“I . . . I don’t know what to say to you right now.” I looked at her with disgust. “What in the hell are you doing?”
She snapped her fingers and bobbed her head, as if music was thumping from somewhere.
“Don’t you dare stand there and look at me like that. I’m the mother, you’re still the child. I was dancing, that’s what I was doing, before you interrupted me.”
“No, what you were doing was making a damn spectacle of yourself. When you snap out of this and see your face plastered on the news tomorrow, you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about. It’s going to sting.”
She threw her hand back and pursed her lips. “So what, Stephen, who cares? These people love me. That’s why they can’t stop taking pictures of me and following me around. I’m a superstar. A worldwide superstar. As long as they didn’t pull out the violins and start playing anything from Fiddler on the Roof, I’m cool.”
She started twirling around, dancing again. I opened the door to immediately get my Secret Service agent’s attention.
“Please get her out of here and take her home. Make sure she’s tucked in bed and keep your eyes on her for the entire night.”
“Ooooh, sounds real freaky to me.” She opened her arms wide. “Come here, suga. Pick me up, carry me home, and lay me in my bed. You can stay the night, if you want to. But just so you know, I will put a serious hurting on you.”
She giggled and almost fell when she started spinning again. Bruce escorted her away, eventually having to carry her because she was too intoxicated to walk. I was frustrated as hell. So frustrated and embarrassed that I didn’t even return to the party. I said good night to Andrew who was back on his cell phone. And to Tyler who had been watching me and my mother, making sure everything was okay.
“Get some rest,” he said, squeezing my shoulder as he walked beside me. “You need to go to your bedroom tonight, hold your beautiful wife, and sleep for as long as you can. I’m sure you’ll feel much better tomorrow.”
I shook hands with Tyler, then headed to the second floor where my bedroom was. Sleep was exactly what I needed, but when I got to the bedroom and saw Raynetta lying naked in bed, I wanted something else too. She had come clean today—maybe I needed to come clean too. Maybe even tell her that no matter how upset I was with her, I still loved her. I still wanted our marriage to work, and I still wanted her to one day have our child. The least she could do was give me a son or daughter. I truly felt that she would be a wonderful mother. Had every ounce of faith that she would be. I didn’t understand why she didn’t see that, but I had to convince her to, one day, change her mind. If not, it would be just a matter of time before someone else gave me what I desired to have.
I removed my tuxedo, took a quick shower, then got in bed with Raynetta. As she lay sideways with the pillow tucked between her legs, I moved in close behind her. I wrapped one arm around her waist, squeezing it as I moved her hair aside, planting kisses along the side of her neck. She began to softly moan. Even clenched one of her hands together with mine. A smile crept on her face . . . before she cracked her eyes wide open.
“Stephen?” she said. “Wha . . . Is that you?”
I sucked her earlobe and gave her a huge hint when I pressed my steel against her. “Who else does this feel like?”
She snapped her head farther to the side to look at me. Her hand loosened from mine; her expression fell flat.
“You couldn’t be serious, are you?”
“What do you mean? Serious about what?”
“About you and me, we, us, having sex.”
“What’s wrong with us having sex? The last time I checked, we are still married, aren’t we?”
“Is that what it’s called when you take it upon yourself to screw other women on Air Force One and in the woods? A marriage? No, my dear, we don’t have a marriage. What we have is an arrangement, and a piece of legal paper that doesn’t mean a darn thing. Until I believe it does, please don’t touch me. Don’t put that thing anywhere near me, and stay over there on your side of the bed.”
She used her elbow to shove me away from her. I was in disbelief.
“You didn’t have a problem with our marriage the other night when you attempted to have sex with me. Why put up a fuss now?”
Raynetta ignored me. She grunted, then pulled the cover over her head. Deep down, I was pissed. I wanted to leave the room, but instead, I turned my back to hers, grunting too. Before I knew it, I was out.
Unfortunately for me, sleep didn’t last for long. I was awakened by the constant ringing of my phone. It was a little after three in the morning, so I hurried to pick up the phone to see what was up. All I heard was the urgency in Andrew’s voice.
“Mr. President, sorry to wake you, but you need to get to the Oval Office right away.”
I wasted no time asking why. All I did was toss the covers aside, put on some clothes, and then I headed to the Oval Office. By the time I reached the lower level, Secret Service was waiting for me. We all walked down the corridor together and into the West Wing. I entered the Oval Office where Andrew and Tyler stood with frightened looks on their faces. My thoughts immediately turned to my mother.
“Wha . . . What’s going on?” I asked.
“About an hour ago, there were three attacks on our army bases. Total of fourteen soldiers dead, nine severely injured,” Tyler confirmed. “We don’t know if the incidents were terrorist attacks or not, but it appears that the three individuals who planned these massacres all worked together. More specific details are coming to us soon.”
“From what I gather, it doesn’t seem related to terrorism,” Andrew said. “These guys may have been American, but we’ll know soon.”
