Georgia on my Mind {Part VIII}

Next day…

Jerry and Karen enter the family visitor's lounge. Fitz stands in a corner anxiously waiting, "Hey guys, how are you?" The mood is tense.

"Fine…okay," Jerry and Karen speak over each other.

"Why don't we sit down…talk a little," he broaches.

The kids sit side by side slightly apart on the couch and Fitz occupies a chair across from them. He swallows, "I need to apologize about me and your mom. Divorce is hard, but ours was public and I am running for President. How can I make this better or easier for you?" he questions sincerely.

"Mom was going to get me into my trust and buy me a car. Is that still happening?" Jerry speaks first.

"No son…is there something you need?"

"Yeah-my money," he snorts.

Fitz remains silent watching his son's body language. I already lost him but he may have never been mine to begin with-don't go there. He shakes his head back and forth quickly to remove the doubt from his mind, "Karen, what about you?"

She glances at her brother and turns to her father, "Does that mean we don't get to go home?"

"What do you mean?" he is curious.

"Well, Mom doesn't live there anymore and you are campaigning. Are we stuck here forever?" she speaks her fear.

"Do you want to leave?" What have I allowed?

She shrugs, "Family weekend starts tomorrow and extended break is in a couple months," she explains.

"What if you leave with me tomorrow? What do you think Jerry?" he asks with increasing amounts of hope.

"I'll pass…can I go?" Jerry requests fully checked out of the conversation.

"Sure Son…can I call you later?"

"I guess…good luck. By the way, living at the White House would be cool," he offers before exiting the room.

Fitz turns his full attention to Karen, "So what do you say? I have some events but you do not have to participate. I can adjust my schedule so we have time to get to know each other better," he shares.

"Okay…I need to pack. You could carry my bags like the other dad's if you want," she peers up at him.

"Absolutely…how many bags," he teases and smiles big.


They make their way down the dormitory hallway. When they reach the door she knocks, "Bishop, it's me and my father is with me," she announces.

"Oh my God…you couldn't text first…come in," she shouts.

Fitz enters a teenage shrine: memory board covered in pictures; a multitude of ribbons and certificates attached to bulletin boards; lava lamps and every surface covered in books, lip gloss, lotion, jewelry, and body spray. He extends his hand, "Hi, I'm Karen's dad…Fitz Grant."

"I know…your Honor-Sir-Governor," she stutters before taking a deep breath and returning the hand shake. She brushes back her thin, double strand twists from her face.

Fitz laughs and Karen rolls her eyes, "Seriously…get a grip," she playfully chides her roommate. "Dad my big pink duffle is in the closet," she directs.

"Got it," he pulls the bag off the top shelf and places it on the bed. He stands awkwardly listening to their conversation.

"I'm going with my dad. I promise to Face Time every day and we'll text like normal," she explains.

Bishop hugs her tight, "I am so happy for you."

Karen pulls plain jeans and cardigan sets out of her bottom drawer and retrieves underwear and pajamas from her top drawer. She grabs two pairs of flats from under the bed. "Oh, I forgot the headbands," she thinks aloud.

Bishop rolls her eyes. Watching the behavior Fitz remembers an old argument. "Karen, you can wear what you want…I know you hate headbands," he interjects.

Karen freezes and fixes her eyes on the carpet, "Thanks but I don't have anything else. I will leave the headbands though."

"Well, we need to fix that," he takes out his phone and dials. "Hi…Karen is coming back with me…I am excited-he glances at his daughter. Anyway, we need to do some shopping-change her wardrobe…I don't even understand what you just said-hold on," he switches to speaker.

"Karen, my communication director Olivia Pope is on the line…" his introduction is interrupted by full throttled fangirling from both girls.

"Oh My God…I am actually squealing…yes, yes, yes," they are beside themselves with enthusiasm.

Karen and Bishop shout over each other, "Is Abby Whelan with you? Were you wearing Chanel boots on Monday? Oh, does Ms. Whelan always wear the Aviators? Did you really kick those reporters off the bus?"

Fitz's eyes dance with delight. Wow! This may make our lives together much easier. Who knew?

Olivia's laughter echoes through the phone, "I am extremely flattered…who else is on the phone," she asks.

"My name is Bishop Washington, best friend. We are the other Dynamic Duo just like you and Ms. Whelan," she states proudly.

"You hear that Whelan…we're a dynamic duo," Olivia teases.

