For Immediate Release

by Clancy Nacht

  Lance leaned against him, gripping Gideon’s shoulder. They pressed their foreheads together as they pulled each other off, silent between gasps and grunts. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lance basked in the shockwaves flooding his body. It was just the two of them and so much to feel. He nuzzled Gideon until they were kissing again.

  Gideon wrapped his free hand around Lance’s waist to pull him closer and inched his fingers down the back of Lance’s open pants. When he squeezed, Lance whined. Then Gideon circled Lance’s opening, and the pressure combined with the decadent heat on Lance’s cock until Lance whimpered and came into Gideon’s hand. After a few more strokes, Gideon followed suit, silently straining closer.

  Though Lance did his best to keep cum off their couture, they were slightly messy. Gideon cleaned a spot on Lance’s jacket by sucking the fabric, making Lance’s toes curl.

  “I’m staying.” Gideon touched Lance’s cheek. “I won’t leave until both of us can.”

  Still recovering, Lance shook his head and said breathily, “You can’t do that. You could get hurt. Wait for me if you want, but don’t… This… It’s bad, Gideon. He’ll use us against one another.”

  “Schrader can try.” Gideon frowned and tucked himself away. Lance followed suit. "You’d do the same as me.”

  Would he? Lance wasn’t so sure. He valued his freedom.

  Looking at Gideon, though, he couldn't deny the draw. Lance took Gideon’s hand and frowned, wanting to thank him but finding it impossible to vocalize. He kissed Gideon again instead.

  Gideon pointed two fingers at his own eyes then at Lance. Then he left, returning to wherever he spied from, Lance guessed.

  Lance remained behind to collect himself.

  He wasn’t sure how long he was in there before Elliot burst into the room. It probably smelled like cum, but Elliot just bellowed, “What the fuck is going on with Jeff?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lance folded his arms, still shaky from the orgasm, and a little sleepy. Not top form for telling lies.

  “He was in your room again!” Elliot was pacing, and Lance knew this was going to end in sex. Pointless, mechanical sex. That couldn’t be his life now, could it?

  “Look, I wasn’t going to say anything, but…” Here it came. “Jeff fell asleep in my room when we were looking over the candidates. I think the campaign is too much for him. Even when I told him to look at the files later, he hadn’t. I don’t think I’m working anyone to death here, but look, if he’s bugging you, and he’s not up to snuff for me, why don’t we just send him back home?”

  Elliot wrapped his arms around Lance and pulled him tight. “Really? Nothing going on with him? You don’t mind sending him away?”

  Lance shrugged. “I didn’t need him in the first place. He was just supposed to help me look like I was taken, per Corey. But that’s over. No one’s looking at you and me. Jeff is superfluous.”

  Later, Jeff would be pissed that he was fired, but Lance would be saving him a lot of grief down the road. There were plenty of other places to have his gay awakening. He’d bounce back.

  Elliot kissed Lance and then bent him over the table. “I’ll tell him in the morning. He won’t be with us in Nevada.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh Lance, I don’t know.” Talia sounded weary. Lance wasn’t sure how long she’d been up. It was as likely that he’d woken her as that she’d been up all night. Alone in his hotel room in Nevada, he grew increasingly paranoid.

  Sure, Gideon liked fucking him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use Lance against Schrader. Not to mention that risky maneuver in South Carolina would’ve gotten them in trouble with Elliot and thus in trouble with Schrader.

  “We’re in Vegas.” Lance rolled over on his giant bed and admired the lush surroundings and extra space. The art was abstract, dull, but the sheets were soft, and the room service menu available at nearly all hours of the day.

  “On or off strip?”

  “Three words: Bell. Ag. Io.” Lance smirked at himself in the mirror that was behind the mini bar.

  “Mm, what do I have to do there in your Bellagio?”

  Good, Talia sounded interested. “Not a lot. As you know, this is pretty much sewn up. Even from an outsider perspective.” Lance rolled over. He was on one of his burners, and he was sure that Talia had everything clear on her phone, but in a casino, technologies neither of them could predict might be at work. “It’s the next week and build up to Super Tuesday that’s going to be a chaotic mess, but you’d be my assistant. Sort of. Actually, they’re doing oppo research on the VP candidates, and I thought you might see what they wouldn’t.”