I released a deep sigh; nothing but frustration showed on my face. Specific details meant that, yet again, I would have to see, with my own eyes, the brutal killings take place. I had to witness fear in people’s eyes as they were gunned down, their cries for loved ones, and pleas for God to spare them. This was downright ridiculous.
“What’s the status of the attackers?” I asked.
“Dead,” Tyler confirmed. “All three were shot to death by other soldiers. One was seventeen, and the other two were twenty-one. They were connected to several hate groups online; that’s why I think the incident was related to terrorism. Those same groups are now considering them heroes.”
Andrew continued to disagree. I sensed that he and Tyler didn’t get along too well. “Many hate groups are formed right here in our own country. We need to stop blaming others for committing these crimes and look in our own backyard.”
Tyler fired back, and they kept bickering. It irritated the fuck out of me. “We’ll see, as soon as we get more information,” Tyler said.
“Regardless,” I said, “they are not heroes. Heroes my ass.” I turned to Andrew. “Make sure Senator Bass’s unproductive self is in my office by noon. I take it that she’ll be replacing Speaker Robinson, correct?”
“It looks that way right now,” Andrew replied. “But you just never know, especially when it comes to the Republican Party, or should I say, what’s left of it. Either way, I’ll make sure that she’s here by noon.”
I sat on the sofa, waiting until more information became available about the killings. And when much of the information was provided to me, no question, these guys were Americans. They were born here, went to school here, trained to shoot guns here, and died here. I was sick to my stomach. Many of the soldiers had fought in wars. They made it home safely from war, but weren’t even safe on American soil. Something was definitely wrong with that picture, and shame on us all for allowing this to become the norm.
A few minutes before noon, Senator Bass came into my office wasting no time sitting down and telling me what she could not do.
“I’m not a miracle worker, Mr. President, and as I said to you before, this is no easy fix.”
“And as I said to you before, we have to start somewhere. Now that Speaker Robinson is out, I nee
d you to go back to your caucus and have a serious, long talk with them about where this country is headed if we do not do anything about gun control. Let’s start there and somehow work our way into creating legislation that can help save lives.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, but I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, I hope you understand that if I make a move on this, I could very well lose my job, come election time. My party will vote against me, and that would be a shame because I’ve dedicated my life to helping the American people.”
“The way I see it, we all have to leave this institution some time. What we accomplish during our time here is what really matters. So, you decide if you want to stay here and do nothing, or start really helping the American people, as you say. And don’t stop at gun control reform. Many of the neighborhoods where I come from need manufacturing companies built there, not in China. They need opportunities, not welfare checks and EBT cards. Teachers in those neighborhoods need to be paid well, and we need to fix an educational system that is severely broken. I need to work with a Speaker who is willing to focus on all people, not just a specific few. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I do understand, but I hope you also understand that it is not the government’s responsibility to keep giving handouts. We are—”
I held up my hand to silence her, deeply frowning. “Handouts? Please don’t make me call you anything other than your birth name. I don’t know where this ‘handout’ shit comes from, but the truth is, somebody needs to be handing out something, when you take into consideration the harm this here institution has caused African American families over many decades. There have been laws created to separate our families, to affect the education of our children, to keep us at poverty level, and to deny our equal rights. And let’s not talk about this fucked-up judicial system. I could go on and on, but if I do, I will prohibit you from getting off your ass, right now, and go do something about what we’ve discussed.”
Senator Bass’s eyes were wide as saucers. “You . . . You’re not going to call me names and bully me, Mr. President! I won’t have it, and this is not how you get people to listen to you.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but I’m angry, Senator Bass. I need your help, not excuses. My approach may be a bit much for some, but if I can recall, there was a decent, kind, very professional black president in office before, and motherfuckers still didn’t want to work with him. You already know how he was treated, but not this time. There’s too much at stake, and with the Republican Party facing a decline, I can only ask that you step up and do what you can to save it. This may be your final opportunity.”
She released a deep breath, then stood. “Give me some time to process all of this. I’ll check back with you in a week or so to let you know how the others respond.”
“I don’t have a week or two. Days. Convene with your caucus in the next few days. We need to move, especially on gun control ASAP. I don’t have to remind you that we’ve already wasted enough time.”
Senator Bass said that she would get back to me soon. The second she left my office, Bruce, my Secret Service agent, came in.
“George is going to relieve me for the day, sir. My sister’s wedding is later, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“That’s fine. Tell your sister I said congrats.”
“Will do and thank you.”
Before he walked away, I stopped him.
“Did my mother get some rest last night? I know she was a mess, and I apologize for any inconvenience that may have caused.”
“No inconvenience, Mr. President. I tucked her in real nicely last night, and the two of us had enormous fun.”
He winked and laughed; I didn’t see anything funny. I wasn’t sure what he meant when he stressed the words, “enormous fun.”
