Unfortunately, none of those things happen, and I’m still trapped in hell.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, after I’ve dumped eyedrops into my eyes, washed my face, and I once again look like retired Special Agent Leo Cruz, I return to the room and slip inside. Elliot likely didn’t notice my absence, which is the way it needs to be.
In this capacity, I’m nothing more than a helpful ghost. I get him what he needs, when he needs it, and disappear into the ether to remain a nearly invisible observer while he’s busy and the focus is rightfully on him.
It’s my pet I focus on right now. This is Vice President Elliot Gerald Woodley’s bailiwick. This is the statesman everyone else sees, the calm, steady, brilliant, and gently funny man who’s a breath away from the nuclear codes.
This manispresidential, even if he doesn’t see it in himself.
Isee it.
Most others see it, too.
Only one other person on this planet has ever seen a hint of this man’s vulnerable underbelly, and he’s currently living in Tallahassee.
I suspect one of Elliot’s fears is Jordan will burn us. That, one day, a reporter will pipe up during a regular afternoon presser and sideswipe Angie with a question about Elliot’s sex life, or his sexuality, and cite a breaking news article. A tell-all.
That won’t happen.
I know my boy. I trust him. I never would have let him get as close to Elliot as I did if I didn’t think I could trust him with our secrets.
I mean, I knowthatboy.
He’s notmyboy any longer.
Not on the surface.
In my heart he’llalwaysbe my boy.
I text my mom to see about having dinner tonight. Elliot will be finished by eight, and the event’s in the same hotel as our suite. He’ll be ready to chill up in the suite after that.
Another reason having a suite is perfect, because it has a dining room area where I can have room service bring dinner and my family and I can sit and eat and chat without risk of being overheard.
Elliot can join us, if he wishes, or not.
Sometimes, he needs a little normalcy in his life. There are times I make him come upstairs to the residence to eat dinner with Shae, Chris, Kev, the kids, and myself.
Because otherwise he withdraws into his shell and doesn’t socialize.
Honestly? He really doesn’t have any “friends.” Not because he’s standoffish but because he rightfully doesn’t trust people. He’s insulated himself in an unhealthy way. He had acquaintances while he was in the House, and he has staffers who are loyal to him, but only Jordan and I ever got behind his walls. And Jordan didn’t even make it any farther than just inside his outer defenses.
Jordan was one more friend he had, even if Elliot didn’t fully take advantage of that friendship for a litany of reasons I don’t need to rehash.
It’s doubly difficult for Elliot to make new friends now, because who knows their true motives?
Another reason why I know Jordan was right, and that Elliot needs me.
Once Mom and I agree on a time, I use my work phone to send a note to the head of Elliot’s detail. My family’s already been cleared, so it’s more an FYI to expect them and usher them upstairs upon their arrival after they’re screened through security.
I use my personal phone to take a look at the hotel’s room service menu. Elliot likely won’t eat much downstairs during the dinner, and I’ll order extra for him, anyway. Before checkout, I’ll make sure I go down to the front desk and charge the order to my personal credit card so there’s no issue with it being paid for by the government.
Even Elliot’s portion of it.
I will take care of my pet as much as I can.
My earlier declaration ends up timed perfectly. Elliot’s meeting ends at 9:55, and before we head downstairs to the motorcade, I notify his detail that Elliot needs a couple of minutes.