  “Ah, the plot thickens.” He could picture her grinning and twisting a braid around her finger. “What about the rest? I’m no good in a gunfight.”

  “No guns.”

  A pause. “You don’t have a gun? Or is that something you’re just saying?”

  “If it gets to that point, my having a gun isn’t going to help any of us.” That was depressingly true. In spite of having been well trained with a gun in his youth, Lance knew if Schrader got it into his head to shoot his only child, Lance wouldn’t make it. “You can get one if it’ll make you more comfortable, but the hotel will have questions.”

  “Pfft. A black woman with a gun? I’ll be lucky not to get shot by some racist pig.”

  They sat on that statement for a while. The naked truth wasn’t something they ever talked about, but that didn’t make it any less true. “I need someone on my side here, Tal.”

  He hadn’t told her about Gideon. Even if he did, Gideon’s presence might negatively affect Talia’s decision.

  “I guess. I’ve got some ongoing projects, but it doesn’t matter much where I do them.” Her voice was resigned. “What about the rest? You told us not to be on high alert here. Would that change if I come?”

  The truth was, Lance didn’t know. If he seemed to be failing, Schrader would likely torture one of them. Talia being local might not go well for her. “Six one way, half-dozen the other. Only way to really be safe is to vanish.”

  “I’m not vanishing.”

  “Then you should come.” Lance rolled out of bed and looked out the window, enjoying the sights of the strip. “I’ll probably be working on plots and plans; I got sucked into speech writing. You could gamble.”

  “I don’t gamble. Anyway, I can’t gamble because of previous gambling activities that went extremely well for me, at least for a while.”

  Lance smirked. Hackers were hard on casinos. He hoped she took them for a lot before they realized. “You allowed here?”

  “Bellagio? Um… I think so. I’ll just tell them I’m with you if I get in trouble.”

  “Thanks.” Lance sat on one of the cushy chairs and reveled in the moment. Talia would come; she would have his back.

  “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Need me to make your plane and hotel reservations?” Lance unlocked his computer.

  “Nah. I’m going under another name.”

  “Is this going to get you in trouble?” Lance’s hands were poised over the computer.

  “I’ve been to Vegas a lot of times. I’ve got a system. Don’t worry about me. You just make sure you keep your man happy.”

  Lance sighed in relief. He gave her his room number and hung up. Then he checked the promo card in his room for Cirque du Soleil. It sounded interesting, but with his luck he’d be called away in the middle. He could gamble, but that was all he needed to see in the news: “Future Press Secretary gambling away his earnings.” Or whatever they’d say.

  Grindr, but he was pretty sexed out.

  Calling Gideon would be nice, though that would likely turn into sex. Besides, he really did have a speech to write about how wonderful the people of Nevada were, including local highlights, praising the organizers of the primary, jobs, jobs, bombs, bombs, guns, guns, shake and stir with a side of dead babies.

  Lance got down the rhyt
hm and ideas with surprising ease. He wished Elliot’s policies and the party platform were more logical, but it wasn’t as if the tech industry was much better in that regard.

  He started to write.

  The fifteen hundred words were easy enough. Actually, it was twenty-five hundred, and he needed to do some slicing and dicing, but first, Lance needed a break. He stood and stretched, then consulted the dine-in menu. He went with the shrimp scampi and a basil gimlet, now wary of wine, though that was irrational. While he waited, Lance turned on the television. It took a second for him to realize he was looking at the hotel’s menu on the long, flat screen. Grimacing, Lance changed the channel to CNN.

  His heart sank. There was a movie theater shooting in San Antonio.

  Pushing away the hurt and misery yet another mass murder caused, Lance phoned Talia. “Stay put. We’re coming to you.”

