But I’ve never owned ahome.
I’m basically poor compared to other US politicians at my level. I didn’t have a lucrative law career or family money to support me when I ran for office the first time. I also refuse to pocket money from special interests. I’ve stashed as much as possible into savings, both my government salary and my military disability pension. I could buy a modest home now, but there will be security considerations to take into account. Not to mention Leo and Jordan deserve input. I want this to be a group decision. And depending on how today turns out, that decision is one that’s still likely four to eight years in my future.
I digress.
Again, I suck at spinning yarns.
Don’t look so shocked. You were warned.
From the moment we exit my front door this morning at Number One Observatory Circle I’m “on.” Outside the gates of my residence press eagerly await to capture images of me emerging, meaning I have to be very careful today because all eyes will literally be on me.
Casey-Marie Blaine, my chief of staff if I win, meets me and Jordan at Andrews, where we depart from. Various campaign staff also join us, as do the traveling press pool who’ve followed me ever since I officially declared.
I remember to smile, I remember to shake hands.
I remember to pretend I’m a functioning adult.
At every chance I look to Jordan, who always stands in my line of vision if not at my side.
And we exchange one of our many secret gestures—head nods, or touching the daith piercings we both wear in our ears. Our silent communications allow us to have entire conversations without speaking. Something Leo taught us both.
Leo might have pierced the boy’s nipples but Jordan willingly let me mark him like this. Jordan wanted me to know he’s as vested in me as I am in him. I surprised him by asking for a piercing for me, too.
The ultimate in matchies.
To Leo’s credit he didn’t get upset about us not consulting him first. Considering all the years I spent with Leo and wouldn’t let him collar me but then I go and not only let Jordan order me to wear a day collar for him but I get pierced for Jordan without bothering to ask Leo first?
Fortunately Leo loved that we bonded so strongly to each other. Which is one of countless reasons why I love that fricking sadist so goddamned much. Unfortunately, due to work, Leo won’t be able to join us until later today. He’ll meet us at the hotel where we’re holding our election watch party.
And likely where I’ll give my victory speech.
Stella isn’t with us this morning. Casey-Marie laid down the law to her and told her unless she wanted to pay the full price for her ticket there wasn’t space on the plane because of the travelling press pool and security and staff, and that we’d see her at the hotel tonight.
I secretly relish that it pissed Stella off. Besides, Stella’s legal residence is in DC, so it’s not like she has to travel to Nebraska to vote.
My stomach knots when we’re notifiedAir Force Twois making its final approach. As Jordan, Casey-Marie, and I buckle into our seats in the private suite in the plane’s nose, she gives me a smile.
“Breathe, kiddo. You’ve got this.”
Alone with them I don’t bother forcing a smile in return. “Keep reminding me of that.”
“Hey.” I look up at her sharp tone. “I wouldn’t be here, and neither would Jordan, if we didn’t think you’ve got a handle on this. You aren’t the first POTUS who has a few emotional issues and you won’t be the last. What matters is how well their staff kept that hidden from the public. It means you’re frickinghuman. I’d be worried about you if you weren’t stressed to hell and back right now because it’d mean you’re some kind of narcissistic, sociopathic asshole without a soul.”
“Keep reminding me of that, too, please.”
“Don’t worry.” Her smile turns evil. “I’m having fun getting my sadistic jollies wrangling you, buster. You think I’m bailing on you any time soon, think again.”
It’s more Jordan’s laugh at that than Casey-Marie’s comment that finally coaxes a smile from me. “I don’t deserve either of you. Thank you, both of you, for doing this.”
Jordan reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We’ve got you. Never forget that.”
In Nebraska I get to spend less than ten minutes in private with Mom and Dad after we cast our votes and the press takes pictures. “Private” meaning it’s me, my parents, Jordan, and what feels like at least half of my detail.
No press.
Dare I even hope thatthisis the moment I finally receive what I’ve truly sought from Dad throughout all these years?
Mom sprained her ankle a couple of weeks ago, so she and Dad don’t want to make the trip to DC. Jordan made sure that info got passed to news outlets so there aren’t questions about why they aren’t traveling with us, even though it makes me feel a little like a shitty son for broadcasting it.
