Chapter Six

Hardly an hour after her friend's flight from the stage, Meg received a call from a number she didn't recognize. Curious as she always was for unrecognizable numbers, she picked up the call.

"Meg Barnes." She spoke into the pink I Phone C.

"Meg," she heard and knew the voice, "It's Christine. I'm using a janitors phone. Will you get my clutch from the chair and come out here with it?"

"Where are you, hon?"

"Down the main hall and to the left next to the bathrooms."

"Gotcha, okay, I'll be right there."

"Thanks, Meg."

"Don't mention it. See you in a second."

Wanting to check in on her friend as soon as possible, she nearly ran over to Raoul's table. He appeared to be having all sorts of fun with his now full table of various people who all laughed with him. She wasn't going to interfere with that, especially as they weren't supposed to technically know each other for business reasons. They shared a mutual relation and that was all. When she reached around the back of what was Christine's chair, Raoul saw her and stopped her.

"Where is she?" He asked, a touch of concern in his eyes.

"I'm going to give this to her and make sure she gets home okay. I think she needs some girl-time right now."

"Will you please tell her to call me or something? I want to make sure she's all right." People were looking at him from his table and he finished up with, "My office would fall apart without her!" And they took the bait enough to laugh.

"Right," Meg agreed, taking the matching blue clutch with a silver chain for her friend. She went ahead a got their coats from a reservation desk just outside the room after she found Christine's ticket just inside the purse. Both big coats in her arms, she walked quickly down the hall and found Christine sitting against the wall in a side hallway, her dress spread all around her. Meg sat down next to her, placing the coat around her friend's shoulders for some comfort.

"You really do look like Cinderella with that dress." She commented and her friend smiled.

"Don't remind me." Christine sighed, "Does this mean I'll turn into a pumpkin soon?"

"Well, if this constitutes as a shoe," Meg was holding out the purse, "I think I've already found you."

"That was easy." Christine laughed half-heartedly, "It helps when you have directions."

"And a GPS." Meg took another look at her friend before speaking again, "You okay? I figured you just need some time alone."

"I'll be fine. I remember coming here with my dad before. He knew of a practice room that they always keep unlocked downstairs. Who would have thought that after all these years, there it was still unlocked? I never thought of it this way, but it was like going back to see him somehow."

"That's…good?" Meg commented slowly.

"It was, I think. It's been so long since I sang anything. I don't even hum anymore. Maybe it's better that I got that over with. Too bad it had to be in front of so many crazy powerful people."

"That's who you used to sing for anyway, right? They pay the bills after all."

"That's what Dad used to say."

They sat together in silence, just wanting to breathe and think for a moment. Meg was impressed by how calm her friend was being. Just half an hour ago Christine was having a panic attack and now she seemed calm and clear as ever. Whatever she had come to in the practice room appeared to be good for her even if her make up was nearly all cried off. Meg was impressed by how well she had wiped it away without leaving smudges all over her face. She took her friend's hand and squeezed it lightly.

"How about we go hit up a Seven-Eleven for some ice cream? I'd say milkshakes but stupid D.C. doesn't have anything else open late."

"What is it with this city?"

"Beats me." Meg stood up, her hand still with her friend's, "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

"What? Are we really going to go to a Seven-Eleven looking like this?"

"You bet we are! Let's blow this place!"

They were laughing and holding hands as they ran out to hail a cab.

VI

Erik did not sleep that night. He had plans far beyond what he had originally thought possible. He wasn't completely sure how she would play into his succession of American political leadership, but she would. While it may not have been clear to her, he knew why he wanted her. There was something within her pleading to be freed and he would figure out how to let it out. She was so different from him. She had no desire for power or money, after all, she was living in poverty as far as he found out. Her life had been one of the great trails since she was orphaned.

Through various forms of special clearance over the world wide web, he steadily found out every possible scrap of information available.

Full Name: Christine Joanne Gallagher
Birthday: February 28, 1989
Parents: Charles Nicolas Gallagher and Joanne Jones Gallagher
Birth Place: Albany, New York

It was even more useful that she was born in the state he represented. That allowed even further access to her files. She had been enrolled in over ten schools, never seeming to stay long. Her mother died in a car crash when she was seven. It appeared to be from an impaired truck driver late one morning. Charges were pressed but fell apart in the justice system when costs grew too high and the company the man worked for could afford better representation.

After this, records of Christine and Charles were found all over the northeast, a little in Canada, and some on the east coast. Charles made his profession working for various bands and orchestras. He played the violin most of the time, could get by accompanying parlor singers on the piano, and would sometimes teach voice lessons if he were in town long enough. They appeared to stay in one place for three to four months at a time in the summers, one place for a holiday season that lasted from November to January and hopped around between all other times.

