Season Five: French Kissing, Book 5

by Harper Bliss

  But so was Dominique.

  It would be a defining moment for both their careers and lives, but for Dominique it wasn’t the culmination of what she had worked for. When she had become president five years ago, she had a plan for this country. She hadn’t been able to accomplish everything she had promised—no president ever could—and she would surely get some flak for that tonight. But she was safe in the knowledge that she couldn’t have done any better. All the late nights, long-distance flights, and time away from her children—all the sacrifices that came with being in the highest office—had been worth it. Which was why she had, ultimately, decided that doing it all over again was worth it.

  It was also the reason she was ready for the fight of her life. Tonight.

  The debate had been going on for half an hour and they’d both scored some points—each of them peaking at exactly the times Dominique knew they would. No questions had come out of left-field. Yet.

  “Madam President,” the moderator said. Dominique had the advantage of being addressed with her title, while Rivière had to make do with either ‘Madame Rivière’ or ‘Madame Députée’.

  Dominique noticed a frisson in the air. Was it how the moderator shifted his weight in a different, slightly more nervous manner than he had before? The way he peered at the cards with the next question a little more intently? This might be a political debate first, but it was still a TV show. And this wasn’t five years ago—when a final round hadn’t even been necessary. The media had already been frenzied but not nearly as blood-thirsty as they were these days.

  “Of course, we’d be remiss if we didn’t congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials,” the moderator said. “After all, you went against your party’s instructions and voted for same-sex marriage. Now you’re benefiting from that very law you voted for so determinedly. Can we expect more socially progressive initiatives along that line from you in the future?”

  Against debate rules, Rivière held up her hand.

  “Do you mind if Madame Rivière says something?” The moderator asked.

  “Of course not.” Dominique could hardly say no in a forum as public as this.

  “I, too, would like to congratulate the president, of course,” Rivière said, a huge smile on her face—a winning smile, Dominique thought. “It must have been hard to keep it secret for such a long time.” She looked at the moderator, who now had a choice to make. Stick to the script or ask Dominique why she hadn’t announced her wedding date sooner.

  “May we ask why you didn’t announce it sooner, Madam President?”

  Dominique had no trouble at all recalling the reply she had prepared for this very question. The words flashed in her mind’s eye in clear back and white. But she felt she had a more important message to impart.

  “You may ask,” Dominique said. “But that doesn’t mean I have to answer.” She cleared her throat. She felt the initial grumblings of the audience more than she heard them. “I will tell you this, though.” She stood a little taller. “Yes, Stéphanie and I decided to have our wedding date leaked earlier this week.” A gasp went through the crowd. It was one thing to suspect this, but quite another to admit it—to actually tell the truth. “And yes, we did it because we believed it would cause an uptick in my approval ratings and, ultimately, swing some votes my way.” She paused. The TV studio went quiet. “Because politics is all about perception these days, but when you really think about it… why do presidential candidates even need PR agencies? Why can’t we just be who we are? Why isn’t what we accomplish enough?” Dominique gripped the sides of the lectern with her two hands. “What age do we live in if everything we do, needs to be curated and approved and carefully considered?” Because of the spotlight on her, Dominique couldn’t see the faces of the studio audience. “Why can’t we just be humans? People of our word?” She cast a slow glance at Rivière. “Why do we have to play these games to try and see who’s best at them, only to end up losing a little more of our dignity every single time? There are no winners when the campaign gets too personal, because, yes, a president needs to be human—very much so— and, yes, a president also has a personal life. Especially a female president, I might add. I have young children. A fiancée. An ex-husband. I have collaborators and advisors and those are all people I care about deeply.” She paused to catch her breath. Not a sound could be heard in the studio. “But does that really need to be exploited in an election campaign? Do we really believe that voters are so easily fooled?” It was time to raise her voice a notch. “My answer to both of these questions is a resounding no. I can honestly tell you that I have absolutely zero interest in what Deputée Rivière does in her private life. Nor do I care about what any of the people whom she works with get up to after hours or in their distant and not-so-distant past.” She took a second to let that sink in. “I care about what people stand for and what they have shown me that they can do. I care about the promises politicians make and if there’s evidence at all that they can fulfil them.” Another pause. “I love my fiancée and I’m over the moon that I’m getting married, but none of that should matter when someone decides to vote for me or not. This is me.” Her voice crescendoed up a little more—a trick she’d learned from Laroche Senior. “This is who I am and who I will always be. I am your president who has shown you what she can do for this country. I have nothing to hide and, more importantly, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I have nothing to hide behind a wall of PR people. And yes, I readily admit, I have PR people too. After all, it’s how I met my future wife.” Time for a smile. “But I promise you that this will be different in my second term as president. No more hiding, but also, no more of this increasingly exaggerated sensationalism about politicians’ private lives. Only pure honesty and straightforwardness.”

  Dominique noticed how the moderator was trying to interrupt her, but she ignored him. This was her moment.

  Someone must have switched Rivière’s microphone on, however, as some sounds started coming from her side of the podium.

