Nikki chuckles, but it’s full of mischief. “You have more than five days. Give me thirty minutes, and I’ll meet you at the office. I’m not going to let you fuck this up a second time.”
7
Olivia
When my alarm wakes me at 4 a.m., I feel hungover without a drop of alcohol in me. I’m convinced that emotional hangovers are worse than physical ones. Today is no exception. Peeling one eye open, I have time to hit the snooze button once, maybe twice, and snatch up my phone.
I brave one of my social media apps until my nine minutes are up. As predicted, I have thousands of new follow requests for my team to vet, but my eyes snag on one name in particular—Isaac. It’s technically the official account for whoever is the current Prime Minister. Still, seeing his name still makes my breath catch. He’s liked several of my recent posts, but I shouldn’t read into it; it’s likely his social media team at work.
An email notification pops up at the top of my screen, and I groan. Sure enough, it’s my own social media manager, Tracy. I swear the woman can always sense when I’m online. I reluctantly check it.
To: Olivia Harris
From: Tracy Jacobson
Subject: Social Media Followers
Hi Olivia,
I know your phone is likely on DND and you’re headed to yoga shortly, but if you could please call me as soon as you can to let me know how to proceed regarding Prime Minister Banks. He’s now following you on your personal and official accounts and liked the last twelve posts of ours. With the upcoming unannounced event, I’m going to follow him back on your official account and like one or two of his posts.
Also, I’ve perused your recent followers, which now include several celebrities and a few nonprofits. I’m in the process of creating a spreadsheet for your review.
With gratitude,
Tracy Jacobson
Social Media Director
Harris for Governor
If I haveto tell her about Isaac, I don’t want it in writing. I quickly pull up her contact information and call, grateful when she picks up on the second ring. “Good morning, Governor-elect Harris.”
“Seriously, Tracy,” I chuckle. “One, you’re not in office, so no formalities are needed?—”
“I am in office,” she interjects flatly.
“It’s four in the morning.”
“Here on the West Coast, yeah, but?—”
“No buts,” I cut her off, then sigh, “I’m sorry. You’re right that the internet doesn’t wait for us to wake up. However, it’s imperative that you rest! It’s been a crazy few days between the election and the recent viral videos. I can’t have you burning out on me.”
“Noted,butthere really is more,” she admits ominously.
“Fuck. What is it?”
“Aubrey and I have been trying to get ahold of you for hours. I reminded her that you keep your phone on DND, so she’s been pacing in the office until you called. The White House has accepted their invitation to attend a formal meeting in Canada with the Prime Minister and other world leaders—it’s the one you were telling us about yesterday.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because,” she huffs, “it’s with the caveat that you’re there. Aubrey insisted you’d be attending remotely, but the President requested that it be in person.”
“I don’t understand.” I sit up, propping my pillows behind me. “I personally told the President and VP I would attend remotely. Why the sudden change? What has everyone been saying?”
“There are memes, ma’am.”
Fuck, I hate when she calls me ma’am. “Spit it out, Tracy.”
