Black President Page 6

  “It will be. Very soon.”

  Andrew called it a night, and I intended to do the same after I went into my office and watched Chanel on the news. As expected, she and a few other reporters talked and laughed about Raynetta’s fur coat.

  “She looked ridiculous,” one female reporter said. “I also thought that she came across rather snide in the interview too. No first lady should acknowledge her sexiness, and there is something about her that I really don’t like.”

  A black reporter let her have it. “I wonder if Sally would be saying the same thing if the first lady was a white woman? Forget about the fur coat. What is it about her that you don’t like, and you have never had the pleasure of meeting her before?”

  “Seeing her is enough for me—”

  From the look on the reporter’s face, I could sense that a feud was about to begin.

  “Seeing her? Really? I get it. She’s too black for you, right? You wouldn’t—”

  Chanel interrupted. “Okay, ladies, I have to move on. I want to show some clips from the interview. Then you all can tell me your thoughts.”

  The clips played, causing Sally and a few others to shake their heads.

  “First, let me say that I think you did a magnificent job,” one redheaded male reporter said to Chanel. “This is not the kind of man you can easily converse with, and being around him can be very intimidating. But you handled yourself well. I thought that his strongpoints were on foreign policy, and his weak points were when he started rambling about how well he intends to work with Congress. We’ve heard it all before, and I think he’s in for a rude awakening. At some point, he started to sound very naïve.”

  Chanel nodded, then turned to another reporter who appeared hyped to weigh in. “What was your take on the interview, Claire? What were the high and low points to you?”

  “I didn’t have any low points at all, and we need to stop speaking about the president like he’s the scary black man in the room. This president comes across as strong, powerful, and he definitely has a lot of tenacity. I do think you’re going to see some changes on Capitol Hill, and I believe that he’s going to force a lot of people to take a look at themselves and finally get some things done. The first lady is very likable, and even on the campaign trail, many women connected with her. It was a joy to watch the entire interview, and when you asked about him being named as one of the sexiest men alive, I was tickled pink by both of their answers.”

  Chanel laughed. “I’m sure that you and many other people were. As for me, I had highs and lows. I think President Jefferson really wants to get things done, but a part of me is concerned about his tone. It can be a bit brash at times, and his temperament may wind up being too much for the American people. I didn’t welcome the idea of him trying to tell me how to do my job, and he made the same mistake with the media earlier that day. On a positive note, I admire him a lot. I want to give a huge shout-out to him, and to the first lady, for reaching out to me—yes, little ole me, for an exclusive interview.”

  She winked at the TV, causing everyone to laugh. I closed my laptop, giving thought to what Chanel had said, but sticking to my guns that would, eventually, rock the White House like they had never seen it been done before.

  5

  First Lady Raynetta Jefferson

  Sometimes, many people failed to give first ladies the credit we deserved. They thought that we often sat around twiddling our thumbs, baking cakes and cookies, tending to kids, and putting up with our husband’s shit. The truth was, it took a very strong woman to be in this position. One who knew when to speak and when not to. One who played by her own rules instead of the rules that were already prepared for her. One who let no one tear her family apart, even when she knew that things on the home front weren’t always perfect. And one who didn’t need her husband’s arms around her every single night to make her feel loved and safe. The bedroom was often lonely and cold, but only a superstrong woman could survive this and endure the madness that transpired in this place for many years.

  The good thing about being a first lady was, unbeknownst to many, we knew more about this little White House than some of the senior staff members who worked here did. As hostess, we kept tabs on visitors, luncheons, events . . . all of that good stuff that kept us busy from day to day. Therefore, I didn’t have to ask Stephen why Chanel was in his office last night. I also knew that her visit was cut short and interrupted by his mother. A smart woman knows these things, and we understood that millions of women loved men in power, especially sexy ones like my husband who could charm the panties off women just by looking at them. That’s what he’d done to Chanel. I could see her melting in the chair during the interview. He broke her down, minute by minute. She wanted him; he wanted her. I was well aware of that, and when it came to my marriage, there were often very little surprises. Little surprises, but big secrets, especially on my behalf, pertaining to lies I’d told him about my inability to have a child. I knew it was wrong, but I felt as if this was payback for him not giving our marriage his all.

  Displaying my attitude toward him this morning was enough. I gave him a tiny hint that I knew how desperate he was to lay that bitch, Chanel, on her back. He could lay her down wherever he wished—in a filthy alley for all I cared. The only time we would ever have a problem was if a baby popped up. That would send me over the edge and cause me to do things that no first lady should ever do. Now, while I was strong, I still was human. I cried when I had to, got angry when I felt it was necessary, and even threw tantrums when I really wanted to get my husband’s attention. I even threatened him from time to time, but when all was said and done, I realized that this was the life I’d chosen, and if I ever wanted to walk, I could simply do it.

