Bang! Bang! {Part XIV}
Olivia falls into the chair behind her desk. The morning had been hectic to say the least. The only word Teddy used regularly was no…Gerry lost his research paper for his Civics class and Karen had nothing to wear despite having access to every designer on the planet. I understand that dilemma. She shook her head rolling her eyes and a soft smile tugged at her full lips. After shutting off the domestic section of her brain she switches into professional mode to scrutinize her calendar as Chief of Staff. Her brain stutters to a stop and her eyes squint in confusion. The entire afternoon was blocked off: Meeting with Social Secretary-wedding arrangements. "Charlotte, may I see you please?"
The earnest young woman rushes across the threshold with a tablet and stylus in hand, "Yes Ms. Pope?"
"Why have I lost my entire afternoon serving the citizens of this great nation in order to pick flower arrangements and place settings?" The displeasure in her tone was firm and one degree short of hostile.
After a few taps the anxious secretary responded, "The President directed the change, Ma'am."
Olivia closed her eyes counting to ten before exhaling slowly and rising from her chair. She gathers her materials for her next meeting. "Thank you for the information. Please revise my calendar to reflect the meetings and activities previously approved by me," she directs.
"Of course Ms. Pope," Charlotte returns to her desk and sends an instant message to Lauren. "Tornado Pope headed your way."
In preparation for his upcoming live interview with the First Couple, newly single James Novak reviews his notes and the raw footage from his team's exclusive two days inside the White House bubble. The unfettered access captured a reality guaranteed to capture the nation for weeks to come. He bounces Ella on his hip a melancholy vibe permeated his home as he reflects on the recent chain of events. His marriage was ending while he documented the beginning of happy ever after for the two most powerful people in the world. God has a twisted sense of humor.
The Oval Office buzzes with activity. Staffers speak over each other debating policy and assigning tasks. Policy papers are revised and assigned priority numbers on the POTUS task list. Fitz works diligently seemingly oblivious to everything happening around him. The purposeful chaos stops based on a single voice, "President Grant and I need the room," her smoky voice calls from the doorway. The space clears in record time.
"This is a surprise," he smiles looking up. He tempers his response once her notices her cold eyes. Someone screwed up something. "Who is getting their ass handled?"
"Did I start wearing pearls?"
His brow furrows, "No…what is going on?"
"Do I wear sweater sets and hand out cookie recipes?" she continues to question moving further into the room.
"Of course not…you aren't some ornamental appendage…you are a Big Dog," he confirms.
"I do not believe you," she challenges.
"Excuse me," he stands from his desk.
"If you actually believed I was a Big Dog you would not have scrapped my afternoon on Capitol Hill or my bilateral meeting with the Housing and Urban Development Secretary to pick floral arrangements and processional music for our upcoming wedding," she eyes him skeptically.
Fitz opens his mouth to defend himself but no words can be found. He takes a deep breath, "I swear I will get better," he begins. "Not to make excuses but I have spent my entire life with an inanimate ornament beside me. I do not have the forethought or skills to work with a functional partner," he explains. "Forgive me," he moves from behind the desk toward her. "I have a lot of work to do to be worthy of you." He reaches out with his long, strong arm pulling her toward his hard body.
"I will consider it," Olivia pushes back with her voice although her body melts against his hard chest.
He lowers to his knees using a free hand to pull the zipper of her slacks with him. "Allow me to offer a full apology," he offers burying his face against the silk of her panties. Olivia begins to shudder above him and the scent of her arousal fills his nostrils. Fitz extends his tongue leisurely drawing a figure eight over her concealed mound. Her eyes cross and her mouth falls open. He is so forgiven.
Her slender fingers snatch the vibrating device from the corner of her desk, "Andrew Nichols why are you calling me?"
"Elizabeth, we play this game too well to pretend my calls are anything but a net positive," he replies.
"If you are calling me to fix the mess you created attempting to challenge the sitting President I am all ears. I can definitely orchestrate your return to the establishment and move you to the front of the line for the next nomination after his second term."