  Dominique turned to Rivière and held up her hand. “Please, Anne. I’m almost done, but not quite yet.” She arched up her eyebrows a fraction—enough to shut up Rivière for now. Dominique imagined Sybille having a nervous breakdown behind the scenes. Solange might be doing the same.

  “To prove to you that I’m serious about this, I will share the following piece of information with you.” Dominique turned her full attention to the camera again—the camera had always loved her. “That I’m standing here today, addressing you like this, is, in its own way, a miracle. Because…” This was hard, but if ever there was a time to be utterly vulnerable, it was now. “For a while, I wasn’t sure whether I should run for president again.” Even though she couldn’t see the audience, she gave a small nod. “I know very well I’m not supposed to say this, but being your president, while very much a privilege, is hard. It takes a toll on everyone—and I won’t stand here and claim that the past five years have not taken a toll on me as well. Because they have. Because I’m not someone who does something half-heartedly. When I’m in, I’m all the way in, and my focus is undivided.” The words came easily now. “But… if my undivided focus for my work sounds a little too good to be true, it’s because it is. Because I’m only a human being, just like anyone else. I have a lot of help, but I only have twenty-four hours in one day—just like you, the people watching me tonight. Your gut reaction to me admitting to this so openly—so foolishly, I’m sure my chief of staff will tell me later—might be that I’m weak and that a president should never show any signs of weakness.” Time for a long overdue pause, but she was on a roll now, and it was impossible to stop. “But I’m here to tell you that vulnerability, that this kind of openness, is not a weakness at all. It is human and it’s necessary. Sometimes, we need to look behind the facade. That’s what I’m doing here tonight. I’m owning up to my doubts—to my imperfections. I’m showing you my true self. There’s no army of PR people between you and me tonight. I doubted; I weighed m
y choices; and only then did I make a decision, when I was absolutely sure it was the right one. Because that’s how I always make my decisions. That’s why I don’t always follow my party’s instructions.” She put a hand on her chest. “Because I have no choice but to follow my heart. Which is what I will continue to do, for you, if you allow me another term as your president. A term that I will not take lightly, but will attack with all my imperfect zeal. Thank you.”

  The first gentle clap came from somewhere in the back, then another rose from the side of the stage. Dominique looked to the left and she saw it was Steph who was applauding her. Solange, not so much. Then the studio audience took over and gave her a roaring standing ovation.

  By the time she looked ahead of her again, the spotlight was still firmly on her, but there was another bright light pointed at Rivière.

  It was time for Rivière’s counter move—time to see what she was really made of.

  Solange

  “She’s gone rogue again. This is not what we rehearsed,” Solange said to Steph. “Not in the slightest.”

  Steph shushed her.

  Solange looked across the stage, to Rivière’s entourage. Sybille stood stock still, her mouth drawn into a severe pout. Then she glanced at Dominique again, who looked much more relaxed than she had in days. She had planned this—and told no one. Not even Steph, it appeared.

  Solange was torn. It was her job to keep all the things that Dominique had just admitted to out of the news. Now they would be plastered across all the front pages tomorrow.

  She returned her attention to the stage. Dominique might have said her piece, but the debate wasn’t over yet. Everything now hinged on Rivière’s comeback—on her wherewithal without Sybille whispering things in her ear.

  The applause finally started to subside.

  “Madame Rivière, you have the floor,” the moderator said.

  “Surely,” Rivière said, “it would be a very bad idea to vote for a candidate who, not so long ago, wasn’t even sure she wanted to be president.”

  Steph looked at Solange. “She’s done it,” she said. “She’s walked right into Dominique’s trap.”

  “That was the absolute worst thing to say at this moment.” Solange glanced at Sybille again, who tried to hold on to her stoic expression, but was shaking her head nonetheless.

  Of course, Solange knew, many other people would react the way Rivière had just done. A lot of people wouldn’t respond to the vulnerability Dominique had just displayed on stage. But many more would. Because the kind of authenticity that only Dominique Laroche could bring was irresistible.

  Of course, Rivière didn’t have much choice. In fact, what she was saying on stage right now—that she surely was the better candidate, just because, at a certain moment in time, she may have wanted it more—was the only thing she could say in the aftermath of Dominique’s speech. But, in doing so, she was gravely missing the point.

  Solange’s chest swelled with pride. A tiny twinge of guilt coursed through her because she had pressured Dominique relentlessly when she was having doubts. But that was her job. Everyone had their part to play—and Dominique had played hers brilliantly tonight. Solange should never have doubted her.

  Nevertheless, it would still be touch and go. What Dominique had just admitted to didn’t guarantee her re-election at all. But she had done what she always did—her very best. Laroche-style.

  She had hijacked tonight’s debate and put herself firmly in the spotlight, and she hadn’t played or humiliated anyone to accomplish it. She had just been herself. And that was the beauty of someone like Dominique Laroche. Her approval ratings may drop from time to time—especially when an exciting candidate like Rivière entered the scene—and salacious details about the people in her entourage might be leaked, but she was such a steady force. To top it all off, she had the likability factor firmly in her camp. Even Solange had to admit that having Steph by her side had only increased that.

