Author's Note: I am rewriting and retooling the established story, Always on the Run, with some additional ideas. For those who've followed the Suzanne M. Gibbs character, I thought it would be interesting to add some dimension, some background to her past into her supposed present. This segment is about conflict in the workplace with an antagonistic character, Jane Hamilton. How would someone like Suzanne deal with an individual? The following is a mixture of some humor, some previously published ideas and maybe more insight into Suzanne's past?
Also: Sophisticated Lady by Natalie Cole. I always credit the song and songwriter for inspiring a scene and idea. No intention of plagiarism/credit. Suzanne McNamara Gibbs: MY character.
Rule 22
"Because the way you are, Troop, sometimes, you'll have to suit up and play 60 minutes of old school, shut them up defense."—Solomon D. McNamara Sr.
He possessed a unique approach for giving lifelong advice to his only daughter, his youngest child, Suzanne, the one he called "Troop." Why 'Troop?' Maybe, it was to distinguish Susan, his wife, from Susie or Suzanne, his daughter. During a Sunday afternoon football game, beer in hand, homemade nachos on the table and groaning as his team quarterback, yet again, threw a perfect spiral midfield, only to be intercepted by the opposing team.
Damn!" He turned down the sound.
"Any given Sunday, Solly…" Susan McNamara chimed from the kitchen.
Suzanne was inside, putting away the groceries.
"That's how you blow a perfectly planned offensive, Sue."
"Troop! Come here!"
Solomon motioned for her to join him on the sofa and watch the instant replay.
"Look at it! Beautiful pass…and bam! Double coverage on the receiver, picked off!"
He turned to his 26 year old daughter, a second year law school student at Georgetown University who came home for a weekend visit.
"Daddy, our defense can make them go three and out…" Suzanne had extensive knowledge of the game.
He chuckled. "Always, the optimist, believing 'til the last minute…" Solomon and Susan McNamara were generally pleased with their adult child—honest, generally happy, impeccable manners, modest and respectful. His latest concern: 'Troop' was too nice, took too much disappointments in stride. He and Susan wanted to see, wanted other to notice Suzanne just as competitive and driven, not to mention equally or above intelligent.
"Suzanne…?"
"Sir?" She answered. It was rare that her dad addressed her by the first name.
"Your mom and I are concerned about how you are okay with losing that internship on the DC Court…"
"There'll be others." Suzanne replied.
"Clerking for the Federal Court…" Susan began. "Is a good step."
"Sometimes, you're going to have to be mean, give people a jab in the ribs for a 'remember me' opportunity. You need to play dirty when necessary." Susan advised. Suzanne rolled her eyes slightly.
"I know you don't like it…"
"It's not the end of the world. I'm in the top 10 at Georgetown…"
"Suzanne, don't let anyone or anything push you around." Solomon said, smiled with a father's pride. "Look at you: you're not only beautiful, you're also smart. Double threat." Suzanne chuckled softly.
"Yes, Sir; Yes, ma'am." She smiled.
It seemed only yesterday since the conversation. It was four years, and a lot happened. Daddy died. She and Mom had a huge argument, severing ties for almost two years, and she married. Suzanne was now Mrs. Gibbs and her challenges were at the White House.
"Are we adults or children, for God's sake?"
The latest workplace rival, Jane Hamilton, fit the criteria for all battles. For the veteran employee, her problem with the 30 year old was culture—or lack of political expertise, she openly teased the newly hired Suzanne. She was not a Washingtonian Politician. The Press Office was often divided into camps, or cliques. Since Suzanne's arrival, the tension gained additional momentum. Either employees openly sided with Camp Gibbs or Jane's Army. No sense for it, Suzanne said over and over.
"Good Morning, Ms. Jane." Suzanne spoke to everyone each morning, always greeted each person with a genuine smile and handshake. Good-natured Southern manners did little to quell Jane's defensive mood. She even invited her for lunch.
"Exactly what's your game, Suzanne Gibbs?"
"None." Suzanne answered while distributing paperwork. "I wondered if you wanted to join me for lunch this afternoon, because we need to discuss the Europe junket."
"The newbie asked me out to lunch! Isn't that adorable?" Jane snickered. Others in the office space, mostly males, shook their heads in disagreement. "No, thank you."