Regardless of this, Christine always appeared to make good grades in whatever school she wound up in. Sometimes she would test far above average when on the outskirts of a city, then test relatively average when inside one depending on the state. She received Advanced Placement credits along the way, enough to give her some credits for college. She appeared to have started at a few different community colleges, finally finishing on a scholarship to the University of Maryland. Her majors had been scattered, none of them focusing on music. Her final major was vaguely in communications.

When she was thirteen, Charles had been diagnosed with brain cancer. They continued to travel for a little while longer, but eventually, they settled in an apartment outside of Annapolis, Maryland. They stayed there until he died. She was sixteen at the time. From there, she was placed in foster care in Baltimore. After graduation, her residency seemed to fall off the map until he found a loose record of her leasing her current apartment in Washington D.C. Interestingly, it only after getting employment from Raoul Peters that this occurred. Before this employment, there was a time were many late payments on her rent were recorded until more than one lease was terminated. During this time, her name did not show up anywhere for a few months. Every now and then there would be a hotel room or a campground, but nothing more. A car under Charles' name was sold later when she rented a one-room basement apartment under a tiny house in Eastern Market. There, she had stayed.

Erik looked at the address again. It was only eight blocks from his own residence. She would soon know this, soon know just how close she had been to him for the past year and had never known or thought. That was how most people knew of him, though. He had found a row home that sat on a relatively corner with a small yard surrounding the house. There were limited windows for any of them and his windows were tented both ways so that no one could see in or out. Besides that, and the professionally kept front lawn, his house did not look so different from any other. Lining his gates were olive trees to give him a bit more privacy. The last owner had planted them, but he found no issue with them and kept them.

Sometime around five in the morning, he had saved her number, email, and address into his phone. From there he texted her, A pleasure meeting you yesterday evening, Ms. Gallagher. If you have no other restrictions in your schedule, I would like for us to meet this Monday at eight-thirty sharp.

All that was left was to wait for her response.

VI

When Christine had not decided to go home with him, Raoul was admittedly upset. She wasn't picking up her phone and was sparsely texting him back. There was something so unsettling about returning to his home alone that he absolutely dreaded. He enjoyed how in college he had a fraternity house filled with friends constantly buzzing with life even if it was simply playing a video game. He was too old and too rich to look for a roommate, there was only space for a family or absolutely close friend to be living with him under one roof.

While he wasn't sure just how he felt about this, he sort of liked it when Meg was extremely busy with a new project and could walk her own damn dog. That way, he was all that Christine had in the city. She didn't make friends easily, not because she was unlikable, it was that she was poor at following up with others especially when she didn't really like them. Raoul didn't have time to think of such things, instead, he simply liked to have company around. He didn't need to make some deep special connection with everyone, he just needed everyone.

Before his TV, he flipped late night channels, settling on trying to catch up on the latest episode of Game of Thrones. He admitted he was very behind on the season. Various pictures of naked women just coming to the peak of love making flashed before his eyes. He thought of Christine and how she wasn't there. It's not like they had to have sex every night, but he wanted her around just incase the thought came up. He liked the way she closed her eyes, her sighs, the way she clutched the sheets.

Perhaps marriage would need to be sooner in his future. Something had to give. He wanted her with him. His hand had found its way to his belt and stayed there for a little while as he continued to watch the screen. The scene had flipped to two men doing the same thing. Raoul made a face and pulled his hand away. That was fine for them, but he wasn't into that.

A beer in his hand, the controller in his other, he fell asleep in a laid back arm chair in his living room only a few hours before the sun came up again. He was happy to have the rest of the day to sleep and watch football. Christine would come to watch the game with him later and they would order a pizza like they usually did. He knew she wasn't interested in the game so much, but he liked it when she fell asleep on his chest in the late afternoon and he was always careful not to wake her. They would be as good as ever and he was going to keep it that way.

VI

After the ceremony, Christine and Meg had one of the best girls nights that they could remember. Following a quick stop at a the first Seven-Eleven they could find and asking the cab driver to wait for them, they made their way back to Christine's apartment where they quickly shed their dresses, fancy hair styles, makeup, and changed into PJs. More cheap Barefoot Moscato was opened, was accompanied by popcorn, Bagel Bites, and pretzels with hummus, and by the end of Bring It On, Ever After, and Princess Bride, their minds were so far gone that they cried about everything until the world seemed far more beautiful than it had been hours before.

"Are you tired?" Meg asked. Her feet were tucked up on her friend's legs and her head comfortably on the biggest pillow in the apartment.

"I don't know." Christine was staring at the ceiling.

"I'm tired, but I'm awake, you know?"

Christine tried to look over to Meg and decided not to move instead. "Do you want to watch another movie?"

