The shocking thing is how many people, especially men, are willing to practically whore out their daughters and sisters and nieces and granddaughters in this town. I know many of them have ties to The Family, which makes it even grosser, in my book.
So much for “family values,” am I right?
Jordan’s practically worked magic in that area, keeping suspicions off me. It’s not fair I can’t publicly claim him, too.
I think about my second Christmas in the White House, attending Midnight Mass at the National Cathedral with Mom and Dad, and wishing I could marry my men right there.
Maybe…
Maybethat’swhat I should do. Marry Leo, and with Jordan standing up as our best man the three of us will know what’s going on even if we have to keep it a secret from the rest of the world.
Until I’m out of office, that is.
It’s very tempting.
It’s even more tempting to pull Leo into my arms on stage tonight, win or lose, and announce to the world how I feel about him.
Except I haven’t run that past Jordan yet and don’t want to catch him unaware. That’s just being a dick, even though I’m certain he’d be okay with it. Welcome it, even, because of how much easier his life would become, having Leo on hand all the time to help manage me.
Not to mention Casey-Marie would likely chew me a new asshole for not giving her a heads-up about it so she can have a statement ready to release to the press through Angie. Also, Angie would be irritated at me for not knowing she’d have to do a stand-up tonight because the press will likely drown her with requests for more info. Especially considering she’s already called a lid for the day, expecting the comms manager for the campaign will handle that end of things.
By 10:07 Eastern time, CNN, MSNBC, NBC, ABC, and CBS have all called the election in my favor. There are more than enough early voting and absentee ballots counted in California, Oregon, and Washington state to make it clear I have a commanding lead my opponent cannot overcome.
By 11:00 p.m., Fox and FNB have not only reluctantly called the election in my favor, they’re already hammering GOP leadership for running a weak candidate and shoddy election against me. Viciously eating their own, a political ouroboros that’s as predictable as it is sad to witness.
Ironically, polling numbers indicate many GOP voters stayed home rather than vote for my opponent or for me.
I’m good with that. It means four years ahead of me to hopefully get even more accomplished now that I don’t have to think about re-election. I’ll beef up Ciro’s portfolio, meaning he’ll get more foreign policy experience to help silence whatever poor schmuck ends up being his GOP challenger. No one they have in their party right now comes even close to touching Ciro in popularity, and that was made clear by the GOP’s own internal polling.
No, I don’t know how Casey-Marie got her hands on that data, and I don’t want to know, either. I’d be willing to bet Benchley Evans helped her out. They’ve become good friends and he’s helped her network among the GOP.
By network I mean giving her intel about people she needs to have leverage over, especially in the House and Senate.
At 11:15 p.m. Chastings calls me to concede, meaning it’s effectively over even if there are still some GOP idiots huffing to whatever lazy journalists will put them on the air that they’re going to challenge election results in their states. They stand no chance of winning and all it serves is to attempt to rile up their apathetic base ahead of midterms in two years.
I received 489 electoral college votes. That’s a decisive victory no matter how desperately the GOP tries to spin it. While the final vote tallies will fluctuate a little, it appears I won by over thirty points.
After calling Mom and Dad to briefly talk to them, I pull on my jacket and we all prepare to move downstairs, where cutaways on CNN show the ballroom going crazy in celebration.
Kev leans in. “It’s all gravy from here,” he whispers. “At least for the next two years. Just keep telling yourself that and don’t forget it.”
I nod. “I’m trying.”
Jordan walks over with a smirk on his face and fixes my tie for me. He doesn’t say anything, but our gazes lock for a brief moment before he drops me a wink. “Congratulations, Mister President,” he says before stepping out of my way.
“Thank you, Mister Walsh.”
Leo, who’s standing close by, disguises his laughter with a sudden coughing fit.
Downstairs, Stella practically tackles me with a hug when I walk backstage. “Congratulations, bro!”
I let her film a quick selfie video she can post on her social media accounts. Hell, if she’s serious about freeing herself from Ellis, maybe I can steer her toward more liberal clients on the down-low. Surely Jordan can come up with some left-leaning org with deep pockets willing to hire her away from the anti-LGBTQA, pro-forced-birth Evangelicals.
Right? I mean, I can hope.
But I won’t hold my breath.
Ciro walks over, widely grinning because he’s also a realist and knows that this decisive victory also gives his future campaign a massive boost. All we have to do is not fuck up the next four years.
