Georgia on my Mind {Part XXIX}
Day 75
Morning
Olivia enters the grandiose executive office suite. She turns swiftly, "Wait at the end of the hallway," she commands.
"Ma'am, there are specific protocols…," Agent Russell recites. Liv offers an unimpressed glare. "Agent Larson expects me," he continues and she places her hand on her hip and tightens her grip around the straps of her Prada bag. He sighs in frustration, "Ma'am, President Grant will personally place a bullet in my head if any harm comes to his family. Can we please find a way to work together?"
Of course he would do the most. "I appreciate your situation but I cannot do my job the way I need to do my job with you hovering. I take full responsibility but more importantly I will speak with the Commander in Chief. Now for the last time…wait at the end of the hallway," she demands.
Agent Russell counters, "The best I can do is outside the door." She nods in agreement as he signals the other agents and takes up post.
"Olivia Pope…do what do I owe the honor?" Leo Bergen greets rising from behind the chaos of his desk.
"I come bearing gifts," she hands him a thick Pendaflex bonded fastener folder.
"Are you trying to recruit me into your merry band of henchmen?"
"Not in the least. Suffice it to say a number of Congress members may become vulnerable to primary challenges. Why let the Susan Ross victory be a one off?" she challenges.
Leo flips through each section and his brows rise, "These are long-standing incumbents…some from extremely safe seats."
She turns and retreats speaking over her shoulder, "Let the word go forth…this is a new day and the Grant Administration does not play."
Afternoon
"Harrison, are we ready?"
"Yes Mr. President. Abby stashed the reporters in the bullpen and contacted the local affiliates for each prospective no vote. The major networks await our signal to interrupt scheduled programming."
They enter the East Room and Fitz greets each member of Congress. The atmosphere is cold. Harrison stands post at the door prepared to signal the Communication Office. Fitz takes a seat and the participants follow his lead. "I understand there is reluctance to follow through on your campaign promise to vote in favor of the current infrastructure legislation. I am here in good faith to negotiate and secure a yes vote."
The various members share furtive glances before Senator King of Iowa speaks up, "Mr. President, we can speak in specifics but we need to address the real reason you do not have the votes you need."
"I am listening." Harrison sends a text message and the note takers enter the back of the room.
"We are men and women of principle and the new direction you have suggested for our party is not consistent with the Judeo-Christian founding fathers of this nation. The language regarding guest workers and affordable housing benefits immigrants and the low income without minimum work requirements or drug testing. While there are exceptions to every rule…for example: former Congressmen Watts, Senator Scott of South Carolina and on occasion former RNC Chair Steele the hue of your new outreach voters, some members of your administration and unfortunately the possible new First Lady are not reflective of our core constituency. Your former wife understood the fundamentals; maybe she could play a role in the administration…behind the scenes of course."
Fitz clenches his jaw exhaling deeply as his nostrils flare, "Let's begin," he responds deliberately ignoring the racist bile spewed. I hope they enjoy their last few votes.
Evening
Lillian Forrester paces around the Oval Office taking notice of the items on display: historical paintings of former presidents, busts of historical figures, and various antiques. She stops and looks behind the desk: family photos of the Grant children at different ages. The images that give her pause are the numerous candid photographs from the campaign trail of him and his team. There is one consistent face…the message is clear: Olivia Pope is the center of his world. She takes a deep breath. I can flip this in my favor.
"Ms. Forrester, thank you for your patience. I understand you were interested in an exclusive interview…the man behind the presidency-correct," he states crossing the threshold.
She extends her arm for a handshake that she holds far too long, "Thank you for taking the meeting." Fitz gestures for her take a seat. She waits until he sits before taking the spot on the opposite end of the couch he selects. "I have a great deal of respect for how you handled your tumultuous campaign; and if I am honest…a lingering crush," she smiles coyly. She looks up to measure his response. His face is unreadable and his body language does not offer a single clue.
He finally speaks in a crisp professional tone, "May I ask why you did not make your request through the Communication Office?"
Lillian pushes the hair behind her right ear, "I admit," she giggles. "I called in a favor…does that make me a bad girl?" she flirts.
"No, you are a grown woman who is unprofessional," he snaps.
She sobers. Execute plan B. "Well, after I share the information from my interviews with your former wife you may change your mind about my discretion."
Tension stiffens his spine but his face radiates confidence, "I can only assume these interviews were conducted during visiting hours from the federal prison or after her release to house arrest?"
"She has quite the story to tell…about you, the children; and your dear, departed father. Surely we can work out a favorable outcome for the Grant legacy and my career. Meet a few personal requests to sweeten the deal and we are in business."
Fitz stands quickly and buttons the single button on his navy blue pinstriped Brooks Brother suit. "Please follow me," he gestures to the left. She trots behind him to keep up with his long strides. He enters his working office retrieves a remote and turns on the television. They chyron at the bottom of the screen reads: Breaking News.
Silent she takes in the block print scrolling across the monitor: Racist Republicans attempt to extort President Grant. The evening anchor introduces the segment:
The Grant Administration released a full transcript…local reporters are camped outside the home offices of each member of the House of Representatives or Senate…The message is clear…Do not come for this President
He turns slowly and watches her disassemble, "Please leave every piece of evidence, recordings, notes, your calendar and any other item associated with your time with Mellie Vaughn on the table. I will take your temporary press pass," he holds out his hand.
She trembles but complies. "Mr. President," she stammers.
He holds up his hand to stop her. "Save it…your career is over; never to be resurrected. Your only saving grace is that I am handling this and not the beautiful, brilliant but exceedingly deadly woman in my life." She swallows thickly. "Tom," he bellows. "Please show Ms. Forrester out of the White House and assign an agent to prepare a report when she is out of Washington, D.C."
Late night
Olivia paces in the bedroom. She is half dressed in only a bra and the pants from her suit. Every few feet she pauses and stares at Fitz before resuming her steps. "Are you ever going to respond?" he questions.
"Respond," she nods slowly. "Where to begin…even in an orange jumpsuit with basic let's make a plea deal legal counsel the devil's shit ball thinks she has cards to play. Or should I start with that stringy-haired, flat behind wannabe Barbara Walters offering her briar patch crotch," she snaps.
"Wow…I did ask. Can I ask you to focus on the fact that we handled the situation?"
"You can ask," he interrupts her sentence.
"We can be angry or we can be strategic. Let's be strategic."
"Fine," she resumes pacing. "We need to prepare the kids."
Fitz picks up her train of thought, "We turn over the information and evidence from today to Agent Webster and she accelerates prosecution."
Olivia nods, "I hate this for them but…"
He reaches out and pulls her to stand between his legs from his spot sitting on the side of the bed. "The outcome from Mellie's choices was never going to be pretty but together…you and I can make the best of a bad situation…teach them to be stronger."
She exhales, "That…I can do."