“Do you care to elaborate on how much fun the two of you had?”
He chuckled, again, smiling as if he really didn’t want to say. His face turned red, and it was even redder when I rushed up to him, grabbing his throat. I shoved him backward, slamming the back of his head against the wall.
“I need a good laugh, so tell me what in the fuck is so funny!”
With a tight grip on his neck, he couldn’t tell me if he tried. All he could do was claw at my hand, trying to get me to loosen my grip. When I did, he bent over and started gagging. Saliva dripped from his mouth; he used his hands to soothe his throat.
“I . . . I was only kidding, sir.” He released several hard coughs. “Just joking around, that’s all.”
“I’m a grown-ass man who doesn’t appreciate you joking about my mother. Now, get the fuck out of here and have all the fun you want at your sister’s wedding. Travel to her honeymoon with her, and take all the time you need on your new job search while you’re at it. After today, there is no need for you to come back here. You’re done, and thanks for your service.”
“What?” he shouted. “You can’t fucking dismiss me! I did nothing wrong, and now we can’t even joke around here?”
“No, you can’t. And you know what else you can’t do? You can’t yell in my office and talk shit to me. For the last time, go shake a leg at your sister’s wedding and do not come back here.”
He tightened his fists and took a few steps forward. I stepped forward too, with the gaze of a cold-blooded killer in my eyes.
“Trust me when I say that you don’t want none of this. Leave here alive or exit in a body bag. Your choice.”
He ranted some more but was smart enough not to challenge me. I didn’t trust him anyway, and soon after he left, I called Andrew back into my office, telling him that it was now time to bring in a few good men from my hood to protect me. He thought I was joking, but he soon found out that joking around wasn’t something I did too often.
* * *
Later that afternoon, and to no surprise, things got more chaotic. Another unarmed black man had been gunned down, and riots were brewing in several cities. Two police departments were on fire, and the Black Lives Matter organization was in full effect in the streets. Race relations were another matter I had asked my administration to help me tackle, and as I was given an update over the phone, it sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me.
“Unfortunately, Shelby, all that you’re saying to me right now is not enough. Setting up panels, having discussions, making phone calls . . . Come on, you and your team have to do better. The next time we talk, I want to hear solutions about how we intend to unite people. How we can work with police departments and rid them of crooked cops who don’t belong there. What we need to do to make good-paying jobs available, and what is the best way to get some of these kids off the streets and into training programs that will be beneficial to them in the long run. I have an array of ideas, but I want to see what you all can come up with too. Let’s talk in a few days. Hopefully, by then, you’ll have some better ideas on the table.”
“I will, Mr. President. I assure you that I will do my best.”
That’s what they all say, I thought as we ended the call. And if everyone around here was doing their best, shit wouldn’t be as bad as it was. I shook my head, then lifted the newspaper in front of me. My mother and I made the front page of almost every newspaper, and all the journalists wrote about was how drunk and unstable she was. Raynetta’s dress was also the topic, and many praised her for making good choices when it came to clothes. All of that nonsense rolled off my back, but I sat as if cement was poured over me as I watched Chanel’s show later that evening.
“The photos you are about to see are very graphic and sexual in nature and may disturb some of you. In an effort to protect the female’s identity, we have blurred her face. You all will recognize the man in the photos as our president, Stephen C. Jefferson. A president who uses our tax-paying dollars to buy women lavish gifts, just so he can spread their legs on Air Force One. This isn’t the only woman the president has spent his time with, and we have obtained additional photos of him with prostitutes, as well as strippers. I’m tot
ally blown away by his actions, and I surely didn’t vote for him so that he could use his bully pulpit to lure women into the bedroom. What a shame. I can only wonder how the first lady feels about all of this.”
The distorted photos were shown, making my face very clear, but Chanel’s face totally unrecognizable. Her body looked much thicker, and whoever doctored the photos, they made her skin darker. No photos of me existed with prostitutes or strippers. It was just another lie to get people to tune in, and for Chanel to make me look bad. But lying about a president, especially me, was a bad move. Chanel was taking a big risk. She just didn’t know how badly she had damaged herself tonight. I continued to watch, as many other reporters couldn’t wait to chime in.
“This is why our leaders can’t get things done. If all we have is a president who can’t lead Congress but can lead women into his bedroom, then we have a big problem. I’m disgusted because I voted for this guy. He needs to be thrown out of there and replaced with someone who has time to deal with what happened today to our soldiers. And let’s not forget about the two officers who lost their lives in those riots today.”
“No, let’s not forget about the black man who was killed for no reason,” another journalist said. “I hear what everyone is saying about the president, but I’ll wait to hear from him before jumping to any conclusions. I’m not sure about those photos, and we all know that photos can be manipulated. And if it is him, I will say that from head to toe, he is truly blessed. That is a tad bit of information I don’t mind sharing.”
Black President Page 14
