’t,” he replied before he stood and prepared to leave. “Listen, we’ve got that luncheon tomorrow at the White House so try to pencil in some face time with the President. I would really like to talk to her.”
“Will do.”
“Take care of yourself, Kylie. And can you text me what Elaine is going to be focusing on this week. I hear she’s got a new autobiography and they’ve pushed up the date of release. Grab me a copy. I want to see what kind of lies she’s told in her ‘official’ bible.”
Kylie smirked. “You get past your attraction to Sigourney and leave the autobiography of Elaine to me.”
Chapter Three
Sigourney
“OMG! You actually met the Governor of our home state? How cool is that?”
I smiled brightly at my roommate and best friend, Andrea. “It was pretty cool.”
We still lived near our school in a gorgeous apartment that cost us an arm and leg each month. The lease was only until August but from the looks of it, it seemed like we might be renewing for at least another year.
A gorgeous two bedroom, it had a
large, open floor plan with plenty of light and furniture that looked like an Ethan Allen catalog. The dishware and accessories were courtesy of a no-limit shopping spree at Crate & Barrel. All bathroom towels and bed sheets were from Bed, Bath & Beyond. Unfortunately, to say Andrea was obsessed with labels would be a serious understatement of the year.
My two thousand dollar ensemble came from her closet because she was the only one who could afford endless trips to Chanel and Dolce & Gabbana for clothes. Most of her handbags were either Louis Vuitton or Hermès, and the vast majority of her designer shoes were Christian Louboutin and Yves Saint Laurent. I came from a well off family but everything designer I owned was either a birthday gift or something I earned enough money from through a job. I certainly didn’t have the endless funds my best friend had nor would I want them either.
“I wonder if they’ll give me a cool job like that at The Capital Post? For the time being, all I do is follow the gossip columnist around. It’s not exactly something I thought I would be doing, seein’ that I’ve got a master’s degree in Journalism from Georgetown. What the fuck? Do they think I received it by payment in blowjobs? Jeez, men can be such sexist pricks sometimes.”
“I think they’re no longer called gossip columnists but entertainment reporters,” I replied as I dipped my spoon into my favorite comfort food, Ben and Jerry’s chocolate-chip cookie dough.
“What the fuck ever,” Andrea piled her sandy blonde hair into a ponytail. “This is so frustrating! That’s the last straw—I’m dyeing hair. It’s the only way I’ll ever get taken seriously.”
I looked over at my defeated friend who’d abandoned her Rocky Road ice cream in favor of an electronic cigarette. “Andrea, are you sure it comes down to that?”
“What difference does it make? It’s just hair, Sigourney. Besides, I think it would be really cool to have chestnut hair and throw in some dark auburn streaks for good measure. I’ve always wanted to play with my hair color. Before my mother died, I couldn’t. ‘Every girl wants blonde hair!’ she’d shriek at me. Now that’s she’s gone, I can do whatever the hell I want. I’m sick of being blonde and I’m going to do something about it.”
“Okay.” I abandoned my ice cream as well. “How the hell did this conversation go from me meeting the Governor to you dyeing your hair?”
Andrea shrugged her shoulders apathetically. “Listen, I’m jealous you are going to get this job and be paid for what you do. Me? I’m just some sad ass Trust fund kid with ‘issues.’ It’s so hard being rich and trying to make your own money, don’t you think? I’m lucky I got the poverty-paying journalist internship at the number one paper here in the country’s capital city but don’t you just feel like we’re spinning our wheels sometimes? You could make so much money being an aide to a bonafide Hollywood celebrity—”
“With degrees from Georgetown and Harvard? I don’t much like the whole situation of being better educated than my employer,” I interrupted in a dubious voice.
“—and I could make bank working for E! Channel or on Entertainment Now. What the hell are we doing stuck in ugly town?”
I checked my phone as I replied, “I don’t know what you’re doing here but I consider it more important to care about what happens to our country than work for some head-up-their-ass pop star or a mega-million making actor.”
Andrea stood and abandoned her e-cigarette device on the kitchen island. “Please don’t tell me you think anything we do here makes a bit of difference. Politicians don’t care about anything but a mega payday. They make hundreds of millions of dollars, much more than most actors. Between raising money for campaigns and what not, it costs over a billion dollars just to run for President. Not to mention hundreds of millions to run for Senator and tens of millions for a two-year Representative seat.
“I’m not saying you don’t have politicians who care but most of them are self-serving pieces of shit who only care about their own interests and getting rich off the people’s money when they should be trying to help them. Government has turned into nothing but a fraud and another way for criminals to make money.”
I chuckled out loud. “Wow…your speech was very moving. However, I’m not nearly as cynical as you and I believe there are still good people out there. Does that make me naïve? Perhaps, but I would rather have others at least try to fix this broken country as opposed to being so hopeless and jaded.”
