“This is Brea, that’s Que, and she’s my youngest, Corrine. I named her after my grandmother.”
I looked at the pictures, admiring how beautiful her children were. Michelle seemed to be a good mother—a decent person in general. I didn’t want to cloud anyone’s perception of her in any way, but there was something about her that I was drawn to.
“Your children are beautiful, as you are. I’m looking forward to having some children one day too.”
She smiled, then directed me to the other side of the loft where there was a spacious bathroom. A Jacuzzi tub was in the middle of the floor, shower to the right. Countertops were topped with black-and-white swirling marble, as was the floor. The tub was filled with water and bubbles with steam coming from it. A bath sponge sat on the edge, along with numerous bottles of soaps and oils.
“I know I hurt you earlier when I squeezed your waist, and as you stood at the podium tonight, I could tell you were in pain from the way you kept touching your side. I suspect you’ve already seen a doctor, but allow me to take care of you tonight. Relax, and I promise to save the questions I have about what really happened at the White House for another day.”
Michelle took my jacket from my hand, tossing it on the counter. She stood in front of me, unbuttoning my shirt, then peeling it away from my chest and shoulders. The bandages around my midsection were visible; she carefully removed them, then assisted me in removing my slacks. I stood naked, watching as she studied every inch of me.
“Those bruises look painful. Are you sure nothing is broken?”
“Positive. But now that you have me naked, what else do you need me to do?”
“I need you to come over here.” She made her way to the tub, sitting on the edge of it. “Get in the water and relax. I hope it’s not cold, and if it is, let me know and I’ll warm it up for you again.”
I stepped into the water; one word came to mind—Perfect.
“This feels fine,” I said before sinking my body in the water and resting my head back on a contoured pillow. “Real good. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Michelle reached for the sponge, lathering it with soap. She positioned herself on her knees, and while outside of the tub, she thoroughly washed and massaged me. I felt as if I had died and gone to heaven. My eyes couldn’t stay open, and with every gentle touch, every massage that just happened to be in all the right places, and every kiss that she placed on my lips, I was sucked right in.
“Thank you, again, for this,” I mumbled with my eyes nearly shut. “You are an incredible woman.”
She didn’t reply. And through my blurred vision, I saw her stand and remove her robe. She climbed in the tub with me, but instead of sitting behind me like she wanted to, I requested that she sit in front of me.
“I just didn’t want to put any pressure on you from lying against your body,” she said.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her body as close to me as I could, with her back against my chest.
“I can handle your body against mine. Any day and any time.”
Michelle clenched her hands together with mine. We lay silently in the warm tub, taking it all in. Her eyes were closed too, and as my eyelids started to get heavier, I felt myself fading. Michelle lifted her head, turning it slightly to the side.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” she whispered in a soft tone, “but I wanted you to know something. I’m falling in love with you. Trying so hard not to, but I can’t help myself.”
I had heard her. And I responded by leaning in and planting a gentle, passionate kiss on her lips. After that, I was out.
23
Real Estate Tycoon and Billionaire, Christopher J. McNeil
I cringed while watching the president and Gena on TV. Was she fucking stupid? My heart ached for my grandson, Tyler. Couldn’t believe none of this had happened, but I didn’t believe, for one measly second, that he was dead. This was a fucking game Mr. President was playing. He didn’t have enough balls to kill Tyler, and he knew if he damn well did, he would wage a war that he wasn’t ready for.
Unable to sleep, I paced the floor in my burgundy silk robe and house shoes. A pipe dangled from the corner of my mouth, and I kept turning my head toward the TV every time I heard a reporter mention Tyler’s name. I always tuned in to watch Johnny Baton, but he was way off base tonight.
This is a tragic day for our country. No one could have ever predicted that our vice president, or possibly our president, for that matter, would ever be gunned down on the premises of the White House. Tyler McNeil served our country with great pride. At the president’s request, Tyler boldly took on his new position, determined to assist in bringing both parties together. It is with a heavy heart that I say he will be missed dearly. As I watched his wife, Gena, and the president tonight, I felt a deep desire to stand with them. We’re all in this together. It is time that we put aside our differences and do what is right for this country as a whole.
Another female commentator spoke up. I wholeheartedly agree. Our president has been through a lot, and he hasn’t even been in office for one year. I witnessed the pain in his eyes, and I cried the whole time I watched him speak. This is terrible, and this is not who we are as a country.
My eye twitched as I watched those two idiots speak about Tyler and give their take on watching the press conference tonight. I was sure many others empathized with Stephen, and it angered me so much that I picked up a glass, throwing it at the TV. The only thing that cracked was the glass. Shards hit the floor, as did one of my wife’s porcelain statues. She came into the room, tightening her robe. Her eyes were red from bawling so much after receiving the news that Tyler was dead. Unfortunately, she believed it, even though I told her it was a bunch of bull.
“Christopher McNeil, why don’t you turn that TV off and come lie with me in bed? I’ve been trying to reach Margie and Gena, but no one is answering their phones. We should go there by noon, that’s if you ain’t done spoken to them already.”
