Madame President Page 11

  I think back to yesterday and try to remember how it felt to hold the little girl who didn’t want to let me go. I see the image in my mind and I gasp because as I picture myself in my head, I relive my emotions and I realize what’s different with the newspaper picture.

  I’m not wearing my mask.

  Before today, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of myself without my mask firmly in place and to do so for the first time in the Oval Office, with the knowledge that millions of others are seeing it as well, is a bit unsettling to say the least.

  I don’t want to let on how much the picture affects me. “It’s a decent enough shot of me, I guess.”

  David’s mouth drops open at my words. Even Nicole, whose face is always eerily blank, looks at me as if I’ve completely lost it.

  “If all you can say about this photograph is that it’s decent enough,” David finally manages to get out. “Then you are clearly overworked, and I’ll get with Ms. Tanner,” he says, referring to Nicole. “And have her schedule you some downtime.”

  “And a long weekend at Camp David,” Nicole pipes up to add, and David nods, far too enthusiastically.

  “As it is,” he says. “I need to send The Daily a thank-you note for sending Roger to be part of the pool.”

  “Why would you do that?” I ask.

  David’s forehead wrinkles as if he’s worried about something. “You know, I was mostly kidding before, but maybe you do need a few days off.”

  Now it’s my turn to look at him as if he’s lost his mind because he’s not making any sense at all.

  “Roger,” he says, like he’s explaining something to a child, and I don’t appreciate his tone one bit. “From The Daily is the man who took the picture.”

  Of course I know who Roger is and where he works. I search my mind and flip through my memories of the day before. I’m not sure if I remember seeing Roger after we left for the tour. I want to think it was Navin I saw out of the corner of my eye while I was reading to Emma.

  I hadn’t turned my head to see full on who was taking my picture and while if you saw Roger and Navin standing side-by-side, you’d never think it possible to confuse one for the other, I suppose stranger things have happened. Was it possible I’d thought I saw Navin since my focus at the time had not been who was taking my picture, but rather, on the little girl in my arms?

  Not to mention, the photo’s credit clearly has Roger’s name.

  And why would Navin have been taking pictures yesterday, anyway? Maybe I only want Navin to be the one who took the photo.

  I need to stop any thought David might have that I’m under too much stress or need a break. “Sorry,” I say. “Emma’s doctor’s name is Roger and when I saw the picture of her, that’s where my mind went.” I flash him my fake smile. “I was trying to come up with a reason why we’d send The Daily a thank you note for him.”

  David chuckles and shakes his head.

  “You know,” I say to him, wanting to change the subject. “I was thinking yesterday, we should organize an event to raise awareness and research funds for childhood cancers.” I point to the newspaper he’s placed on a nearby table. “If this photo is drawing that much interest, let’s harness all that publicity and those good vibes and work them into something beneficial.”

  “That is an excellent idea, Madame President,” David says and I’m pleased he’s no longer talking about me taking time off. “Let me talk to a few people and make some phone calls, and I’ll see what we need to do to make this happen.”

  He leaves seconds later, looking thrilled at the prospect of using the photograph for a worthy cause. I turn to Nicole. “Where were we?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Him

  White House

  Washington DC

  When I took the picture of Anna and Emma, I knew it was a good shot. It never occurred to me it would go viral, and I’m not prepared to handle Roger when it does. He’s freaking out because everything lists him as the creator.

  “But I’m not, Navin,” he says for what must be the fifth time today, eyes pleading like there’s something I can do. “I didn’t take that picture.”

  It’s three days after the photograph was published and to be honest, I wish the entire thing would just die. I’m afraid if something newsworthy doesn’t happen soon, I might take matters into my own hands. Literally. I’m going to end up strangling Roger, and then I’ll be the one making the news.

  “Roger,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to say this once, and after I finish, if you bring it up to me again, I will kick your ass.” His eyes grow wide, but he nods. “It was your camera that took the picture. If you had been there instead of me, you would have taken the same shot. The picture’s out. There’s no reeling it back in. You have two options. Deal with the fact that your name is on it, even though you’re not the one who pressed the button to take it, or spill your guts and tell the truth, making both of us look like idiots.”

  “I don’t want you to take any heat from this,” he says. “I’d hate for you to look bad when all you were doing was helping me.”

  “I appreciate that,” I say. “We agree then, that you took the picture and can have all the crap that comes along with it, good and bad?”

  “Yes,” Roger agrees.

  I give him a smile. “Good, now get the hell out of my office. Some of us have deadlines to meet.”

  He stands and gives me a tentative grin. “Thank you. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  Roger’s a good guy, and I’m happy I was able to help. Even if the end result has gotten a bit out of control. “You’re welcome.”

  No sooner is he out the door, Nicole knocks on it.

  “Ms. Tanner,” I say, because only Anna calls her by her first name, and stand. “Please come in.” My office is tiny and barely holds two people. “I would offer you a seat, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything other than my desk chair.”

