Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,14

lost on Navin.

As we take our place to dance, he gives me a smirk. “Are you going to let me take the lead this time as well?”

I know he’s talking about dancing, but my mind goes down a dirtier path for a second. My cheeks heat and I’m suddenly very aware of how close he is. We’re an appropriate distance apart so there’s no worry about a picture of the new POTUS grinding against her ball date, and yet the air between us feels dangerous.

“Remember when you told me the entire world was watching?” I ask him.

“Yes.”

“They’re all watching again now, and I’d prefer if you lead while we dance.”

He does so, and we slip into a waltz-like step.

“And here I thought you were all about turning the status quo upside down,” he says. “I’d have thought you to take the lead, to show your strength and power.”

Even though I know he’s deliberately baiting me, there’s so much wrong with those two sentences I have to respond. “Did you listen to anything I said while on campaign? Because I’m not for turning the status quo upside down. I’m for mending what’s broken but working and getting rid of what’s beyond repair or wasn’t working in the first place. And if you think I need a dance to show my strength and power, you don’t know what true strength and power are. Nor do you know anything about me.”

Chapter Nine

Him

GBNC

New York City, New York

Two days after the inauguration, I’m back in New York and Gabe and I are in the studio, ten minutes before airtime. He’s been giving me grief because he thinks I’m holding back on my relationship with Anna. I am, but he won’t hear it from me.

I hadn’t planned to go to the balls after turning Anna down, but in the end, I found myself unable to stay away. When I spotted Jackson valiantly trying to hide his pain, I walked over to talk with him. He confessed how he’d thought there was only one ball, but refused to leave President Fitzpatrick unescorted.

I wasn’t going to make a stupid mistake twice. Speaking low so he was the only one who heard, I told him I’d take over for him, and that the President won’t mind because we’re old school friends. I think that was the first time I told anyone that.

“There has to be more you aren’t telling me,” Gabe says interrupting my thoughts. “There's no way anyone has that much chemistry with a virtual stranger.”

“Navin,” my boss, George, snaps, appearing out of nowhere. “My office.”

I look up at one of the numerous clocks we have. “I’m getting ready to go on,” I tell him as if he doesn’t know. It’s the first excuse I can come up with because nothing good can come from being called into my boss’s office this close to airtime.

“Gabe can handle it,” he barks. “Get in here.”

The newsroom grows eerily quiet. Even Gabe, who never worries about anything has an oh, shit look on his face. On my way to George’s office, I pass Will, a member of our camera crew, who mouths, “What did you do?” I shrug. Damned if I know.

The last time I was called into George’s office was when I’d ripped into a PR spokesman for a pharmaceutical company after they announced a new treatment had been approved for lung cancer. Apparently the pharma executives didn’t care for my assertion that we didn’t need a treatment, we needed a cure. Nor did they appreciate when, after his stuttered reply—of course they were always looking for a cure—I asked him which benefited his company’s bottom line more, treatment or cure? The implication being a cure wasn’t nearly as profitable as treatment.

George had sat me down the next day and handed me a sheet of paper. The only things printed on it were the name of the pharmaceutical company and the amount of money they’d spent on advertising with us the last year. My stomach dropped, and George placed a hand on my shoulder.

“It’s a game,” he’d said. “And there are rules we all play by.”

For a brief moment, I envisioned myself rebelling and becoming the lone defender of truth. The white knight determined to end the deceit and lies with my investigative journalism skills. I’d find out why we hadn’t cured cancer yet.

That moment disappeared with his next words. “You either play by the rules or you don’t play at all. You don’t have to like the rules. You

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