Page 23 of Presidential Bargain
“Promise to make me a part of the campaign. Promise me I’m more than just a campaigngimmick.”
Confusion clouded his face. “What doyoumean?”
“I don’t just want to smile and wave, Jameson! Give me something to do. I can help with communications—emails, memos, speeches. Let me be more than what Ialreadyam.”
“Okay. I promise.” He nodded and I felt my whole bodyrelax.
Jameson’s large, warm hand slid around my body and he pulled me flush against his body. He looked down at me with a hard, smoldering gaze. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited for him to make hisnextmove.
“I’m not going to promise you anything else, Georgie, because the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But I think there’s something between us. I’m not going to push it because I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m not going to fight it either because I’m still a man. Every wall I put up, I will tear down to eventually gettoyou.”
For the next few days,Georgie and I worked together to define these new parameters in our relationship. She went with me to community centers, town halls, and union halls during the day, giving her short speech about how I was ‘the one’, which my speech writers polished up just a bit, and at night, she accompanied me to fundraising events. When we had a free moment, she was learning from the communications director of mycampaign.
Behind the scenes, my campaign was tense. I had people working around the clock to find out who Russell Atlee was, what he knew, who he worked for, and who might have leaked any information. We watched the news like hawks, keeping well-trained eyes on any story about Georgie. We made sure to keep our friends in the media close and to constantly bug them for information. In the weeks that followed since Georgie’s, for lack of a better word, attack, Russell Atlee had not made one move. It was possible that he was bluffing, but my gut told meotherwise.
With three weeks until the first debate, Georgie and I were eager to finally leave New York City and begin touring the country. She slept with me every night in the back of the campaign bus and every night, my fucking heart broke over and over as she whimpered and twitched in her sleep. I felt guilty knowing that having her in my bed was the reason why I now slept comfortably. I hadn’t had a single nightmare inweeks.
I was still on edge, though, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I constantly worried about when Russell Atlee would strike. And when I wasn’t thinking about Russell Atlee, I was thinking about Georgie. Every day, I wanted more and more of her, but I stopped myself from taking. That’s not to say I didn’t steal on occasion. I took advantage of every kiss she gave me at events. I found little ways to show her affection, to communicate my desire. Small brushes along the back of her neck, a hand on the small of her back, holding her hand walking in and out of events. There was still a tension between us because I knew that she too was worried about RussellAtlee.
“Can we please stop here?” Georgie was looking out of the window at something, her face filled with excitement. We were stopped in Myrtle Beach with ten days left before we headed to Boston for the firstdebate.
“Where?” I asked, moving to sit next to her. I looked out the window and saw what appeared to be a ’50s style diner. It was all chrome, neon lights, and glass, and advertised ‘the world’s bestmilkshakes’.
“Are you serious?” Iasked.
George turned to me. Her expression told me she was indeed serious about stopping at this place. “Jameson, I take milkshakes very seriously. If this place claims to have the best milkshakes in the entire world, then I need toinspect.”
I laughed and placed a light kiss on her nose. “Fine,we’llstop.”
Georgie and I, as well as a small team of my aides and security, entered the throwback diner. It was clear the patrons favored my opponent, but I didn’t mind being in enemy territory. In fact, with Georgie by my side, I marched proudlyintoit.
The hostess seemed quite overwhelmed by the sheer size of our party and scrambled to quickly accommodate us. Georgie and I sat in a booth by ourselves and she excitedly ordered a chocolate milkshake, her green eyes sparkling withpleasure.
Behind Georgie, I noticed Sean gathered with Lewis, Jenkins, and a few members of the security team. That was not a good sign. Georgie couldn’t see them because her back faced the small group of men, and if Russell Atlee had finally made good on his promise to release those photographs, then it was for the best. I didn’t want to excuse myself unless absolutely necessary because I didn’t want to overreact. If one of them made eye contact, then I would go. Until then, I remained focused on the woman in front of me, who was now greedily sucking down a chocolate milkshake. I adjusted myself, tantalized by the way her mouth wrapped around the bright redstraw.
“Do you think they’d let me?” I hadn’t realized Georgie was talking because I was so enamored by her lips doing otherthings.
“Let youdowhat?”
“Learn how to make one of these milkshakes. This is seriously the best milkshake I’ve ever had. We need these in the White House.” Her exuberance made melaugh.
“We can ask.” I stopped the server as she passed and inquired about whether or not Georgie would be able to sneak back behind the old-fashioned counter and learn how to operate the milkshake machine. The server looked confused but said she’d ask the manager. Within a few minutes, Georgie was happily distracted behind the counter. And I could find out what washappening.
The group was still gathered in the corner of the restaurant and now they were all staring at me as I made my way over. Their expressions told me I was not about to heargoodnews.
“Tell me,” I commanded, my voice low because I didn’t want Georgie to think anything was wrong should she lookthisway.
“Our contact at theTimessaid they received some photographs of Georgie.” Lewis looked like he was about topassout.
“And?” I wanted to know what theTimeswas going to do with the images, and if any more news outlets had received thephotographs.
“They have no plans to run the photographs. But…” I swear, Lewis was going to be sick. He looked green and was sweatingheavily.
“Someone’s already run them,haven’tthey?”
Lewis nodded and then exhaled; his hot, heavy breath blew acrossmyface.
“Who?”
