The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,14

we had fourteen color coded rules to show for it. I had contributed very little to the whole affair.

“Rule Nine: Thou shall not put bad vibes into the universe,” Hailey says, tapping the paper loudly. “Listen, I’m not trying to, like, slut-shame, but you’re putting some sleazy vibes out there right now. Are you and the President even a thing? Is this just all some crazy California girl scheme to make it into the news?”

My jaw nearly falls to the floor. “Sleazy? Hailey, I didn’t-”

Beep beep. Beep beep.

I scramble for my phone. Mr Andrews could be calling. Somebody could be calling that knows a way out of this situation. A way to fix this messed-up disaster.

My heart drops dramatically as I read the caller ID. Dad.

Oh my god. Dad.

What must he think?

“Hailey,” I say, standing up. “I’m going to my room. We’ll have to go over this later.”

She sniffs indignantly. “My pilates class-”

“Use the back entrance,” I snap. “I’ll see you later.”

So, not the best start to our relationship as roomies. But now I have more pressing matters to deal with. I escape to my bedroom before she can yell at me any louder and collapse onto my bed, hair fanned out across the pillows.

Slowly, hesitantly, I hit ‘accept’ on my iPhone and raise the device to my ear.

“Dad,” I breathe softly. “Hi.”

“Sweetie,” he says, his soft voice a welcome relief after the sound of Hailey’s screeching. “I think we have some talking to do.”

Instantly, I feel a million times better. Somebody who actually wanted to talk. Calmly and rationally, instead of just hurling insults at me and accusing me of something terrible.

“It’s not what you think, Dad,” I explain. “The President-”

“Funny,” he interrupts. “I thought it might all be some scheme by the press to make a quick few bucks profiting off a man who’s trying to make a change in the world.”

I could almost cry in happiness. (Okay, maybe I do a little bit. But only a few tears.)

“The photograph was an accident,” I explain. “We both ended up tripping over, which is how we got into such an awkward position.”

“It’s awkward, all right,” he agrees. “I turned on the TV a little while ago. I was pretty shocked to see cameras following my daughter home.”

I take a peek out of my bedroom window. If anything, now there are even more reporters lurking out there. Quickly, I pull the blinds fully shut and make sure the window is locked.

“It’s gonna be tough for you,” he continues. “The White House. Have they…?”

“They haven’t fired me,” I finish for him, so he doesn’t have to ask the rest of such an indelicate question. “For now, at least.”

“So you still have your job,” he says, sounding relieved. “Well, I suppose you’re just going to have to weather this one out.”

I shudder. “What if I can’t, Dad? This is… this is crazy.”

“I know, sweetheart. I wish I could give you better advice, but it’s not often that your daughter ends up implicated in a nation-wide scandal concerning the President.” He chuckles, even if it’s somewhat hollow. Dad is usually delighted by his own bad jokes. He must be worried. “If your mother was here, she’d know what to do. She always was miles better than me in these kinds of… situations.”

“Even mom would have struggled with this one,” I say, laughing. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything but despair all afternoon.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” I can tell he’s smiling through the phone. “But Veronica…”

“Dad?”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.” He stalls. “But there’s someone you need to talk to.”

I know exactly who he means immediately.

Trevor.

Oh god. Trevor.

“Is he…” My throat is tight. “Have you seen him this afternoon?”

“He left work early, before I’d heard the news. Probably around 4:00PM. Veronica, he didn’t look happy.”

Guilt pools in my stomach. I haven’t done anything wrong… but I can only imagine how Trevor must be feeling right now. It can’t be pretty.

“Dad, I should-”

He interjects. “You go, sweetheart. Tell Trevor what you need to.”

“Thank you.”

I hang up quickly and flip through my contacts. Trevor. His phone rings and rings, but… no answer.

Damn it. I’m not sure if he’s just ignoring me or if he’s genuinely busy, but this doesn’t bode well. I try two or three more times just in case. There’s no response.

Frustrated, I pull up Twitter on my phone. I’m not a big social media type of girl. That type of thing always just seems to be a waste of time.