Page 176 of Drama Queen

“It’s a good speech, Charlotte,” Leonard said gently, when she begged him to read it one more time to check his inflections. “What about your talking points, do you have that all ready?”

She nodded, patting her bag. “I’ve got them on paper and on my tablet. Fitz even hyperlinked them for me, so if I need more detail, I can jump over to the relevant document and get what I need from there. He’s highlighted the most pertinent data I might need, and basically organised this all so that I should be able to answer any and all questions.”

“Good, then get your hustle on, because we’re here,” he told her.

Which was when she noticed the car had indeed stopped. They waited for security to open the door, knowing better than to do it themselves, and then the president exited first, which meant Charlotte got a fantastic look at his arse while he climbed out.

Her owl rose up inside her, urging her to leap forward and claim what was theirs. If she couldn’t bite him with her beak, then Charlotte should do it with her puny human teeth. Puny. Human. Teeth?

Now was not the right time, and by then, Leonard was reaching back into the vehicle to hand her out.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, cognizant of all the eyes watching, and the shifters in the crowd listening. “You are very kind.”

“Of course, Ms Bailey. I could hardly call myself a gentleman and leave you to exit the car unaided.”

Why not? He did it just fine. Still, now was not the time to discuss it. They had a speech to deliver, and questions to answer. They had a war to prevent, and a riot to de-escalate. Everything else would have to wait.

Apparently that included biting his arse, because her owl was most insistent.

Charlotte

“It’s time for change,”the president said for the fifth time during his speech. Once again pausing to look at the audience, allowing his point to sink in. “It’s time to stop the senseless slaughter of innocents. It’s time to end the hate, and the violence. It’s time to find our way forward together. Today’s tragedy was not the first, and I fear it will not be the last, but if we sit here and do nothing, then we condone these two deaths, and every single one that went before them.”

He held the audience in the palm of his hand. This was even better than she’d dreamed of. Even the human president looked impressed.

“It’s time for change,” he said again, this one the final time. “We can achieve so much together, but we have to take that first step. I’m asking you to walk with me, to come on a journey to a better future. The question is, will you come?”

When he said nothing else, the room erupted. Reporters began shouting questions, not waiting to be called on. Humans and shifters alike applauded him, his speech having called for mercy, for justice, for healing, and for reconciliation. They hadn’t railed at the humans, but they hadn’t allowed the incidentto be swept under the carpet either. Hot on the heels of the court ruling earlier this morning, something that would now be forgotten in light of the announcements just made, it was a lot of data to overwhelm the public with.

First, the members of the media who were in attendance would ask their questions. Then everyone would go home and digest what was said. The pundits were already starting to discuss it on the evening news and late shows, but it would be days before a clear response came from the public. They could only hope and pray that their call for patience, for tolerance, and for understanding would lead the way, because the alternative was a steady decline into civil war. Something none of them could afford.

When the fracas didn’t calm for a moment, Charlotte stepped forward beside the president. Seeing her there, he stepped aside, allowing her command of the podium.

“I understand you are distressed,” she said calmly, the voices instantly quieting to hear what she had to say. “We realise you have questions, and we’re here to answer them to the best of our ability, but if you don’t all calm down, then we will be forced to leave. Please, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats again, and we’ll resume.”

Several reporters gave her angry looks, clearly thinking they had the right to speak and be heard over their rivals, but she wasn’t having a bar of it, fixing them all with a steady gaze until there was full compliance.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll take questions from John over there, then Macy, Sheila, and Toby. Then we’ll pick some more of you, so don’t stress. We’re going to cover it all.”

“You’re only picking those who support you,” a strident voice cried out from the side.

She didn’t even need to look to see who it was, she’d recognise David Carlington-Jones’ voice anywhere. How thefuck did he get a pass to come in here? She needed to talk to security, he shouldn’t be allowed within half a mile of the president.

“On the contrary, David. I believe John has slammed shifter policy as much as he has human policy. He’s an equal opportunity sucker-punch when it comes to politics,” she replied, wanting to nip this in the bud. There were several chuckles around the room, everyone knowing she spoke the truth.

“Then why don’t you call on me?” David challenged, not backing down. “Or are you too afraid of the questions I’ll ask?”

“David,” she said, with a calm she didn’t feel, “I do believe we have a procedure established. If you wish to ask questions, then you need to wait your turn. I’m not afraid of what you’re going to ask. I will say, before we get there, once again, that no, Grace Diaz and I are not in a secret, sexual relationship. We are work colleagues, and our relationship is purely a professional one. Now, John, if you’d like to ask your first question?”

“How long have you been in a relationship with the president?” David shouted, before John could even open his mouth.

Charlotte blinked. Camera shutters clattered like the sound of rapid gunfire. While standing, John refused to speak, looking between David and her, and clearly waiting for an answer. David might have been a Dick, jumping the queue, but John was going to honour the question, and from the hungry looks of the other reporters in the room, so were they.

“David, I don’t know what your obsession is with my sex life, or lack thereof,” she ground out. “I also don’t know why you insist that I couldn’t get a job working for The Seat unless I slept my way there. How very nineteen fifties of you to suggest that a woman’s place is in the home, looking after her man, and not trying to keep up with the boys. I can assure you thatmy qualifications in political science and communications more than qualify me for the position I hold as Grace Diaz’s assistant. I am not now, nor have I ever been in a sexual relationship with anyone who works or has worked in The Seat. Now, could we please move past this and let the real reporters ask the questions that really need to be answered.”

“Follow-up,” David cried out, and Charlotte wanted to scream.

“If you’re not in a sexual relationship with the president, then why did he move you from your apartment into the room beside his in The Seat? And how on earth did you go from Grace Diaz’s assistant, to being here in her place?”

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