  Nicole has never ventured into the press section of the West Wing as far as I know. In fact, I rarely see her when she’s not at Anna’s elbow. Between her and David, I’m not sure which one showing up in my space will make the press office gossip more.

  “That’s okay, Mr. Hazar,” she says. “I’ll only take a minute of your time. I don’t need to sit.”

  As odd as it feels, it appears as if this meeting will take place with both of us standing. “Very well,” I say. “What can I help you with?”

  “President Fitzpatrick, along with several private parties, are organizing an awareness and fundraising black-tie event. Its purpose is to benefit nonprofit organizations working to fight childhood cancer. President Fitzpatrick would like for you to be the keynote speaker.”

  It’s a complete one eighty from anything I thought she might be standing in my office for. While it’s not unheard of for me to give speeches, this would be the first one related to a cause I feel strongly for.

  “When is the event scheduled?” I ask.

  She mentions a few months out from now, and then adds, “As long as everything comes through the way it should.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. When has anything ever gone the way it should? Although I have to admit if things were going to line up and fall into place for someone, that someone would probably be Anna.

  “It would be an honor to serve as the keynote,” I say, making a note to let George know so he doesn’t have a conniption fit when he sees me on television.

  “That’s great,” Nicole says. “I’ll go let President Fitzpatrick know.”

  I wonder why Anna didn’t come and ask me herself? “I think I’ll walk with you,” I say to Nicole, who’s already halfway out of my door. “It’s been a few days since I’ve visited the Oval Office.”

  Technically, that’s true. I walk past it occasionally, but only once have I been inside that sacred chamber with Anna. Nicole looks up from whatever she’s jotting down, surprised. She falters for a brief second
before recovering and giving me a hesitant smile.

  “Sure,” she says. “President Fitzpatrick is meeting with the Cabinet, but should finish soon.”

  “I’ll wait outside in the hall,” I say, coming to a stop as we approach the office. She mutters something that might be an acknowledgement, but it’s hard to tell with her nose buried in her phone, no doubt letting Anna know about the surprise waiting outside her office.

  The Cabinet meets not far from where I’m standing. I nod to the Secret Service agent stationed by the office door. He looks over me and, not finding me a threat, continues his watch.

  There’s no telling how long the Cabinet meeting will last, and I’m probably a fool for waiting, but suddenly I have an overwhelming urge to see Anna. I take out my phone and send a text to George letting him know about the benefit. Then I scroll through the latest news, waiting for either George to reply back or for Anna to return.

  Anna has shifted back into subtly ignoring me since our return from the hospital. Not unexpected, but I’ll admit, I’d hoped I’d been wrong. The thing is, I miss her. I miss seeing her fire boiling just underneath the surface. The fire I want to stoke until it spirals out of control.

  I shouldn’t be thinking such things about the POTUS, but I’ve realized since moving to Washington the only other option would be to walk away. Maybe a stronger man could do it, but I did that very thing twelve years ago and I refuse to do so again.

  The agent shifts slightly and at the same time a nearby door opens and Anna walks out followed by her Cabinet members.

  She stops steps before getting to me and speaks to a few of those around her. Within a minute, only the two of us and the agents guarding the door are left.

  “Mr. Hazar,” she says. “Would you like to come in for a minute? I believe I have a few spare ones before Nicole shuffles me off to another meeting.”

  The mask is firmly in place. No emotion present at all. Today she is one hundred percent President Fitzpatrick. I can’t help but wonder if she’s ever without the mask or if it’s been in place for so long, she’s not able to take it off.

  Except when someone gives her flowers or she’s holding a sick child.

  “I promise not to take too much of your time today, Madame President,” I say as we enter the Oval Office and the door closes behind us. I turn to face her. “I really only wanted to come by and thank you face-to-face for asking me to speak at the benefit you’re planning.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says. “But to be honest, I can’t imagine anyone else is better suited to give it.”

  “I appreciate it. It’ll be the first time I’ve spoken on childhood cancer.”

  “Really?” She tilts her head. “I would have thought you’d have done so many times.”

  “No, I never have.” I’m not sure why it’s never occurred to me to do so. Of course, I’ll have to make sure Sunshine is okay with me talking about her. I’m sure she won’t mind, though.

  “I know what,” Anna says, eyes growing large, but then she stops and doesn’t continue with what she knows.

  “Tell me.”

  “I should invite her and your parents, too. It’ll be lovely.” Her eyes are sparkling now, excitement evident. “Nicole and I were discussing where to hold it earlier, and I think we’ll host it here.”

  “The White House? Elevate the status a bit?” I tease, knowing my parents and Sunshine will be beside themselves with an invitation.

  “Something like that.”

  “Whatever you decide, my family will be tickled to be included.”

  “Then that settles it.” She steps to her desk and jots something down on a sticky note. “As soon as we confirm the date, I’ll make sure they’re invited.”

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been inside her office, but I’m sure it’s probably time for her next meeting. “I won’t keep you, Madame President, I know you’re busy. But again, thank you.”