  After hanging up, Lance gave a last, wistful look at his beautiful suite and whispered, “Goodbye, room.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  As depressing for humanity as the shooting was, being freshly fucked, showered, and on a jet did a lot to improve Lance’s mood. Maybe this was why wealthy people didn’t care about tragedies. Bad policies in your district result in mass shooting? Show up like you care, then jet off somewhere safe to watch movies in peace.

  Lance felt so relaxed, at odds with the position he was in. He rode near the front of the jet with Elliot, and Susan and the kids sat closer to the rear.

  That wasn’t the surprising part of Lance’s presence, though.

  “You’re sure Corey doesn’t mind?” Lance asked for probably the eighth time, but he wasn’t tired of hearing the answer yet.

  “Fuck Corey.” Elliot gave a manic grin like they were both schoolboys out for a joyride. “I would never have made it this far without you, you know. You’re the special sauce in this campaign. I’m coming out with different positions from the rest of the pack, and we’re killing it, Lance. Killing it.”

  Thinking about Schrader fixing the election was depressing, however it did allow him a certain freedom to say what he wanted. “I don’t know about that, but I’m glad not to be on the bus.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t, too.”

  Reality harshed Lance’s mellow. Not that he was really Zen, exactly. If anything, he was giddy from the overabundance of stress.

  Lance had his laptop on the tray in front of him. Elliot slipped his hand underneath to fondle Lance’s cock.

  “If we’re too bad, Susan won’t let us ride together anymore.”

  Lance peered around the cabin, but no one was looking. “I’m not sure I can get hard again anyway. We’ve got this speech to write.”

  Elliot gave a long-suffering sigh and sat back in his chair, a smile still curling his lips. “We do. It doesn’t have to be done right away. I have to do some hand shaking and get situation reports and all that before a press conference can happen. You don’t want to just land and start taking over in an emergency.”

  “Your opponents might.” It was exactly kind of crass behavior the clown car of Republican candidates partook in these days. Though Lance had never followed politics in particular, he had vague memories of the first, statesmanlike George Bush, Reagan’s solid, actory attractiveness. Even Maverick John McCain had the dignity of being a war veteran, and Mitt Romney had the smell of money.

  Now the Republican field was a race to see who could give the most desperate lapdance to the hateful while getting money shoved in their g-string by corporations. In that respect, Lance had no moral objections to stealing an election. Since Citizens United, elections were for sale. Hackers stealing one? Eh, he wouldn’t lose sleep over that.

  Schrader in power… That was a tiger of a different stripe.

  Worse than a corporation or sinister church getting hold of that much power? Lance wasn’t sure.

  The problem was that Lance didn’t have a clue what Schrader would do with that power. Working for the public good was more than a little out of his wheelhouse, so Lance couldn’t imagine it would be benevolent, but in American politics, one had to measure bad versus less bad. Potentially, Schrader could be less bad, scary as that prospect was.

  Or maybe Lance was rationalizing it because he had no power to change directions.

  Elliot snapped his fingers in front of Lance’s face. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Sorry, no. What?” Lance smirked and bumped their shoulders together. “I think you wore me out.”

  “I don’t know about that.” Elliot laughed and blushed faintly. “I was asking if you thought I should say something immediately.”

  “You already did before we got on the jet. A quick statement about prayers for the families is all you need for now.” Lance tapped his finger to his chin as he thought through the strategy. Without Corey Kingmaker yelling at him, Lance was heady with power. “Show that you care about the victims. Go to the hospital and talk to the families. We’ll send a photo crew.”

  “Won’t that be tacky? Exploiting people who are suffering?”

  “Tell the family that too much emphasis in the media is put on the bad guy, that you want to put the emphasis on the survivors and victims.” Lance sat up with another brainwave. “Tell them that you have full trust in law enforcement to get to the bottom of why, but that it will take some time to get answers and for now, we should celebrate the stories and lives of the people who made it out as we mourn those who didn’t.”

  Elliot sat back and nodded like he was taking it all in.

  “It’ll make your opponents look like what they are: ghouls.”

  “And when I make my speech?”