Some inside the office, the young, unmarried women, were members of Jane's entourage, who laughed openly. One even questioned if Suzanne Gibbs was 'for real.'
"She only got hired because of Sec-Nav…" One commented.
"I thought it was her rack…" The second said, visually inspecting her. "I wonder if they're real…"
Suzanne's eyes widen in surprise. She chuckled at the thought—you're talking about me and I'm standing here?
"Oh, they're real…" Suzanne replied. She adjusted her scarf. Slowly, she unbuttoned one, then another from her blouse, showing a slither of cleavage.
"Of course, if you would like to see up close and personal…"
Some observers in the office chuckled.
The two Jane supporters left in a hurry.
"Tell your surgeons what they should look like!"
Jane grabbed her belongings from her desk, with Suzanne, still standing in front of her desk.
"Inform your fan club that I am a show 'em type of person."
"You'll never fit into this world, Gibbs." She whispered. "Stand aside and watch the grown-ups handle it."
"Good to see you too, Ms. Jane." Suzanne gathered the documents. "Please tell everyone I said hello…" Another reason for a Suzanne-Jane rivalry: traditions. Suzanne McNamara Gibbs never deviated from her military and religious upbringing.
"My parents said to kill 'em with kindness…" Suzanne shared with Linda, her mouth filled a piece of apple. She chewed thoroughly before continuing the next thought. "I might have to place a stake through her heart."
Suzanne was uncertain where Claudia Bailey's allegiances were office wise until that afternoon. Often, she noticed her with Jane in a conversation. More than once, the two shared a chuckle or a whisper. It surprised both Suzanne and Linda when Claudia ate in the conference area.
"Thought you were with your BFF—Jane." Suzanne said.
"Please!" Claudia sucked her teeth in disgust, pulling her yogurt and fruit from her lunch bag. "She's just part of the pay grade."
Linda chuckled.
"Of course! Who can go to 5-star restaurants for lunchtime?"
"I'm assigned to her as a liaison to the Press Corps for EOP." Claudia reminded, combining the fruit with the yogurt and shaking vigorously. "Thank God I don't have to travel with her."
"When I travel, I travel with Lewis." Linda answered.
"Who travels with her?" Suzanne asked.
She knew the answer once Claudia and Linda simultaneously picked up their newspapers.
"Oh, God, no! I'd rather sleep with the President's dog!"
"He's not going." Claudia answered.
"I can arrange for Rufus…."
"Suzanne, all I can say is get ready for Europe." Linda suggested.
"I'm leaving next week for Europe." Suzanne called her mother. It was the weekly phone call, just as she promised in Williamsburg the month before. So far, Suzanne called Susan four times in three weeks. The current call was advice-seeking. Jethro Gibbs was a wonderful husband but said several times to his new wife that he would not get involved with her work situations. "Don't ask me."
"Southern and Eastern Europe…" Suzanne continued on the landline cordless phone. "Can't…national security, Mom…"
Jethro chuckled.
"If I can, I will…." Suzanne paused, merely listened. "Yes, ma'am…" Suzanne reiterated the environment and the scenarios from the workplace.
"Mom, what do you think about it?"
"Like your daddy said, it's time to play shut-'em up defense.'"
"I thought you didn't know anything about football."
"Girl, please! I know the fundamental rule of the game: be prepared for anything." Susan answered. "I didn't learn the intricacies of the game like you did."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Suzanne, long as you have a game plan…you'll be fine." Susan assured her daughter.
"Thanks for talking with me, Mom."
"Suzanne? Make sure you carry an extra pair of dress shoes, pantyhose, underwear and a slip in your carry-on bag, not your go-bag." Susan suggested. She never gave Suzanne advice on packing, knowing fully well she was well experienced in the department.
"Promise me you'll do that."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Suzanne: you're going to need them."
The Last Laugh
The President was scheduled for two weeks in Western Europe. The first leg of their tour they spent in Scandinavia.
The room assignments were given during the flight. Thankfully, Suzanne learned she had a single suite between the President and Dash. It made sense, being the President's exercise partner and scheduler. Wonderful! It meant her interactions with Jane Hamilton were limited. The President and Suzanne sat together, going through the itinerary line by line. As the plane landed in London, it was brought to their attention that luggage was missing.
