Capitol Promises Page 6

  Jameson placed a firm finger under my chin and guided my face back toward him. His calm, steady demeanor was a balm to my nerves, soothing away the worry and fears.

  “Avon and DeWayne will be here soon. They’re staying in a different hotel.”

  I nodded my understanding. Knowing that Avon would be here calmed me. We were supposed to be together—expected to be together—and no one would think anything different if I stayed semi-permanently attached to her side the entire evening.

  “Don’t ever be afraid to tell me when you’re scared or nervous. I understand how you feel.” I started to doubt Jameson; how could he know how I felt? He was the life of the party. People were drawn to him like a magnet. But his service, his experiences during the war, gave him the same anxiety that now plagued me. He was just better at hiding it and pushing through. He needed to teach me his ways.

  We returned to the other candidates, and I was comfortable enough to join some of the conversations, sharing my own support for candidates who were worried about the outcome of their race.

  When Avon and DeWayne finally arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief. I practically snatched Avon away from her husband.

  “I am so happy to see you,” I exclaimed, embracing her tightly.

  “Thank you, I think,” Avon responded, once I finally let go.

  “Sorry to bombard you like that. Large crowds of unfamiliar people make me nervous. Everyone in this room knows me, but I don’t have a clue who they are.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just thank them for their support because everyone in this room is here for you and Jameson. They believe in everything you’re doing, and they just want the opportunity to finally tell you that.”

  This was the difference between me and Avon. She was a seasoned pro; she knew what to expect at huge events like this and how to handle the thousands of enthusiastic supporters.

  “You might have to remind me of that about a hundred times tonight.”

  We both stood at the edge of the stage, looking out at the huge ballroom swarming with campaign supporters from all over. I heard Avon exhale loudly, and then she said, “But this is much bigger than I’m used to.”

  “At least there’s cake,” I pointed out as a tray filled with dessert passed by us.

  “And booze,” she added.

  While Jameson introduced DeWayne to the crowd of supporters, Avon and I went in search of reinforcements. We followed the dessert cart and snagged a few plates, taking them back to the stage. No way was I going to let an entire ballroom of people watch me scarf cake, so I discreetly took my plate and hid behind some rather large banners.

  “What are you doing back here?” a voice hissed just as I was taking the first bite of chocolate mousse cake into my mouth. Wide-eyed, I turned and came face to face with Jameson.

  “Eating cake,” I admitted with a mouthful of the sweet treat.

  “Why are you hiding?”

  I took another delicious bite and made the effort to swallow it completely before answering him. “Because I don’t want all those people see me eat cake.”

  Jameson rolled his eyes, but before he could say something else, the crowd began to cheer and roar. Something happened. I forgot about my cake and my self-consciousness and followed Jameson out front. The screens were all projecting the same news network, and they were getting ready to announce a series of projections.

  “We can now predict that Senator Jameson Martin will win the states of New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Virginia, and Washington, DC. Ohio is still too close to call. Senator Garcia is predicted to win West Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. We’re awaiting results from Florida and Michigan. Polls will soon be closing in the following states...” I tuned him out because all I could see was the map showing states that Jameson was projected to carry. His lead had grown over Garcia, but the states that would soon close their polls were traditionally Republican states. Garcia would pull even. Florida, Michigan, and Ohio were going to be crucial.

  I pivoted on my heel to face Jameson, who stared up at the screen with amazement. I reached out and took his hand. He looked down briefly at our joined hands before bringing them up to place a kiss on the back of my hand.

  “We’re doing it, little darling. We’re winning.”

  We were whisked off to the convention center to watch the remaining returns there. Jameson’s excitement was palpable. In the back of the car, his knee bobbed constantly, and he checked his phone every ten seconds. We practically sprinted into the giant convention space because more returns were being announced.

  With eager eyes, we watched the announcers deliver a crushing blow: most of the Southern states and their electoral votes would go to Senator Garcia.

  Jameson turned to face me and shrugged. “Wasn’t going to win them anyway.”

  He did pick up Illinois and Indiana and most of the Midwest, which prompted a collective sigh of relief from the entire hall of attendees.

  Then it was back to waiting.

  It was well after midnight when the news networks started to project Jameson as the next President of the United States. We waited together with DeWayne, Avon, Jameson’s parents, and Sean in a suite inside the convention hall. My heels were kicked off and my head leaned against Jameson’s shoulder. I was beyond exhausted.

  Lewis and Jenkins burst through the door almost simultaneously. “We did it!” Their shouts were in unison, and suddenly, we all started to perk up.

  “We. Did. It!” At first, it didn’t register what they were saying. We did it? What exactly did we do?

  “We did it?” Jameson asked drowsily. Then it dawned on him, at the same time it must have finally occurred to everyone else, what exactly we had done. We’d put Jameson in the White House. We’d made his dream come true.

  Overcome with emotion, I burst into tears. The past few months were the longest of my life, and now, it was finally over. I felt Jameson’s arms slide around me as he cradled my shaking body against his. He held me tightly, and when I felt him vibrate beneath me, I realized he was also crying.