  My schedule was loaded with fun, as well as interesting things to do today. But around six o’clock that evening, I had some important, personal business to tend to. I sneaked away from Secret Service, who were slacking anyway, and had my personal driver take me to an address I had written on a card. Within the hour, he parked inside of a parking garage where plenty more cars were parked too. I was escorted upstairs by him, and he observed our surroundings, making sure the coast was clear. After he knocked on the door, we waited. Moments later, a woman with short, layered hair answered. Her swollen eyes implied that she’d been crying, and her brown skin looked kind of dry. She wore a long silky robe with leopard prints all over it. Her feet were bare, and she seemed a bit nervous as she looked at me.

  “Vera Walton?” I said, making sure I was at the right place.

  “Yes.” She widened the door. “Please come in.”

  I told my driver that I wouldn’t be long, but he insisted that he wait outside the door for me. I certainly didn’t mind that, especially since I didn’t know what kind of foolishness I would walk into when Vera reached out to my assistant last week, telling her that it was imperative that we spoke. After three more phone calls, I decided to return her call. She informed me that she needed to speak to me about Stephen, so there I was, in the flesh, eager to hear what she had to say.

  “Thank you for coming,” Vera said as she stood by the door next to me. “I honestly didn’t think you would come, but I want you to know how very important this is. So important, that you may need to have a seat.”

  I looked around at the cozy little apartment that needed an interior decorator to add a touch or two to it. The loud colors didn’t blend well together, and the sectional was too big for the small space in the living room. Bookshelves were to the right, and a dining room set for two people was to the right. I hoped that Stephen hadn’t spent much time here, and if he had, what a shame.

  I wiped a little fuzz from the couch before taking a seat. “There. You now have my attention, so please tell me why you asked me to come here.”

  Vera took a seat as well. She crossed her legs, then released a deep breath. “Several months ago, I started having an affair with your husband. I was introduced to him by the mayor, who presented me with an
award. I never expected for things to go as far as they did, nor did I expect to experience these deep feelings that I have for him. Everything was fine, until he was elected president. He stopped calling me, stopped responding to my text messages, and I haven’t heard from him since. His phone number was recently disconnected, but even before that, I decided to reach out to you. I wanted to put this behind me and forget about him, but I can’t. The reason why is because I’m pregnant. Pregnant with his child, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  I gazed at the teary-eyed woman with little sympathy. She hadn’t shocked me not one bit, and as I had said before, I was prepared for little games like this.

  “First, let me say that I am so sorry that my husband is ignoring you and stressing you like this. He has a tendency to leave women’s lives in shambles, but the baby thingy has really shaken me up. I don’t know how you came to the conclusion that the child you may be carrying is his, especially when you’ve had at least four or five different sex partners this year. Just so you know, I’ve done my research, and I’ve discovered some very troubling things about you. You didn’t think I would come here without investigating you, did you, and what I found out isn’t exactly pretty.”

  She shifted in her seat and started to fidget with her hands. Could barely make eye contact with me, but made an attempt to enlighten me with her so-called truth.

  “I don’t know what you discovered about me, but I have only been with your husband this year. I have a very good reputation, and you can ask anyone who knows me what kind of person I am.”

  “I did ask, and like I said, the information I received was troubling. If you say that the only man you’ve been with this year is Stephen, I can only tell you that I don’t believe you. I can, and will, start naming names, if you push me to do it.”

  She wasn’t backing down and insisted that Stephen had been her only lover.

  “That’s a lie, and you know it,” I said. “Greg Collins can back me up, Richard Nelson can, Benji Lewis, Byron Foster, and Marshall Alexander. I don’t know if they wore condoms like my husband did when he screwed you, but I do know, for sure, that if you are pregnant, that child is not his.”

  With bugged eyes, Vera remained silent. I waited for a response, but the truth was, she didn’t need to say anything else. She had wasted my time. Thought she was on to something, but the only person she was about to embarrass was herself.

  “As you sit there in deep thought,” I said, “keep in mind that if you speak to anyone about this nonsense, or decide to go public, you will only hurt yourself. You’ve been awfully busy behind closed doors, and I don’t think that you really want a woman like me to open those doors and allow the world to see what actually goes on inside.”

  Anger crept on her face—I must have finally touched a nerve. “You can do or say whatever you wish, but trust me when I say, Stephen will hurt behind this too. My insides still drip with the substantial amount of semen he put inside of me, and I don’t care how much you try to deny it . . . This baby growing inside of me belongs to him.”

  Deciding not to waste any more time with this, I stood and tucked my purse underneath my arm.

  “If your insides still drip with my husband’s semen in you, then I recommend that you take a long, hot bath. Your medical records revealed to me that there is no baby, and not even a bootleg doctor can help you make this story true. You should have planned this out more carefully, Vera. Have a pleasant evening, and all the best to you.”