“I have spoken to them. They’re coming here tomorrow, so hush and go lay your head on a pillow. I’ll join you shortly.”
“You need to join me now. Breaking things in here won’t help you one single bit. And if you’re convinced that Tyler ain’t dead, then why are you in here fussing with yourself?”
Sometimes my wife irritated the heck out of me. “Shut your fat mouth, woman, and go to bed! Let me be and stop talking to me while I’m Thinking.”
She mumbled something underneath her breath before leaving the room. I fell back in the chair, thinking of ways to get ahead of Mr. President. I knew what he was aiming for, and I would do everything within my power to make sure he didn’t get it. First, I had to find my grandson. I needed to know where Tyler was. If he was, indeed, dead, I would personally go to the White House and burn that sucker down—with Mr. President and his family in it.
* * *
Later that morning, I sat with numerous family members including Gena, Tyler’s mother, Margie, and his father, Gerald, was expected to join us this afternoon. Also in the room was Senator Bass and six other Republicans in the House of Representatives who owed me dearly due to my numerous contributions to their campaigns. I stressed, immediately, that I thought the president was being untruthful about what had happened to Tyler. Some agreed; some did not.
“What do you suppose happened then?” Senator Bass questioned. “The president provided proof. He released the threatening letters he received, and there were photos of him and his family with their heads cut off. You may not like the president, sir, but I don’t think he would fabricate a story quite like that one.”
“Neither do I,” Gena said tearfully. “All I want to know is, where is Tyler? Nothing else matters, and I’m holding on to hope that he’s still alive.”
“Me too,” Margie said, hugging Gena.
I gazed at the three foolish women. Didn’t want to tell them what was on my mind—I would hurt some feelings.
/> “I’m willing to make a bet with any person in this room who believes Tyler is dead. I have a million dollars that says he’s alive—I feel it in my heart. That grimy nigger is playing games with us and with the American people. Why can’t you idiots see through his bag of lies? He’s using us to get what he wants, and Senator Bass, your ass better be ready to shut him down! Our party is on the brink of losing everything. We will lose our majority in the Supreme Court, and the Democrats will continue to have their way. I keep hearing about movement on gun control, and if any of you vote for a bill that is in line with what Stephen C. Jefferson wants, I will have your heads on a silver platter. My partners and I will no longer fund your campaigns, and you all will be left with a bag of bones to feed your families.”
“I don’t want to hear this right now, Father,” Margie said, snapping at me. “Tyler could very well be dead! The focus should be on finding out what happened to him, not on the goddamn Republican Party. Why must everything be so political to you? Don’t you even care about your grandson?”
I lifted my finger, pointing at her with raised brows. “Margie, you lower your voice or leave this room right now! You will not speak to me that way in my house! Of course I care about my grandson. But I’m not going to stand by and allow a nigger to tell me he’s dead, when I think otherwise. How in the hell can you trust a nigger, and you know how much they lie. I won’t stand—”
“No, Christopher,” Senator Bass said, interrupting me. She stood, then tucked her purse underneath her arm. “I won’t stand by and listen to you use that kind of language when referring to our president, and I don’t care how much money you’ve contributed to my campaign over the years. Enough is enough, and using racial slurs like that is very upsetting to me. I won’t be a part of this anymore, so ladies and gentlemen, please excuse me. I do have work to do.”
Senator Bass started toward the door, but I yelled after her. “You can walk out that door all you want, but if your fat ass does not fall in line, you are done! You will never hold public office again, and I will make sure that when history is written, it will recognize you as the nigger-loving cunt responsible for the demise of our party!”
“No, Christopher. When history is written, my dear, it will recognize me as a courageous woman who stood against racist fools like you and saved our party’s reputation. It will show that I respected others, all while protecting our conservative values. This won’t be over until the fat lady sings, and trust me when I say, you haven’t heard me sing yet.”
I sucked my teeth, then spit tobacco in a cup. “Hush your mouth, woman. I’ve heard you sing, moan, groan, and weep in my bedroom, and it still didn’t do the job. The only reason you’re Speaker of the House is because I put you there. And at the snap of my little ol’ finger, I can make you disappear.”
“You mean, like I’m about to do when I walk out of here? Good-bye, Christopher, and please beware . . . When I do sing, my voice is going to be loud and clear. You’re not going to like it, but that’s too bad. You’ll get over it, as you did when I walked out on you years ago, because, quite frankly, my dear, your sex was horrible. Those moans and groans you still remember were fake.”
Senator Bass left the room. Margie stood too.
“I’ve heard enough of this God awful mess. Do whatever you plan to do to fix this, Father. In the meantime, my concern is for my child.”
Without saying a word, Margie and Gena left the room. I looked at the others, waiting for them to speak up. No one dared to.
“Eyes and ears open,” I said. “There will be a big reward for anyone who can tell me where my grandson is or find out what really happened to him. Until then, can I count on everyone here to stick together? Let me know now; I don’t want any surprises. If there are cowards in the room, please come forth.”
All eyes shifted around the room. We exchanged handshakes, and I assumed we were all in agreement about what needed to be done.