"No. I think. Wait!" She sat up, "Christine, dance with me!"

This time she looked to Meg in confusion, "What?"

Meg held her hands up, "C'mon let's dance!"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"My head is sort of…"

"No don't say it, let's dance!"

The girls jumped up, Meg pulling Christine and once on their feet they swayed before steadying themselves.

"What about the music?" Christine asked quizzically.

"Oh right. Um…" She leaned down to Christine's computer where they had been watching he movies, "You have Spotify, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ermm okay just a minute…" Meg fiddled around on the computer.

A fast paced harp was heard and Christine's eyes lit up with recognition.

"C'mon Christine!"

And they were dancing to "The Dog Days Are Over." Their dancing was more like jumping and spinning until finally the chorus came up and both girls were yelling rather than singing. Around and round they spun, jumping on the couch at times, using hair brushes and discarded toilet paper rolls as fake microphones they laughed their way until the end of the song where they soon found themselves passed out on the couch till midmorning when Meg had to run off to let Cloe out for a walk.

VI

Once awake, Christine opened her hazy eyes and immediately hated everything involving light. Meg was gone and she faintly remembered them having a conversation earlier in the morning after a fire truck went by and woke them up. Water. She needed water. Sorely, she hoisted herself up from the couch arm and took herself to the kitchen to get the biggest glass of water she could find. Only half of it was drank before the need to use the bathroom grew too strong.

With that business out of the way, she refilled the water to the top, took some Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, and sat back down on the couch. Feeling there was nothing else to do, she found her phone below a couch cushion, and turned the light setting on the lowest she could. Without much thought, she opened her text messages folder. She felt the need to text Raoul, maybe see him that afternoon to show him that she was okay after running out as she had, but something else caught her eye.

There were messages between her and a number she didn't recognize from the previous night. Slowly, she opened the message chain and scrolled to the top.

A pleasure meeting you yesterday evening Ms. Gallagher. If you have no other restrictions in your schedule, I would like for us to meet this Monday at eight-thirty sharp.

It was from him. She closed her eyes for a second, trying everything in her power to muster up the courage to look at whatever she had sent him while completely out of her head. Finally, she looked to the screen.

Oh my dog you found me.

She already felt like an absolute idiot.

I believe I said before that it would not be too difficult to find your information.

But why? I don't get it and I don get you too.

Are you sober?

No.

And you find this sort of entertainment amusing.

No. You don't know me.

You'd be surprised at that.

Gop.. No. Stop like that.

Feel free to respond next time you're in a clear mind.

Her headache was almost cured by her anxiety-filled embarrassment. Regardless of their interactions the previous night when she wasn't out of her mind wasted, she couldn't face him again. How in the world was she supposed to respond to that? How in the world was she supposed to meet with him or pretend that any of this was real ever again?

Nervously, she took her phone in her hands and steadily hit the key board. This had to be good or her life might as well have been over in all of D.C.

Hello Congressman Underwood, I regretfully apologize for having so short sightedly responded to you this morning.

She paused for a moment. What year was she writing for again? Shaking her head, regretting that too, she continued on.

Eight-thirty on Monday would be in my availability for an appointment. Where would you like me to come to?

She took a breath, and hit "Send." Leaning back, she did a heavy sigh. She had made the professional choice, though she slightly wished that he had told her he was no longer interested and left her alone. That way, all she would have to do for the rest of her life would be to shield her face to him whenever he passed the hallway. She felt like such an idiot. Would this affect Raoul too? What if he thought both of them were alcoholics now? What was worse…besides Raoul's career, why did she care so much?

There wasn't time to think before she heard a light buzz from her phone on the table.

Should I be within the belief that you handle your feelings the same way Raoul handles his? Perhaps that is what you two truly share in common. If that is the case, please decline my offer before I retract it.

Maybe she should decline? What if he would simply believe she was an alcoholic and leave her alone? That thought was a temporary comfort and she was thankful that he appeared to have a Droid instead of an iPhone so he couldn't see when she had read his response. A part of her wanted to wait for a long time to respond, but that was ruined when he suddenly responded.

It would be unwise for you to decline out of fear, Ms. Gallagher. I assure you I am willing to look past such "short sightedness" from this morning.

She wasn't sure if her heart had stopped beating or not. This man was clearly impatient. Half of her wanted to type back as quickly as she could, "I'm not scared!" but she thought better of it very quickly. With a sigh she replied what all she could say.

Where?

250 12th St SE

That was a lot closer than she had thought he would be. She tried to recall a mental image of his place from one of the walks she took when she had the time, but was drawing a blank.

Okay. I'll be there.

I look forward to our session.

Another text. She sighed with relief as it was from Raoul.