  Vera sat like a quiet mouse as I exited her apartment. My driver was still at the door waiting for me, and the second I returned home, I marched to the Oval Office to find Stephen. Secret Service was at the door, but the agent allowed me to go right in. I saw Stephen sitting behind the desk with several papers scattered in front of him. A piece of paper was in his hand, along with a notebook that was ruffled around the edges. He looked well rested, as if he had gotten twelve hours of sleep, even though I knew he’d gotten less than three or four.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to make you aware of a small problem that I managed to work out for you. Feel free to thank me later, but in the meantime, since you decided to ignore Miss Vera Walton, she decided to reach out to me. She informed me tonight that she was with child, but before I paid her a visit, I asked a certain someone from your administration to dig up a little information for me. To make a long story short, Miss Teacher of the Year is a whore. She was about to shut you down and embarrass the hell out of both of us. That’s no longer going to happen, and you can take a deep breath because she never was really pregnant. In closing this conversation, you, Mr. President, are a piece of work. I don’t have time to watch your back, especially when I need to watch mine.”

  I stood, waiting for a response. But all Stephen did was stare at me while leaning slightly to the side in his chair.

  “Do you have anything at all to say to me?” I said. “Or are you going to just sit there like you didn’t hear a thing I said?”

  “Thank you,” he said, then lifted the paper to read it again.

  I reached out, snatching the paper from his hand. “Thanks? Is that all I get—a lousy, insincere thanks?”

  He held his hands out, appearing very nonchalant. “What else do you want me to say? You leave me speechless, as you did with the fur coat incident, but I’m not going to entertain your nonsense. Pertaining to Vera, had you told me she called you, I would’ve handled things myself. I would have told you she couldn’t have been pregnant because I wore a condom and didn’t even come. I would’ve told you that she was not going to be a problem for either of us, because with a rap sheet like hers, she wouldn’t dare put herself in the spotlight. But thanks again, baby, for always doing what you do best, which is jumping to conclusions without having all of the facts.”

  I was totally put off by this . . . this . . . I didn’t know what to call him right now, but since my kind words didn’t seem to have an effect, I had to simplify them for him. I moved in closer to his desk and bent over so I could be face-to-face with him, showing my gritted teeth.

  “The fact is, you slut-bucket-ass Negro, you shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Now, I’m going to say this one time and one time only—hopefully, you’ll be able to step into the light and comprehend. You hold one of the highest positions in the world. It is going to require you to be focused, sharp minded, alert, and on your knees, praying for direction every single day. The second you slip up, the white man is going to be watching so he can kick your dumb ass out of that chair and replace it with his. This is the big leagues, sweetheart, and simple-minded niggas don’t belong here. Every—”

  Stephen shot up from his chair like a rocket. “I don’t have to listen—”

  “Yes, you do! Now, sit your ass down and shut the hell up until I’m finished!”

  He didn’t sit, but folded his arms in front of him with a mean mug on his face, allowing me to continue.

  “Unfortunately, if you do not change course and get a grip on yourself, just like all of the other black men who go up and come down because of the almighty free pussy, you will regret it. I encourage you to get your mind right and stop screwing around with these gimmie-what-you-want-for-a-pork-chop hoes. And by all means, if you must cheat on me, please up your standards. But keep in mind that if, or when, you lose it all, I will be the one to gain the most from your misfortune.”

  Having nothing else to say, I marched toward the door, hoping that my friendly advice to the president would, eventually, sink in.

  6

  President of the United States, Stephen C. Jefferson

  It seemed like the days were getter shorter, due to my lack of sleep. There was too much to get done in one day, and if I slept for eight hours, I felt like I was missing something. I’d thought about what Raynetta had said, but most of it went in one ear . . . and out the other. All she ever wanted to do was argue, and who in the hell did she think she was, talking to me like that? It totally angered me, and if
she thought that was the best way to get my attention, she was sadly mistaken. Hell, I knew she wasn’t happy, but at this point in our marriage, there wasn’t much that I could do to make her thrilled about anything. Well, maybe one thing, but she already knew that adopting was out of the question.

  Doing the norm, I prayed, exercised, showered, got suited up, and prepared myself for the day ahead of me. Tyler was back, and by seven o’clock, he was in my office, speaking on the issue that had occurred with the Secret Service.

  “Ben and Paul reached out to me about what had happened,” he said, sitting with his legs crossed while on the sofa. “They want their jobs back, but that’ll be up to you. I told them the least they could do was come here and apologize to you this morning.”

  “Apologize?” I said, sitting across from him. “I don’t need an apology. One of these days, I could be dead in my grave because of those two. Will they be able to apologize to me then?”

  “No, they won’t be able to, but they are two of the best agents that we have. They’ve been here for years and have done a great job protecting other presidents.”

  “Maybe some, but surely not all. I don’t like to give second chances, especially when it comes to playing with my life. The truth is, no one should be able to enter the White House and come straight through those doors over there without being stopped. It makes no sense that my mother was able to do it without one hand being laid on her. While she has clearance to come here, she doesn’t have clearance to enter this room without approval.”

  There was a knock on the door, and when Tyler yelled “come in,” Ben and Paul entered.

  “Good morning, Mr. President and VP McNeil,” Ben said, suited up as if he still had a job. Dark shades covered his eyes, but he removed them. Paul said good morning as well, and they both stood to the left of me, offering their sincere apologies.