  “Oh my God, Georgie.” Jameson gasped to find the words through his own emotion. “We won.”

  I managed to peek up at him and nodded my head. I reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand. “Yes, we did. We won.”

  Outside in the convention hall, confetti and balloons cascaded down onto the waiting crowd. We were expected down there any moment. Reluctantly, Jameson released me, and I swiped away the tears that streamed down my face. We both stood, and immediately, Avon enveloped me in a hug. Jameson engaged in a hearty round of handshakes and pats on the back until he got to his parents. Everyone in the room was crying, but Sam was so overcome when Jameson approached him.

  “I’m so proud of you, son,” Sam choked out. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” Jameson managed to reply.

  I stood back, letting them enjoy their time together. I wondered how my own parents would have reacted to this. What would they think about their only child becoming the next first lady of the United States?

  “Georgie.” Jameson called out to me, shaking me from my thoughts. I looked at him, and he had his arm extended toward me.

  “Let’s go claim our victory,” he whispered, linking our hands and bending down to kiss my cheek. I nodded happily, and then we walked down to the convention hall and the thunderous cheers of everyone there.

  All four of us walked onto the stage holding hands. The confetti and balloons were like a constant stream, falling continuously. I trailed behind Jameson as we made our way from one end of the stage to the next, smiling and waving. He finally approached the podium that was set up to deliver his acceptance speech.

  The way Jameson tamed the crowd with just the wave of a hand was magical. I was envious of his crowd control, and if I ever ended up back in the classroom, Jameson would need to teach me his ways.

  “Thank you so much,” he started. “Th
ank you for this amazing victory! Because of you, we are standing here tonight. I want to congratulate Senator Garcia on the amazing job he did, coming into an election that was nearly complete and giving it everything. I respect him greatly and look forward to working with him in the future.”

  Jameson stepped back from the podium and looked down at the floor. Some might have thought he was just gathering his thoughts, but I saw the tears drip down onto the brown leather of his shoes. I placed my hand on his back and rubbed it in small circles. He stood and looked out over the crowd, his eyes glistening.

  “To be honest, I didn’t think this would happen. I imagined giving a very different speech to you tonight. We haven’t had it easy, and there were moments when I was ready to just give up. But time and time again, I was reminded that you needed me; that our country needed me. So thank you for all your hard work. For believing in me and standing by me.”

  Jameson turned to face me and grabbed my hands. He brought them up to his lips and kissed the knuckles. “This extraordinary woman changed everything for me. I owe her so much, and she’s going to make one hell of a first lady. Thank you, Georgie, for so much more than I can express.

  “America, I promise to be the leader you have deserved for so long, and I promise to serve every single one of you. Thank you, and God bless America!”

  Jameson stepped forward and slid his hands around my waist, bringing me closer. He leaned forward and gently kissed my cheek. The night ended with more waving, more smiling, and more tears. By the time it was all over, I collapsed into the back seat of the limousine.

  “I promise to make all your dreams come true, too, Georgie. You made mine a possibility, and now it’s your turn.” He linked our hands together and kissed them, sealing the solemn vows he just made.

  Jameson

  “Congratulations, Mr. President.”

  Georgie licked her lips seductively, after draining every drop from me, and sat back on her heels, a playful glimmer in her mischievous green eyes. Somehow, we both got a second wind as soon as we arrived home from the convention center. I didn’t want to sleep at the hotel. Win or lose, I wanted to sleep in my own bed after an exhausting election.

  I reached out and ran my hands up and down her curves, resting them on her hips. I tugged, propelling her forward, and she landed on my bare chest with a squeak. I sat up slightly, just enough for my lips to find hers. Wrapping my arms around her tightly, I turned us until Georgie was on her back. I traced a path from her lips down her neck and across her chest. I didn’t stop until I got to the waistband of her panties.

  I looked up, our eyes locking automatically, and I grinned because this was exactly how I wanted to celebrate. Georgie and I just won the craziest election in the history of this country, and we deserved hours upon hours of celebration. We’d already endured a long day, waiting for election returns to come in from precincts across the country. Now, dawn threatened the horizon.

  “Congratulations, First Lady.” I hooked my fingers around the thin lace of her underwear and tugged them from her body. Georgie bared to me made my mouth water instantly with desire. Groaning, I dove in and devoured her. I let myself have this one last taste of victory before it was time to begin the transition. I knew that in the next two months, our lives would be infinitely busier than they were now.

  Georgie squirmed beneath me, a signal that she was close. She pushed herself against my mouth and I greedily accepted her offer, giving her what she wanted. Georgie shook and shuddered to climax, and then her whole body relaxed with a satisfied exhale.

  I trailed light kisses along the inside of her thigh while she recovered.

  “How often will we be able to do that?” Georgie asked breathlessly. Reluctantly, I left my place between her legs to crawl up next to her. I pulled her into my embrace, where she fit perfectly, her head resting just below my chin. “Lie to me if you have to.”