  Solange watched her candidate ride out the rest of this crucial debate like a pro, undeterred and brimming with charisma, putting her opponent firmly in her shadow—at least for a little while.

  When Dominique entered the green room, everyone applauded. She gave each one of them a warm hug—Solange included.

  “Before you lay into me,” Dominique said to Solange, “give me a few minutes to enjoy this.”

  Solange shook her head. “Whatever I have to say can wait until the morning.”

  Solange’s phone was buzzing in her pocket like a trapped fly. All the newspapers would want a quote from her before their fast-approaching deadline. But the Laroche campaign was in the lead tonight. Solange was sure Rivière would give the press all the quotes they wanted—but none of them would be better than anything Dominique had said on stage tonight.

  Steph fished her own buzzing phone out of her pocket and did pick up.

  “It’s the kids,” she said to Dominique.

  Dominique took the call and walked to a corner of the room.

  “I think Lisa was crying,” Steph said.

  “That was a hell of a thing she said,” Solange said.

  “I’m surprised.” Steph cocked her head. “I thought you’d be more upset.”

  “Perhaps I should be, but I’m not.” Solange painted on a smile.

  “How about an impromptu post-debate party?” Steph looked at her expectantly.

  “We have a busy week of last-minute campaigning ahead.” Solange might be impressed by what Dominique had done, but someone had to keep a level head through all of this. “Let’s save the parties for next week. We’re by no means home-free yet.”

  Steph nodded. “Dominique wouldn’t want a party, anyway.”

  “We need to keep our eye on the prize now.”

  “And on the competition.” Claire had walked up to them. Solange wasn’t yet sure how she felt about Claire re-joining the campaign—but she didn’t have the time to worry about it. Sometimes, she had to let other people on the team make a decision. “This will only spur them on.”

  “If they realise the mistake they’ve made and don’t harp on about Dominique’s unwillingness to be president, which is so completely beside the point,” Steph said.

  “It’s our job to get that message across,” Claire said.

  “You do belong to the PR army Dominique condemned on stage,” Steph said.

  “So do you,” Claire replied, “and you’re marrying her.”

  Juliette

  “Does Margot still want to go to Korea?” Juliette asked. It was the day after the debate and she and Claire were sitting in her office at Barbier & Cyr—it seemed like a brand-new and age-old experience at the same time.

  “I don’t think so,” Claire said. “She seems to have let go of the idea of finding her birth parents.”

  “She seemed to be doing much better when I saw her on her birthday.”

  “Time has passed, Jules. And time is always our greatest ally.”

  “The hell it is.” Juliette dragged a finger over the crow’s feet next to her eyes. “This is what time does to our skin.”

  “It makes you look mature and wise,” Claire said.

  “I think this election campaign has taken a few years off my life.” She glanced at Claire. “I didn’t just miss your input or the work that you do. There was something else missing when you weren’t here.”

  “My wit, no doubt,” Claire joked.

  “Your questionable sense of humour, perhaps, yes,” Juliette continued unperturbed. Dominique’s speech last night had made her think. Maybe she should be a pinch more vulnerable as well. And tell Claire what she meant to her in terms that would never make her forget again. “But not just that. It’s what happens when we’re together. How we’re more than the sum of our parts. How one plus one equals so much more than two, but only between the two of us. I adore Steph, and maybe things would be different if she wasn’t first lady, but it’s not the same with her. We don’t have the same rapport.”

&nbs
p; Claire nodded. “I think some of that rapport had gone missing when I went to see Aurore.”

  “We weren’t on the same wavelength anymore. Hadn’t been for a while.”

  “It happens.” Claire drew her lips into a small smile. “To the best of friends.”

  “I was so angry with you. Maybe disproportionally so, because I felt like we were drifting apart. That we wanted different things for the company. And it hurt.”

  “On top of being best friends, we’re also business partners,” Claire said. “We’re lucky that we’ve only had a few fallings-out, really.”

  Juliette chuckled. “Well, there was that time when you slept with the woman Nadia cheated on me with.”

  “Marie Dievart,” Claire said wistfully. “She’s gone, Jules, and we’re still here. Margot and Nadia are still here.”

  “So is Sybille, unfortunately,” Juliette said. “And you’re friends with Inez now.” She shook her head. “What has the world come to?”

  “Such is life. Unpredictable and hard at times, but always full of surprises.”

  “And friends,” Juliette said. “Life is so much better with good friends.”

  A knock came on the door.

  “Come in,” Juliette said.

  Leah walked in. Juliette introduced her to Claire. Claire had a slightly envious look in her eye, but she would get over it soon enough.

  After Leah had gushed over Dominique’s debate performance, Juliette asked her if she had any more news from her ‘spy’ at Johnson PR.

  “I’m afraid not. Let’s face it, the news of Aurore Seauve’s video did reach me rather late as well. I’m not saying my ex-colleague is deliberately holding things back, but… my source seems to have dried up. They must be all up in arms this morning, though.”

  Another knock on the door. It was Zoya.

  Juliette looked at the pair of them. Maybe they were the future of Barbier & Cyr. If even politicians didn’t need PR people working for them anymore, who did?