"I have a better idea…you and I create a fail-safe plan to take this year's nomination when President Grant drops out of the race," he dangles the ultimate brass ring in front of the power driven woman.
Her breath catches, "I want plausible deniability and the Chief of Staff spot."
"Chief of Staff is easy but we both have to have skin in the game…so if you want in you will get dirty," he clarifies.
They hold their respective phones in silence. She craved a seat at the table and every pathway thus far held an obstacle she could not conquer. He would never fully trust Mellie or Cyrus. They had both been on the inside and sold him out when necessary. He refused to keep making the same mistakes.
Elizabeth responds first, "I will send you a burner phone and we can discuss the details."
Andrew smiles "Wait for a post card from a P.O. Box."
Olivia clad in white satin pajama pants and a warm lounging sweater stands in their closet hanging up her gladiator armor when Karen's pacing catches her eye. "You can come in any time," she greets the awkward teen.
Karen debates silently before crossing the threshold releasing a shaky breath, "I am sorry…I know this is a bother but I was hoping maybe you have a time or would not mind talking…I," she stammers before sighing in despair.
Olivia listens to the angst in her voice and observes the young girl's defeated body language enclosed in a Care Bear onesie. "Of course I have time and I will always make time."
They take seats on the carpeted floor. Karen sits crossed leg and begins to unload but does not dare look up. "The drama is the same as boarding school. I am the First Daughter. I am expected to be spoiled, pretentious…fake as a three dollar bill. Add in my mother's expectations…I am not sure who I really am but I am confident I know who I do not want to be."
Olivia sits with her back against a wall resting her arms on her bent knees nodding in understanding, "What are their names? Or what is the name of group?"
Karen exhales in relief, "The Future First Wives…FFW for short. Emily Jane, Catherine Claire and believe it or not an actual Elizabeth Taylor-she goes by Bitsy." Liv covers her mouth but cannot contain the laughter. Karen joins in adding more color commentary, "They wear a string of pearls-everyday. If we didn't have Secret Service Gerry would have to file a restraining order. They are relentless," she continues unloading her social nightmare.
Fresh from the shower Fitz lies in bed propped against two fluffy pillows balancing a laptop on his waist. He checks the time and glancing at the empty spot next to him. He scratches his bare chest with his right hand while his left continues to click on the images of wedding options the Social Secretary sent him. He created two folders: what I like and what I think she will like.
Later than usual Olivia climbs into bed after stripping down to a satin camisole and lace boy shorts. He yawns, "Everything okay…you two were in there for awhile?"
"Actually, things are good. My boarding school scars and party girl past is advantageous," she leans over his shoulder attempting to decipher what he has his attention.
He lifts his brow, "Really?"
"Absolutely…taking down the mean girls was my specialty," she shrugs.
He nods before switching topics, "So, consider the 'Hers' folder option A and 'His' folder option B," he slides the device in her direction.
Liv sits up on her knees, "You worked on our wedding?"
"Trust me…I got the message. I even had Lauren work with Charlotte to coordinate a convenient time on both our schedules to finalize everything this week."
Olivia moves the laptop to the bedside table and straddles his lap, "Well, aren't you something…maybe a reward is in order."
He smiles seductively running his hand up the back of her thighs, "I have been a very good fiancé."
She nibbles at his neck and pinches his nipples waiting for the familiar heat of his manhood hardening against her thigh. Her mouth travels down her favorite playground-his chest. Her tongue laps at his tip until she hears the sounds of his anguished moans. He groans once her full lips inhale him inch by inch. Nothing is better than this.
Huck pulls up and parks across the street from the modest home. He pushes the lever to recline the bucket seat and makes himself comfortable. He watches through the window as Kim completes her nightly shutdown of the house: closing curtains, checking the locks at the front and back door before shutting off the lights. His phone pings with two separate notifications. He listens to the voice mail first. "Good night Dad." He taps the screen to read the text message: Good night Diego.