  “I’m the president; we can do this whenever we want.” I hugged her tighter to me because we had to address the truth. “Things will be very busy during the next two months, though. Let’s savor these moments whenever we get them because they might be few and far between.”

  Georgie sighed, and she moved to look up at me. “It will be a very worthy sacrifice.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Enjoy the quiet, little darling, because things are going to get very noisy.”

  “I’m going to ask Elias Garcia to be my Secretary of State,” I announced after only a few hours of sleep. Georgie hummed contentedly in the shower while I finished getting dressed for the day. At any moment, my press secretary would arrive, banging down the door, along with Sean and who knows who else.

  I watched the silhouette of Georgie’s body move against the frosted glass shower doors.

  The door cracked open and Georgie peeked out, her eyes wide with shock. “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “He’s an excellent statesman. Truthfully, I don’t think anyone is more qualified than he is.”

  I also couldn’t stop thinking about the awkward moment we shared after the debate. Did Republicans somehow coerce him into running? It was something that I’d thought about since that night. I couldn’t figure out his angle. Why did it seem like he wanted to be president yet didn’t want to win this election? I planned on discussing my thoughts with him.

  The shower door closed, but Georgie didn’t let the conversation drop. “I think that will shock a lot of people. Garcia isn’t a Democrat. Aren’t you worried about pissing off the base?”

  “I’ve always reached across the aisle to get things done. He’s the best. There isn’t a Democrat who is better.” I’m the president; I can do what the fuck I want, I mentally added.

  “And have you thought about my candidates for Secretary of Education?”

  I silently groaned. I didn’t want to have this conversation. She gave me her dossier on Maxwell Edison, her top pick, before the debate and only recently revealed her “Candidate B”—Lena Taylor, the head of the National Education Association. While Maxwell Edison was extremely qualified, I didn’t like the way she fawned over him like some lovesick teenage girl.

  “Yes,” I replied hesitantly.

  “Are you considering either of them?”

  This was the part of the conversation I wanted to avoid. I heard the water shut off, and like a coward, I walked out of the bathroom before she could set her gaze on me.

  “Jameson.”

  I didn’t make it far enough away. Shit.

  “What?”

  “Are you considering either Edison or Taylor?”

  “No,” I replied with my back still turned toward her.

  “Why not? Aren’t they well-qualified? I took this seriously, Jameson.”

  I cringed. “I know you did, Georgie. I appreciate all the thought you’ve given this. Taylor’s out. I’d take too much heat for choosing the head of the NEA.”

  Lena Taylor, current president of the National Education Association, was too polarizing of a figure. If I didn’t care about bipartisanship and only wanted to pander to my base, then she’d be a good pick. But that’s not who I was as a politician. And it’s not who I wanted to be as

  president.

  “And what about Edison?” I closed my eyes for a brief second and then sat down on the edge of the bed. I looked up at Georgie, who stood defensively in the doorway with a towel wrapped around her body, indignation written all over her face.

  I had a feeling Max Edison was going to be a sticking point. He was the Secretary of Education for California and had radically transformed their public education system. He was also young for someone in that position. And handsome. The caveman in me growled with possessiveness. I didn’t want what was mine anywhere near him.

  “Edison is a good pick, but…” I trailed off. I didn’t really have a good reason.

  “But what? Edison is a true reformer. He did the impossible, and now, you have the opportunity to let him do that on a much grander scale. This is what edu
cation needs, Jameson.”

  God, I hated it when she got all passionate on me. She was irresistible when she became so fervent, and it didn’t help that she was currently staring at me wearing next to nothing. “Fine,” I conceded. “We’ll start vetting him. But one skeleton, and he’s done.”

  “Thank you, Jameson.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, put on some goddamn clothes, or we’ll never make it to all the press conferences and shit scheduled for today.”

  Georgie

  I was going to be the first lady. I was going to be the first lady. Me. Was America nuts? I mean, Jameson was going to make the perfect president, but suddenly, I didn’t feel worthy of my new title. America, though, didn’t seem to care that I was entering into an arranged marriage. I worried that they voted only for the sensational storyline and not the qualifications. Jameson often struggled with this, and I finally understood why he shut me out. He wanted to be elected based on his qualifications. Our relationship distracted from that, and when Russell Hunt outed us, the same thing happened again. Now I shared the same concerns as Jameson. Why had the American people elected us?

  “I need doughnuts,” I blurted out, when all my thoughts started to consume me.

  “What?” Jameson asked.

  “If I’m going to make it through today, I need doughnuts.” The security agent in the front seat started talking into his sleeve, giving instructions to pull into the next Dunkin Donuts.

  With a box of fresh doughnuts and a large, iced dark roast with the appropriate amounts of cream and sugar, I felt more confident. Or at least, the sugar high gave me a false sense of security.

  Our first stop was the campaign headquarters where Jameson would give a press conference. Elias Garcia was quick to make his concession call shortly after Jameson was projected the winner, so today’s speech was all about thanking the campaign staff, volunteers, and voters. I know because I wrote it.