24
First Lady Raynetta Jefferson
I was starting to lose my mind up in here. Stephen had his mother and me on lock; I was barely able to take a piss without Secret Service lurking over my shoulders. I was, however, able to listen to Stephen while in the Press Briefing Room. And when he left, I saw him enter one of the meeting rooms with Michelle Peoples. I wondered what they discussed, but since he didn’t even come back to the bedroom last night, I could only assume where he was. Bastard—it was time for me to make a move. I only had two hours of sleep. Got up, checked my schedule for the day, and talked to my assistant, Claire. She was always ten steps ahead of everyone around here. She confirmed that Stephen had left the White House hours ago and had not yet returned.
“Any idea where he went?” I asked while sitting on the sofa in my office. My legs were crossed, and I bit my nail, looking at it and thinking how badly I needed a manicure.
“No idea, because the Secret Service agent I usually get my information from was released of his duties. There are other ways to find out, if you want me to.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll find out, and in the meantime, give me a rundown of my schedule today.”
“Late last night, the president requested that your schedule be revised. He cleared the entire thing and is demanding that you stay here. I can, however, tell you what your prior engagements were. If you’d like to keep those appointments, please let me know.”
“I don’t care about the president’s demands. Keep my schedule as is, and after I eat breakfast, I’ll meet you right back here so we can go. Will you be joining me for breakfast or not?”
“I already ate, but thanks. I’ll see you within the hour, and I’ll let Secret Service know when you’re ready to go.”
“Thank you, Claire. I appreciate you.”
In an effort to get some privacy, I headed to the President’s Dining Room on the second floor, near the North Lawn. I had hoped Stephen would be there, but he wasn’t. A Secret Service agent was close by, one I hadn’t seen before. He had been following me, ever since I was on the lower level. I was annoyed, especially when I sat at the round table that already had an array of fruits and breads on it. The agent came inside of the room, standing by the door.
“Really?” I said, turning to face him. “Is this necessary?”
“Per the president’s request, I am not to let you out of my sight. So, yes, it is very necessary.”
“Do you have to be so close? I mean, if I pass gas, you can probably smell it. Can’t you go somewhere and watch me from afar?”
He chuckled, showing his pearly white teeth. I couldn’t help but to think that he was kind of cute, but almost a little too short for my taste. Bald head had a shine, goatee suited his chin well. His build was impressive too, and in addition to that, he was a sexy chocolate, like Stephen, but definitely not as handsome as Stephen was.
“Please don’t do that,” he said, referring to me passing gas. “Especially not while you’re having breakfast.”
“I promise not to, as long as you go stand somewhere else. I don’t like people to watch me eat.”
Without saying a word, he moved outside of the door so I wouldn’t see him. I reached for a roll to put butter on it. As I spread butter on the roll with a knife, I heard a loud voice coming my way. I looked up and saw Teresa, fussing at an agent who was behind her.
“I’m not having this,” she said. “Where is Stephen? I need to talk to him right now.”
I was blunt, as usual. “He’s having breakfast with one of his whores. I’ll be sure to let him know you’re looking for him . . . whenever he gets here.”
Just to annoy me, Teresa pulled back one of the chairs, sitting at the table with me. This early in the morning, she was all dolled up in a tan linen suit with pearls draped around her neck. Her salt-and-pepper hair was styled in a neat layered cut with bangs covering her forehead. Her manicure looked freshly done, and her makeup looked done by a professional. Diamond rings were on her fingers, and I surely wondered where she was headed today looking
rather jazzy.
“You don’t need to tell him nothing for me. I will probably see him before you do, and if he’s with one of his whores, that’s your problem, not mine.”
She reached for a plate and started scooping mixed fruit from the bowl. Minutes later, one of the White House servers asked if we wanted anything else to eat.
“I only put fruit and bread on the table because that’s what the president normally eats. If either of you would like something else, I’ll be happy to prepare it. I know how much you like my pancakes,” Joe said, smiling at me. “It will only take me ten or twenty minutes to make them for you.”
“No, thank you, Joe. The fruit is fine, and so is the bread. I would, however, like some apple juice. Can you get some for me?”
“Of course. I’ll be happy to.”
“And while you’re getting her apple juice,” Teresa said, pulling him closer and whispering, “would you get me a glass of wine and two aspirin? My back is killing me from sleeping in that bed, and how in the world do they have uncomfortable mattresses like that in the White House? I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your back, but any particular kind of wine? And I’ll be sure to get your aspirin too.”
Teresa looked to be in deep thought before snapping her fingers. “What about a bottle of Petrus Pomerol from Bordeaux, France. They make some of the most exquisite wines, and if there are any bottles around here, I would love to have them.”
“I don’t know if we have that one in particular around here, but I’m sure I can find you something else very tasty.”
Just that fast, she snapped. “If it’s not that one, I don’t want it. Thank you very much, though.”
Joe smiled, then walked away. I just shook my head at Teresa. Who in the hell drank an expensive bottle of wine like that this early in the morning? I hated to sit at the table with her; it was difficult to ignore her.
“Ne-ne, pass me the butter over there. These rolls are a little hard. I need something to soften them up a bit.”
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