  I turn to leave, and she stops me with one word.

  “Navin.”

  I turn back to her. “Yes?”

  “Why is Roger credited with the picture of Emma and me? You are the one who took it, aren’t you?”

  I wink at her and nod my head. “No, Madame President. That was all Roger.”

  She laughs as was my hope, seeming to understand at least part of why the credit is listed as it is.

  “Very well,” she says, but she’s wearing a little smirk I’ve never seen before and I wonder if it’s because now there’s a secret only the two of us know. Or three of us. I guess I have to include Roger in the count. “Just so you know, my Chief of Staff as well as my personal secretary both questioned my sanity when I asked about that picture. Next time, give me a warning?”

  “Of course, Madame President.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Her

  White House

  Washington DC

  As usual by the time I make it to my private room in the Residence, I’m exhausted, but too tired to sleep. I used to hear that expression and think it was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. Then I experienced it for myself.

  I’m not sure lack of sleep is anything you ever get used to, not completely. Rather, after weeks of staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dark, streaming way too many of the television series you watched as a child, you accept it and learn how to live and function with the little sleep you are able to snag. I don’t recall experiencing insomnia when I practiced law. It wasn’t until I joined Congress and felt responsible for the people I served that I started sleeping less.

  Now, with that responsibility expanded exponentially, it’s not as if I thought it’d get better. Fortunately, I have a few tricks that usually seem to help. Granted, most of them I discovered after learning the hard way which things didn’t help.

  For example, alcohol. Once upon a time, I would have a glass of wine at night to relax and take the edge off a hard day. I ended up feeling more relaxed, but also wide awake. Since that defeated the purpose of why I had a glass in the first place, I looked for something else and what I found was hot tea. Now drinking hot tea relaxes me more than wine ever could have.

  While my tea brews, I slip off my heels, and take off my thigh high sheer hose. Digging my toes into the soft rug I selected is one of life’s little pleasures. Once I’m out of my suit and into something more comfortable, I become Anna. Although tonight, I can’t help but laugh when it occurs to me how the comfortable clothes I only allow myself to wear in the Residence look better than what I wore to class in law school.

  Another thing being President has changed is I used to sleep naked, and once I moved into 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, I had to change that. Though it’s probably only my overactive imagination, I have nightmares of some huge crisis hitting the United States during the four or five hours I sleep, someone bursting into my bedroom to wake me up and finding me naked. They would probably forget what they came to tell me, and the world would end simply because I was naked.

  My reasonable side knows better. I find it hard to believe whoever needed me wouldn’t knock first, and I’m not a light sleeper, so it’s probably ninety nine point nine percent unlikely to happen. But it’s the little zero point zero one percent chance that changes my sleep attire. I can’t take the risk of being responsible for the end of the world, after all.

  Of course, when I said as much to Jaya, she rolled her eyes and called me a prude. “Some of those Secret Security agents are pretty hot. I wouldn’t turn a few of them away if they happened upon me naked.”

  I shake my head now at the thought of her remark. I know she means well, but in her mind, everything is better with sex, and it can cure anything. What can I say? I don’t subscribe to that way of thinking. Unless, we’re talking about sex with Navin, because then, all bets are off. My body grows warm at the very thought. A memory of his touch, the way his fingers ignited the spark of heat between us, ignored for far too long, makes me pulse with need.

  I have to get my mind on something e
lse.

  I sit on my couch with the warm mug cradled between my hands, and my gaze falls on the employment files I still haven’t looked over. I probably need to look at what I wanted so I can give them back to David. Not only that, but reading through them might help me fall asleep. Another tip about insomnia I learned the hard way is not to read anything sounding remotely interesting, or else you risk realizing it’s three-thirty in the morning and you aren’t ready to put the book down.

  Employee records, on the other hand, should be boring enough to knock me right out.

  I spy my neglected e-reader on the end table where it’s been since my first night here. Reading for pleasure simply doesn’t happen anymore. With a sigh, I reach for the employee records. There was one I was particularly interested in, the one with an unfamiliar name. I look through them all, but I’m not able to find it. The only plausible reason being that it was the file David wanted to look at and he decided to take it with him. It makes more sense the longer I think. Maybe that’s why the name wasn’t familiar. Obviously, the person isn’t on my Press Pool. More than likely, their file had been inadvertently placed with the press. Or maybe he or she is a candidate for the next round.

  My fingers brush across the file bearing Navin’s name. I’d been shocked earlier today when Nicole sent the text to inform me he’d walked back with her and was waiting outside my office.

  I know I shouldn’t think of him as anything other than another member of the press. But I’ve been telling myself that for the last few months and it hasn’t done any good yet.

  I sigh and think about the upcoming benefit. I’m truly a bad person for thinking up an event like that for the sole purpose of being around Navin. Especially since half the time, I’m not sure I even liked him all that much.

  But I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I like looking at him. I also know since I’m the President and he’s a reporter, looking is all I’ll ever do.