never shaken

Rose turned when she felt the soft hand on her shoulder to see a blonde woman around her mother’s age comparing her to someone on her phone. She knew she was not the girl she was looking for, but stayed quiet as the woman worked through it on her own. “It okay,” Rose said, when the other finally got there. “I have one of those faces.” The kind that isn’t special enough to stand out and instead is reminiscent of thousands of others. It was why she made for such a good broadcast journalist, pretty enough to look at but plain enough to almost be taken seriously. 

The thought of some company wasn’t such an awful one and she felt bad thinking this woman was getting stood up. “Feel free to keep me company until your friend comes.” She pulls out the stool next to her and pats the wood as an added invitation.

She is nice — nicer than Adelaide deserves. So she offers a smile and more apologies. She really feels bad for confusing the journalist with this girl and can’t stop talking about it. “I’m so sorry. That was a bit... too much wasn’t it? I’m just stressed.” She considers sitting down but decides not to. It’s better to just pretend that nothing of this happened.

Looking out to the door again, she can’t find whoever she’s supposed to meet and it gets more and more embarrassing every minute. But the girl invites her to stay, and she is polite enough to decline. “Oh no, don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

But before she can take a single step away, she receives a text, saying that Amanda will be late. Hell. 

“Takes one to know one,” Daniel grinned, not letting the jab get to him. It was to be expected. “By all means.” He opened the door to let her inside first and then lead them through the outer office and into his private office. The noise of his bustling staff a gentle hum reminding him of all that was on his agenda for the day. But he could spare a few minutes for the Minority Whip. Professional courtesy. Still, he was beginning to feel like the victim of a targeted attack by every blonde representative. First Hartley and now Beauregard. “What’s on your mind?” 

“You know me so well, Daniel.” She mocks, pulling up a chair and sitting right across him. His attention was high commodity right now and she is glad that he can spare a couple of minutes to her. 

“I didn’t come to talk about this horrendous bill, don’t worry about it. We’re screwed about it already.” They have been friends for so long that she feels that she owes him even if just the tiniest bit of honest. There is nothing much he can do with that information anyway. He has probably been hearing the same whispers anyway. 

“The day we kiss our freedoms goodbye, is it?” William stood in front of the television that was airing the vote on the Disarmament Bill, which still seemed to be underway. He was unnaturally calm, looking up at the screen with crossed arms - due, if nothing else to the amount of painkillers he had downed in an attempt to survive the stress, though his irritation was still at the back of his mind. “If the damned thing passes, I can only imagine what’s next. Freedom of speech?”

Adelaide rolled her eyes, knowing that this time would be the last straw, and they would pop out of her skull. Sure, she was upset with the vote, but at least they had majority in the Senate, this would be their part of the good news. Still, William Bell treated as if he was being personally assaulted. She was almost starting to agree with that idea that guns were the synthetic extension of the penis. 

The last couple months had certainly had their way of shaking up his past and depositing a few old but familiar faces at his feet. They weren’t all quite as friendly a face as Adelaide. That’s what he would assume, she had said it was for . old times’ sake after all, so it must just be a friendly visit. 

“I’m so glad you have, it’s been too long,” he expressed, leaning over to wrap her in a large hug. There’s wasn’t a relationship easily explained. Not without a piece of paper and some markers to map out the linkages. But his lasting affection for her represented what she had shown him previously and the strangely amicable conclusion of his marriage. At least in what he knew happened. There was no sense that he had to have complete distance from anyone he had met through his ex-wife. “Please come inside for a coffee if you have the time,” he asked, stuffing his notecards into the inside of his suit pocket.

“Oh, of course.” He was so much taller and larger than her that she feels that this must be what it feels like to be hugged by a bear. If they were soft and slightly dumb, but with a good big heart. Sadly, Adelaide never believed TJ was really that smart, but at least she was willing to give him a chance. Maybe the future of her country laid on that.

“I would love to sit down and have a chat with TJ, the presidential candidate.” She says the last few words with some kind of reverence, as if they are grand in their own right.  

OPEN STARTER / cbcstarters.

                    The streets of D.C.  were swarming with tourists, and the occasional local, clawing their way through the crowds to catch a glimpse of the woman who’d inspired inexpressible interest and unfathomable vitriol in the 70s as she made the short walk from her limousine to the Four Seasons lobby. As deliberation on the Disarmament Bill roused a similar level of clashing opinions, long - time activist Yoko Ono made the trip to D.C. to advocate on behalf of gun control – harnessing her own husband’s death to stake her claim. iI wasn’t altogether unusual to see a celebrity in the city, though hers was a presence that made waves - and made it near impossible to hail a cab.

Glancing to another victim of the pandemonium, Luka lent a sympathetic look.  ❛  Almost forty years since Lennon’s death, and we’re still splitting hairs over the same argument.  ❜  He pocketed his phone,  eyes narrowing in thinly - veiled annoyance,  ❛ Hell – we’ll be waiting all night at this rate.   ❜

Why she had gone out with Senator St. James was a question as good as any, but the issue was another and far worse. They were now stuck, waiting for the crowd to realize that Yoko Ono doesn’t care about them.  “This was a bad idea altogether, don’t you think? We could have had lunch somewhere closer.”

In the wake of this gun bill, he’d wanted to devise some comprehensive strategy to combat it with his fellow Republicans. So far, he’s been unimpressed with their efforts. Does he have to do everything himself? He’s only half-listening over the phone as he looked over some budget numbers. “I’m still here,” he confirmed, wondering how a person could possibly forget their keys. “Do you want me to send over an intern with your keys to your location?” He’s reluctant to waste his time and go himself. And that’s why you had interns; to do all of the trivial things.