Want to watch the game with me?

She was surprised he was awake and sober enough to write a full, grammatically correct, question. A half-smiled and a reply.

Sure.

VI

On Monday, Christine found herself inside her office during her lunch break. While some of the interns had actually reached out to her to go to lunch with them, she politely declined saying she had other work that needed to be finished. She noted that the interns seemed a lot closer to her age than her other office workers. Most of them were at least thirty or more and yet there she was in the highest position in the office next to Raoul Peters himself. It was strange and at first, she was very hesitant to take any sort of lead out of possible disrespect, but after things started to fall short of her expectations within the first week, she began to take the reigns, just in a kind and polite way. So far, no one had ever been rude or had challenged her on this, but she wasn't willing to stop and thank any lucky stars yet.

The entire day she had been distracted. That felt ridiculous. There was no way Underwood was letting thoughts of her get in the way of his work life. She wondered if she was a project to him, something for him to look at out of boredom between the day to day life as a politician. She began to wonder why anyone would become a politician and had asked Raoul this many times. He said it was to help people and it seemed to be something that would make his family happy. She wondered vaguely if she was making her father happy, but any further thoughts of disappointing him could not be thought of, especially after such a trying weekend.

While nibbling on a peanut butter and banana sandwich on wheat, she typed "Erik Underwood" into her Google Incognito browser. Of course, and not to her surprise, pages and pages worth of links came up. She decided to filter the politics a bit. "Erik Underwood biography." A Wikipedia page came up first. That was filtered enough for now and she clicked on it.

A picture of Erik, a professional one with a plan gray backdrop and his mask on the opposite side of the emotionless, stone face.

Erik Alexander Underwood (born _ - ) is the U.S. Representative for the state of New York's New York City district. He is a member of the Democratic Party, is one of few to have been so closely associated with the Independent Party during the electoral process, and is accredited with winning votes for not only both major parties, but from smaller minority parties as well.

He was first elected through a special election in May of 2000 and has served as House Minority Whip from 2010 to present (2016). Underwood is accredited to be one of the few within politics to have risen so quickly within a short amount of time and is the second-ranking figure within the House Democratic Leadership hierarchy, second only to the current Vice President.

Of course, this was all the information she already knew. Christine scrolled down to the next section.

Early Life and Education

On of the great mysteries to the public are the parents of Erik Underwood. He is one of the few who can say they were literally left on the foot of an orphanage. While his true birthday is unknown, it is recognized on the date that he was found at the Albany Children's Home in Albany, New York. His name was the only hand written clue to where he came from and had been pinned onto a blanket that held him. Besides the blanket, it is understood that a white half mask had been left with the baby as well, though this is understood to be an urban legend. When asked if he were ever interested in finding his mother he told the New York Times reporter, "I respect the decision my mother made and I do not hold it against her. It was within her rights as a woman to do what she believed best for herself and for me. Unless she chooses to reach out to me, I will keep our distance."

Under the care of the Children's Home, Erik was originally sent to neighboring public school, Harper Elementary. Within a few weeks, it was understood by the orphanage that home schooling would be the best option. This was done not only due to immense bullying from local children, but also due to the intellectual potential Underwood held at a very young age. Through the assistance of the Children's Home, Erik received his G.E.D. at the age of fourteen, and quickly earned a full scholarship to various accredited schools including Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Georgetown, and Oxford.

During his eight years at Oxford, he graduated with doctorates in Political Science, Engineering, and Phycology as well as minors in other various subjects. When questioned on his enormous amount of education, he said, "The best link to other people is education. If I am to listen and understand what they want, I need to know them."

The article then went into his political career, the history of his elections, the leadership he held within the Democratic Party, but Christine kept scrolling down. She took note that he appeared to have made a fortune off of intelligent investments in multiple counties, practically coming up from nothing. Coming to the bottom she finally read the last section before the bibliography.

There were clear similarities that stood out to Christine. Words like orphan, financial hardships, financial growth, odd jobs, relatively secret, and quiet life stood out more than others. She found herself relating to these aspects and found it ironic that someone so different from her could, on paper, appear so alike.

Personal Life

While being known as a man to stay away from the spot light, Erik Underwood is known to be a great supporter of the arts, women's rights, and the environment. His public outings can be expected to circle around these subjects. It is known that he has a residencies in New York City, Washington DC, London, and Tokyo. Besides this, Underwood is known to have a quiet life away from the spot light and dramatic world of politics. He has never married, never been seen with men or women, and has no family to speak of. It is believed that he will leave his estate to the interests he kept to charities.

This night was going to be something else entirely.

Photos and inspiration at capitolintent DOT tumbler DOT com - Don't forget to review! I know this chapter was dense. Next chapter will have some more action :)