Consorts
Part Two
Thirteen minutes and twenty-two seconds. That's how long it took for Ainsley and me to start fighting. I know. I timed it. And as long as I've admitted so much, I might as well confess that I started the fight too. I like to fight with her. Is that a crime? Nothing has ever fascinated me quite so much as how her oft times misguided, delusional, but never uninformed, mind works.
Still, I probably should have waited until she was through eating. Only a complete fool such as myself would antagonize Senator Ainsley Hayes on an empty stomach, if the tongue-lashing I received was any indication.
"The right to prayer in schools is essential to first amendment rights, Sam. I'm not talking about teacher-led prayer here. I'm talking about the student's right to exercise their religion in the school setting. And don't you dare tell me I mean only for Christian children, because I don't. Christian, Jewish, Muslim. One of the fundamental problems with the school system today is that they want to take away all kinds of faith and moral standards from our children and replace it with state-run propaganda. Is it any wonder teen suicide is at an all-time high? We refuse to allow our kids to believe in anything anymore. We give them condoms and tell them not to drink and drive and call it progress."
Have I mentioned how absolutely bewitching she is when she's angry? Her pale cheeks start glowing with a kind of suppressed fire, and there is nothing suppressed about the passion in her eyes. Not to mention the fact that she could outwit any politician I ever met, without once having to lie. Oh, right. I'm supposed to be arguing back at her. I could tell, because she was looking at me in a kind of vexed frustration. It's no fun winning an argument without a fight.
"You talk about the first amendment, Ainsley; but you overlooked the other part of it which says that church and state shall be separate—"
"It doesn't say that, Sam."
She cut me off before I even got my momentum going! I think that's not quite fair. If you're going to have a debate, you should at least play by the rules. Not to mention, she was completely wrong. I pushed my glasses up in order to look down on her with the fury she deserved. "Of course it does. Ainsley, you did take Constitutional law at Harvard, didn't you? I'm almost positive it's a required course."
"As a matter of fact, I aced that course," she boasted. She has to be the only woman alive who can look sexy while bragging in the most infuriating manner. "But apparently, at Princeton they don't believe you actually have to read the Constitution in order to pass, because nowhere in the first amendment—or anywhere else in the Constitution, for that matter—is the separation of church and state mentioned. It's one of the great frauds of our society that people believe it's in there. The first amendment says, and I quote, 'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.'"
I don't know whether to be more amused or astonished. "You know that right off the top of your head?"
She gives me that look I hate that tells me I'm the slowest child in the classroom or I'd have grasped this concept long ago. "I'm a Republican lawyer turned politician, Sam. Of course I know it. I could quote you every single amendment to the Constitution, and still, not once, would you find your precious 'separation of church and state.'"
"Where does it come from then?" I ask, honestly intrigued now, though I'm trying hard to appear indifferent. But seriously, when you suddenly discover that one of the concepts all your theories on politics are based on isn't even true, how do you act uninterested?
"It's from a letter that Thomas Jefferson wrote to a Baptist church," Ainsley stated confidently. "You can look it up if you want. But the letter was written in an entirely different context than what it has been applied to today—and at any rate, I don't think letters written by politicians to constituents carry any legal weight constitutionally speaking."
There was a light of triumph in her eyes again. Damn it. This time she seriously had won. She knew it. I knew it. Ainsley didn't even wait for me to concede defeat before diving back into her Kung Pau chicken. Somewhat cowed, I joined her. I wanted to think of another point to argue that one; or at least, to find some justification for what I believed, but it was the ERA all over again. I didn't have a leg to stand on, so I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
She should not have looked so damn irresistible in her jeans and over-sized sweatshirt sitting on that couch, one leg swinging indolently, the other tucked beneath her small frame and munching on her takeout with obvious relish. I'd never known another woman who was so totally at home in her own skin, so confident in her own abilities. She never had to question anything about herself, because she had a base of logic for everything she believed and did.
So why was she sitting here with me?
She looked up then, finding me staring at her, and the blush rose to her cheeks. "What?" she asked self-consciously.
I shook my head, unsure even where to begin. "Nothing." I looked around absently at her friend's apartment, staring out the window with the view of the Lincoln Memorial. "Nice place."
"Yeah," Ainsley agreed, her expression immediately becoming veiled. She looked tense. She knew what I was about to bring up, and she looked every bit as reluctant to discuss it as I was.
But it had to be said. "Why here?"
She immediately assumed a more formal position, legs at her side, hands clasped primly in her lap. I knew she felt more in control that way, which was crazy considering that this situation couldn't be any less professional; but I couldn't begrudge her that right to confront this on her own terms. "You know as well as I do, Sam. It's not good for your career to be seen with me."
Yes, I knew it; but I didn't want to believe it; and I didn't want her to think it. "Who the hell cares, Ainsley? It's just a dinner between two old friends."
"That's not all it is," Ainsley maintained, refusing to give me any place to hide. "And that's definitely not how the press would portray it. Look, Sam, for me it doesn't matter. I've weathered a lot of worse stuff since I came to Washington. But there is no way you can get away with dating a Republican, not with the election coming up."
"The election is not for another two years, Ainsley," I point out with more than a trace of disbelief. There's more to this than keeping me safe from scandal. She probably didn't want her Republican daddy to find out about it.
Her blue eyes stare intently into me as she replies, "But you'll have to declare your candidacy soon if you're going to stand a chance at winning the nomination."
My jaw nearly drops to the floor. Ainsley certainly wasn't the first person to suggest to me that I should run for President, but she didn't seem to be suggesting it. She took it as a given that I would. "I'm not running, Ainsley. There's no way."
"Why not?" she challenged. "You would rather have another four years of Lillienfield? Because I guarantee you, Sam, there's not another Democrat capable of beating him."