“I’m an aspiring journalist, Sigourney, how would you expect me to be?” Andrea chided as she opened a bottle of Pinot Gris. “A glass of wine, sweetie?”
“You have to ask?”
She grabbed two of our extra-large wine glasses and poured the whole bottle between us before she slid my glass nearer to me by the stem. “Okay, so I’m cynical but what difference does it make? You seem to be quite inamorate of your new boss—what about this chick who interviewed you? What did you think of her?”
I seriously didn’t know what to tell Andrea about Kylie. What was there to say? She was cold and extremely concerned about her meal ticket but was there more about her I’d purposefully avoided? I wasn’t quite sure and part of me felt like I was being paranoid.
“Ms. Miller was very…interesting.”
Andrea raised one of her perfectly shaped pale eyebrows over bright sky blue eyes. “Miss Miller? Wow, Sig. Does she make that much of an impression?”
I glanced back at her with a sarcastic smile on my face. “Her name’s Kylie. She fucking hates me because I’m twenty-six and graduated from Harvard and Georgetown. She’s got serious control-freak issues and probably is in love with the Governor. What else is there to say?”
“Okay.” She sipped from her wine as her cell phone rang. “It’s Michelle. I’m sure she wants to go out tonight. How do you feel about that?”
“I can’t think of anything better to do with my evening, babe. That would be a ‘yes.’”
“Awesome!” Andrea answered the phone shortly afterward and walked toward her bedroom.
It was constantly a thought on my mind. Would I get the job or wouldn’t I? Perhaps if the Governor whispered a few sweet nothings in Kylie’s ear, I had a fifty-fifty chance. I still didn’t hold out too much hope.
My cell phone woke me up before the pounding in my head did. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls and my head played a tune of pain to its own melody.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Stewart? It’s Kylie Miller. Can you talk?”
I sat up in bed and swung my legs over the side. “Yes, I can. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
My heart began to thunder in my chest and I could only pray she had good news.
“No problem. I’m an early riser…unlike some people…the Governor and I wanted you to know we were very impressed by you yesterday. The campaign aide position needs to be filled quickly. We both recognize talent when we see it and we would love to welcome you to the team.”
I wanted to speak but my breath caught in my throat and no words would leave my mouth.
“Ms. Stewart, are you still there?”
“I…I—”
Collision Course, Jay-Z and Linkin Park’s collaboration, suddenly began to blast from the living room. Andrea was up. Heavy guitar riffs mixed with the deep bass of hip-hop filled the apartment and bled into my room. If I could hear it, I knew Kylie could hear it too.
Dear God, please rescue me by opening a hole in the earth before me and swallow me whole.
“Well, looks like you have good tastes in celebration music. Collision Course is a classic.”
Shit! I’d forgotten the two groups were part of Gen X. Of course Kylie would know them. They grew up with Nirvana, Stone Temple Pilots, Jay-Z and Tupac.
“Um, yeah, it is. Thanks for giving me a chance and thank you the opportunity. I’m very excited about working for the Governor.”
“Well, be sure to let him know when you see him again. Peter’s the reason you were hired in the first place. Have a good day, Sigourney, and see you bright a
nd early on Monday.”
“Have a great day, Ms. Miller—”
“You can call me Kylie. You make me feel like I’m my mother when you keep addressing me as Ms. Miller. I’m your boss but I’m not that much older than you.”
Who the hell was this chick kidding? She was someone I should aspire to be, and at least nine years older than me. She wasn’t that far off from forty and I was a year into the halfway point to thirty. How self-deluded was she?
“Okay. Thanks, Kylie. Enjoy your weekend.”
“You too.” I ended the phone call and stood hurriedly despite my headache from hell.
Andrea engrossed herself in cleaning up as “Points of Authority/99 Problems” blasted from the Bose system.
“I got the job!” I exclaimed as soon as we were within arms’ length.
My best friend turned around. “No shit! Oh. My. God. Congrats, babe.” She embraced me with enthusiasm. “We have to celebrate!”
I smiled and laughed at the same time. “I can’t believe it!”
“I can. You’re going to go far, baby girl. I’m so proud of you.” I barely heard her over Chester Bennington’s screaming but we hugged again.
This was a new chapter in my young life and I didn’t know whether I should have been happy or terrified. I happened to be both at the thought of seeing Peter again.
Chapter Four
Peter
“How’s Washington been treating you?”
Peter stole a glance from his wife, Elizabeth, and realized she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. They’d been married for the past thirteen years and had two children. Their twins, Anna and Andrew, were ten years old.
She’d had such a difficult pregnancy and the twins were such a handful, they both agreed it best she undergo a tubal ligation. That’d occurred nine years ago. She was a tireless advocate of women’s rights and constantly held fundraisers on the behalf of women’s health. Though she’d come from a family similar to Peter’s own, she was pro-choice and also believed in gay civil rights and almost every other progressive cause there was to be fought.
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