"Mrs. Gibbs? Did you have a suit bag?"
"It was with President Owens' suit bag." She answered. "It looks exactly like the President's, except mine has 'S. Gibbs' embroidered on the front and a Georgetown logo."
"What do you mean, you can't find Mrs. Gibbs' bag?" The President was obviously upset. Suzanne remained calm. "We have a Press junket in three hours…" He glanced at Suzanne's casual dress—jeans, sneakers, denim jacket. "Find it, ASAP!"
As the corps settled into their suites, Suzanne learned her belongings were lost in transit. It was discovered that her clothing was in Helsinki, confused with other materials.
Suzanne sat in the seat and watched others depart the plane. No coincidence, she thought. The prime suspect of missing luggage: Jane Hamilton.
"Oh…game on, bitch." She muttered, watching her walk onto the steps.
"Say something, Q?" The President asked, his look, a little of shock. Did she say what I thought she said?
"Oh…always a hitch, Mr. President." She said.
"That heifer…" Suzanne nodded her head, still smiling, thinking. She knew of Jane Hamilton's trickery but that…'conveniently' losing my clothes...' trick.
Clothes, according to her, were easy to replace.
Technology made it possible to browse, purchase and pickup. She liked Evans, shopped there while in Oxford years ago.
"Rule 43: Keep a credit card for an emergency."
Within five minutes, she purchased two dresses and a small jacket. An associate dropped off her purchase at the lobby.
"I'll be ready for the junket." She excused herself, taking her bag to the suite. She had about an hour to prepare for the conference. "Oh, I've got something for her…"
Sophisticated lady
Sophisticated lady
On her I-Pod was a mixture of old school music. She stumbled across a song that seemed to describe her new-found confidence associated with her position:'Sophisticated Lady.' The tune coincided with the new outfit, new job title. She dressed, singing along to the song.
"Glad I listened to Mom." Suzanne reached in her carry on, where her pantyhose, slip, and extra underwear were neatly tucked inside her shoes.
She's a different lady with a different style
She stands tall and steady like the Eiffel Tower
She is hip to politics but loves her jazz
Everyone knows how she got her name, yeah…
"Q—let's go!" Dash knocked three times. Suzanne closed the door, joined the President's side. The three walked toward the backstage, discussing last minute notes and changes to the program.
Suzanne Gibbs became a reluctant role model for women and young girls because of the dress. She was irritated once the flashbulbs popped…and her name called in frenzy that winter afternoon in London.
Oh, ha, she wears knee length dresses with her high heel steppers
She's not no back stabber but she's sure a pleaser
She talks quiet and gentle, she acts very cool
She sticks close to her lover, she obey God's rules, woh
Tim McGee noticed his boss' wife on the 24 hour news channel. The glimpse of her behind the President of the United States was not unusual. The story featuring only Suzanne Gibbs, however, was completely a surprise.
"Boss, Suzanne is a featured story." Tim adjusted the volume from his chair. Jethro focused his attention onto the wide screen, flashing the term "Fashion Icon?"
"The President's aide, Suzanne Gibbs, had this to say…" The reporter began and an image of Suzanne, dressed in a black sleeveless, mock turtleneck knee-length dress and grayish leather jacket appeared on the screen.
-"'I purchased the dress at Evans, because my clothes were misplaced during transit…"
-"I had the shoes on hand, yes I did…No, I don't think of myself as a fashion icon."
-" Are you kidding?!"
The reporters chuckled to her eyebrow raise, slight lighthearted voice. She did wear the high-heeled steppers, a red wedge heel to compliment her clutch bag.
"I liked the dress, I bought it, and I wore it. End of story.'"
The flashbulbs popped, reporters screaming additional questions.
"'Really?! We're having this conversation? Please focus on both President Owens and the Prime Minister's messages regarding the Global Initiative, instead of what I'm wearing onstage. Both presented very insight viewpoints regarding our planet. Thank you.'"
"Touchdown…and two point conversion…" Suzanne whispered off stage in a stunned Jane Hamilton's ear. "Bow down…"