Ignoring all the political implications of what she said, I immediately focused on the personal undertone. "You sound like you want me to. Isn't that like heresy?"
Ainsley graced me with a withering stare. "You, of all people, should know by now that I don't decide anything based on the party line. But if you're asking me if I would rather see you in the White House than Lillienfield, the answer is absolutely." My shock must register on my face, for she sighs in exasperated resignation. "Sam, I've told you before, I may not agree with most of the things you believe in; but I do believe that more than anything you want what's best for this country. I want that too, and I don't think Lillienfield cares about anything besides how dignified he looks giving the State of the Union address."
"Yeah, but he supports gun owners rights and prayer in schools—"
"President Lillienfield supports whatever his advisers and pollsters tell him to support," Ainsley retorted viciously. "I would think you'd be happy to learn I'm repenting of my evil Republican ways—"
"Are you repenting of your evil Republican ways?"
"No," she returned nonchalantly, only the tiniest of smiles tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And if you don't run, I suppose I'll be forced to vote for him again. Hoynes will get the nomination, and he's no better than Lillienfield with the added detriment of being a Democrat."
"You're serious about this, aren't you?" I questioned, trying to draw her out. It's not like the idea hadn't occurred to me before; but I had always put it off, reminding myself that I was too young to think of the White House. "You think I should run?"
"I think I've made that pretty clear, Sam. But that's not really the issue. You are going to run. There's no doubt in mind about that. The only question is whether or not you are going to win, and my prediction is you will…as long as you are not involved in yet another sex scandal."
I wince at her pointed reminder of the Laurie incident. "That was almost ten years ago, for God's sake. Aren't people ever going to forget about it?"
She laughed derisively. "In Washington? You've got to be kidding me. No, Sam, they won't. But it can be easily brushed aside in today's society considering you've kept your nose clean ever since. Just don't give them anything new to write about."
"And that's where this comes in." I gesture broadly around me at the apartment.
She nods once in the affirmative, before eyeing me with a sort of sad speculation. "Of course, if I was truly and completely motivated only by a desire to protect you, I would have said no the second you asked me out; and I never would have brought you here."
My mouth feels suddenly dry and my throat is choked. Relating to women has never been my strong suit. Relating to Ainsley is damn near impossible sometimes. "So why did you? Say yes, I mean…and bring me here."
She bit her lip, and the sudden mental image of her dancing to the Bassa Nova in a bathrobe flashed before my mind. I don't think even Ainsley knows what makes her do half the things she does. She can't blame them all on pink squirrels. Finally, she shrugged; and the moment passed. She is once again the totally in control woman who I'm sure knows all the answers to everything in my life. "You looked like you needed me," she said quietly.
Without even thinking about it, I reached out a hand and stroked the smooth, satiny surface of her cheek. "I did." Her eyes closed, but she didn't pull away. Rather her hand covered mine and she leaned further into my touch. "I do need you."
Her eyes fluttered open as she slipped ever closer into my arms. "I know." The gentle whisper in the soft Southern accent was the last thing I heard before I gave into the urge I'd been fighting for eight years and kissed the lips of my fiercest opponent.
~~*~~
I liked watching him sleep. All the stress and tension that weighed on him on a daily basis disappeared when he slept; and I knew what it was that drew me to him, that little lost boy came shining through when he slept beside me. A few hours before he had been a man, sweeping me away in a haze of passion and desire; and I had wanted him. But now he was a boy, curled against me, his heart beating a slow, steady rhythm against my palm; and I loved him.
I had told him that I thought he needed me. I had given that as my excuse for accepting his invitation. But that was such a small part of the things at work inside of me. He had seen so much of this world—both the good and the bad—and he would see far more before long. I wanted to give him a place of safety, of comfort, of rest. I wanted to give him all myself.
I wasn't about to tell him that of course. I would never make myself so vulnerable. Especially since I knew he didn't love me. Oh, he thought he did; or at least, he recognized that he had feelings for me. But those feelings weren't love. He needed someone to protect him, to take the pain away, to believe in him. I could be all that for him. I would be all that for him, and I didn't care what that meant for me or my career.
There was something about Sam Seaborn. I knew I wasn't the first person to recognize it, but perhaps I was the first person who knew how to deal with him. I would never cave in an argument, because that would be a sign either of weakness or lack of intelligence. He'd lose respect for me; and with lost respect, there would go all of his affection for me.
Sam only understood things in terms of the straightforward, though. He never would pick up on the other ways that I gave in to him, because they were things he took for granted. And I didn't care what I had to give up. He was worth it. I didn't need to be a lifelong senator. I didn't need to be a Supreme Court justice or the President myself. I had wanted those things for as long as I could remember; but watching him sleep, all of those plans and aspirations fled.
What I wanted more than anything else in the world was for Sam to be the man I knew he could be. He could be the greatest President since Abraham Lincoln, but he would need people to support and guide him in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine. I knew my part. It was a part that would receive neither glory nor recognition. Indeed, if anyone found out about me, then I would have failed. I wouldn't have been what he needed of me.
And what would I be? Well, mistress seems to be the term most often used in America today; but I hate that word. It does not begin to describe what I was to Sam. I prefer the language of the court of Versailles. I would be his consort. His confidante, his solace, his friend.
In a lifetime plagued by inexplicable—some would say irrational—decisions, this would prove to be my craziest one yet. But I didn't think of that as I slipped out of the warm bed by Sam's side and tracked down my scattered clothes. I didn't think of what my father would think of me, or what the American public would think of me if the knowledge of our affair ever leaked out.
I thought only of the man who needed me so desperately and who I loved with the whole of my heart.