  Lance licked his lips. Elliot was going to win no matter what. What if for once someone spoke common sense and reason? “Common sense gun control written by people who have guns.”

  “What?” Elliot sat back, and Lance could tell he wondered if it was smart having his boyfriend on the plane rather than Corey.

  “Think about it. You’ve got two sides, or at least the idea of two sides of this argument. One says gun control, which isn’t the same as confiscating guns, but may as well be, right? But a lot of the people who demand gun control have no clue what the problem is other than that people are shooting.

  “So I’m saying, get a group of responsible gun owners and military security experts to come together and consult on a good, common sense approach. I would even say that it’s not like we can unring the bell. The guns are out there, and the majority of them aren’t being used for ill purpose. Removing guns is impossible, but we can find a way to be safer with them. You believe your constituents have real answers.”

  Elliot took a deep breath. “You mean like the NRA?”

  “Oh, fuck the NRA. They work for gun manufacturers. The more scared the population is, the more guns are sold. Their ‘responsible owner club’ is a circle jerk.” Lance started typing notes furiously. He didn’t want to lose his momentum.

  “Have you been to an NRA meeting?”

  “No.” Lance smirked and eyed Elliot. “But if it is a literal circle jerk, I could make time in my schedule.”

  “Not if you saw the members.”

  Lance pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh. “You understand what I’m saying, right? Responsible gun owners aren’t whipping up hysteria by saying that children or teachers should be armed. Or that people in movie theaters should be prepared to get in a shootout. That’s bullshit.”

  Elliot nodded. “Even as a gun lover… There’s a part of my lizard brain that says ‘yeah!’ but then I think about all the dangers of carrying my gun around children.”

  “Or how Republicans have defunded schools to the point where teachers are worn out.”

  “Hey. That’s not just Republicans.” Elliot shook his finger at Lance. “But yes, I take your point. Stressed out teachers with guns, or worse, stressed out teachers not tracking their firearms carefully enough and the guns getting into the hands of students…”

  “Right.” />
  Elliot exhaled and nodded. “So you think common sense will win the day?”

  Not in this lifetime. Lance smiled. “You’ve already decimated the primary field. You’re thirty points ahead. Let the nutjobs be nutjobs. They’re just in it for the money grab anyway. Their patrons will get bored with betting on a losing horse soon. We’ll dog and pony in San Antonio and get back to events in Nevada.”

  “Oh, Corey didn’t tell you?” Elliot tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

  “I haven’t seen him. He’s probably pissed I got to take the jet.”

  “Probably.” Elliot grinned like he enjoyed putting Corey in the corner as much as Lance did. “We’re not going back to Nevada.”

  Lance tried not to pout. “What do you mean? The primary…”

  Elliot waved it off. “Like you said, thirty points ahead. Besides, the last few presidential primaries, they’ve seriously fumbled the ball. It’s been messy with votes counted, not counted. They moved us to Vegas in the hopes of attracting more candidates there, but only a third of us even showed up. I’ve got to start thinking about the big picture. I’m far enough ahead that I should be looking at the battleground states.”

  Goodbye, room.

  Back to boring, dumpy hotels. Though Lance was on the jet… Maybe he’d be promoted to more senior staff and get a better room.

  Probably not. They were likely to bounce around so much it would hardly matter. At least tonight maybe he could sleep in his own bed. San Antonio wasn’t far from Austin.

  “Don’t look so glum, Lance. We will probably end up back in Nevada. It’s a tossup. We want to firm up Colorado, hit Iowa again.”

  Lance sighed and closed his eyes. “Right, right. No, it’s a good plan. I think we should hit Wisconsin and Pennsylvania if we have time. Parade the family around a bit.”

  “Yeah.” Elliot eyed the back of the jet as they started to lose altitude. His expression was difficult to read, but Susan pointedly hadn’t come up to visit with them during the flight.

  “My understanding is there’s no rush to deplane, if you want to write. It’s a private donor’s jet.” Elliot straightened his tie and smiled at Lance. “I’d like you to be there when I give the speech. I know you probably have your eye on home, but it would mean a lot to me.”