"You bet your ass," Abby quips from the background.

"Language," Fitz scolds.

"Ugh, Republicans," Abby mutters, "So we're shopping?" she clarifies.

The women and girls talk for twenty minutes before the call ends. "Bishop, it was a pleasure meeting you and I will make sure Karen returns with exclusive campaign swag."Karen groans and Bishop giggles.

Fitz and Karen make their down the hallway. He proudly carries her sparkling duffle bag as they enter the car and start a new chapter of their life-together.


A few days later…

Billy accepts the reality that he cannot shutdown the Grant campaign from behind the scenes. Thus he doubles down on the Langston campaign strategy. They are running the standard RNC playbook: anti-social progress, trickle-down economics-predictable and devoid of energy. His gut is telling him this will not be enough. Not to mention every event with Daniel in attendance raises a foreboding sense of disaster. He needs a game changer and he is desperate enough to consider any option from any source.


Cyrus waits on a park bench in a random park. He sighs deeply. The campaign has caught fire. Fitz is more engaged than ever. Olivia and her team have their own language and they seem to be five steps ahead of him at all times. The addition of Karen on the trail the last few days sparked spontaneity and increased outreach efforts and Millennial participation. This is no longer his party or his brand of politics.

"Feeling sorry for yourself does not get the job done," the dapper African American man interrupts his contemplation before taking a seat beside him.

"I am not sure how I lost control. I am confident we will make it to 1600 but I have no idea if the agenda will be anything like I promised," Cyrus confesses.

The gentleman pats his knee, "Do not worry about the agenda…just make sure he takes the Oath of Office. I know how to leverage my daughter when the time comes. Enjoy the rest of the campaign," he stands to leave.

"Thank you," he replies.


"Dad, can I take a rain check on movie night? Staffing a rally is exhausting," she laughs.

"Sure Princess, I'll be up late. Liv need to revise my speech and I am not done," he admits.

"Ooh…you are gonna get a Jimmy Choo in your ass," she teases.

"Hey-language," he lightly reprimands.

"Sorry…I spent the day with The Boss."

"Who?" his face scrunches in confusion at her statement.

"Oh, Harrison…Bishop and I gave him that nickname and he likes it-a lot," she beams.

Fitz watches her smile and takes in her outfit: skinny jeans, red Adidas with white stripes, a white campaign tank and a coordinating white Adidas sweat jacket with red stripes along the sleeves. This is the girls trapped inside all those sweater sets.

Olivia enters the office glancing between father and daughter, "Hey Rock Star," she bumps Karen's shoulder.

"What's up Liv? Did we meet the turn out goal?" she questions eagerly.

"No…Karen shrinks, you exceeded it by 15%," she informs and plugs her ears to guard against the squealing.

"Yes, I gotta tell Bishop," she turns to exit.

"By the way…these are from Abby," she passes her a Ray-Ban sunglass case.

"Are these…" Karen trails off.

Olivia nods, "You are the proud owner of the hottest Aviators on the market," she laughs.

"Thanks…gotta Face Time Bishop. See ya' Dad," she runs from the office.

Olivia turns to Fitz, "Someone has a very happy daughter," she teases.

"I do but I have all of you to thank for that," he admits.

"If you believe that you are an idiot," she retorts playfully.

He laughs, "How was your day?" he scoots his chair back from his desk.

She closes and locks the door behind her back while facing him. She glides over behind his desk and leans against the edge. "My day was good…this extremely handsome man gave this rousing speech and winked at me. I am totally smitten," she responds with a coy smile.

Fitz rolls his chair closer to her and caresses her denim covered thighs, "Did he do a good enough job to get a tiny, little kiss?"

"I guess," she playfully rolls her eyes.

He pushes her blouse up and delivers a warm, smoldering, open mouth kiss under her navel just above the waistband of her jeans. Her breath catches in her throat. He stands slowly and peppers her neck with a trail of kisses before nibbling on her earlobe.

Olivia pants, "So good."

Fitz captures her full lips and pulls her into his lap as he drops back into the chair. Her hands reach up and capture his face. She opens her mouth and eagerly offers her full tongues. He latches on ferociously. She buries her hands in his chestnut curls. He cradles her back with one arm and grips her entire left ass cheek with his other hand. They devour each other relentlessly until their lungs burn from lack of oxygen.

"Can we end every day like this?" he rasps softly.

"For starters," she winks before they dive back into each other with dreams of forever dancing in their heads.