“No, I’m coming back.” She offers straight away. There is no way she’s waiting until one of Silas’ interns come to her. Considering how much they probably hate the man, they might “loose her keys” on the way. 

“You know, Franklin D. Roosevelt commissioned for the Jefferson memorial to be in direct view of the Oval Office?” Joan hummed, her cell phone resting in her hand; a leg resting over the other. Directly across from the Jefferson memorial, the brunette smiled to herself. “Not only a Founding Father, but one of the direct founders of the Democratic Party. Or what the Democratic Party would become. ” She looked over to her companion, her right foot moving in a circle. “President Wright was our second Democratic leader to be assassinated,” She said quietly to herself, looking at the water for a second before lifting her head. “Although it seems Republicans have taken the lead there.” 

June 30th, the Washington Monument. The type of irony that had gone lost on Hans until it was all those around him could talk about — Two months without Wright; What now? —, thinking over the event as he made through his coffee a hundred-or-so feet away from where it had all happened. 

He catches sight of a passerby; the two of them the only souls out this early — 6:32, to be exact —, in the now eerie side of town. 

“Happy Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead day,” he says, smiling too bright for a reminder of cold-blooded murder. “How’re you celebrating?”

She knew his face, but couldn’t attach it to a name. Her Chief of Staff probably would, this was her job anyway. But he reached to her, in gleeful joy. Adelaide was far from a Wright supporter, but this was just.... excessive.

No, no name still. He was a lobbyist, and by that Adelaide could already create a full — and disgusting — picture of who he was. Is he the Big Pharma boy? She wondered, thinking that all of this confidence must be backed out by billions of dollars. Sadly, they forgot to pay extra for charisma.

Alexi was well-versed in the best course of action to not get shot. It felt almost laughable to be worried about a suburban mom murdering him and he was sure that if it came to it, he could beat her in a fight. He might be advancing in age, but he made sure that he wouldn’t go down that easily. He watched her with a knife in her hand, remaining as still as possible. He wondered about the irony that he had a better idea of how the Republicans felt about the gun bill than the Democrats and by extension, the very own administration that he was working for. Did Julian Berkeley not trust him to help? Or thought of him as simply too unimportant? Both mistakes, though he knew that was in part his own ego talking. “I imagine that if this gets through it’ll be a blow to the Republicans.” He took a brief look around the room as she prepared things, eventually drawn by talk about the president. Her opinion of Julian Berkeley was blunt, though he’s sure that many Republicans felt the same way, though wouldn’t say such a thing in public. Alexi, with his own streak of opportunism and cynicism, wasn’t so harsh on Julian’s course of action. And really, how many if they were in his shoes would do the same? Setting up his reelection. “And what would be the right move? You don’t think Theresa would have wanted comprehensive gun reform?” The question is asked to provoke thought, rather a fight. He merely wanted to pick her brain. He’s sure that anyone who’d been killed, in hindsight, would say they would have preferred for things to have not led to that.

She moves in her kitchen, almost forgetting to be defensive about the strange man she just let into her house. “I think Theresa would have picked her own gun and shot Berkeley for proposing that.” She puts the knife down and opens the fridge. She had been saying that ever since Berkeley first came out with this proposal, and every single moment it just became clearer that she was right.

“And I have to say he’s just pushing away the moderate Republicans further and further away.” This is obviously based on her own side of the fence. More and more Republicans, who were supportive of Wright, precisely for her stance on guns, seemed less and less eager to support whatever the hell Berkeley would come up with next. And to be quite honest, Adelaide was delighted at that thought.

Juliette hadn’t driven to Adelaide’s house in awhile, but she still remembered the way.  The roads were familiar and when she pulled up and saw Adelaide sitting on the steps, she smiled a little.  She came closer, but not close enough.

Juliette removed her keys from the ignition and got out of the car.  She came closer, offering Adelaide a small smile before handing over the keys.  “It’s no problem,” she told her reassuringly.  “I couldn’t very well leave you stranded out here.”  But Adelaide offered for her to come in and Juliette thought back on what she had to do for the rest of the day.  Honestly, none of it sounded particularly appealing.  

“Sure,” Juliette finally replied.  “I can come in for a bit.  I don’t really want to dive right back into reading through lobbying proposals again.  At least not quite yet.”

“Oh, they are always giving you a hard time, aren’t them?” If Adelaide was being honest, Juliette was much better at dealing with lobbyists than her own staff. Well, that and the fact that Adelaide was too easily manipulated by them.

She walks up the stairs and unlocks the door. She feels relief that she is finally inside, but it feels even better that Juliette is with her. “I do think you need a break, I keep telling Todd that.” She gestures for her to get in. They had been close for many years now; Adelaide’s husband working side by side with Juliette’s boss. An odd link, of course, but it was better, not many suspicions were raised because of that. 

“We are a nation of dreamers who have been forbidden from dreaming…we are a nation of dreamers….we are nation of dreamers…”

The same line, repeated out loud, over and over to himself, shoes slapping the pavement with each syllable. It was just weeks out from TJ’s campaign launch and he already driven himself into a frenzy trying to get his speech absolutely perfect. It was his first introduction to the political world, hurled into the largest and brightest arena with nothing but some clichéd speechwriter drivel as cover. He’d rather have a 300lb linesman to protect him but here he was. ‘We are a nation-’ he has just begun again when he felt eyes on him.

“I realise this makes me look a little crazy, I promise I wasn’t talking to myself.”

He was outside the TJ Foundation, talking to himself like a madman, and all she could do was smile. It was far from official yet, but Adelaide had connections enough to know the right people to visit, because there were rumours that they would be submitting TJ — him of all people — as a presidential candidate. And she wanted to see that for herself.

A gathering of reporters circled around the Speaker, microphones and cameras shoved in his face. This was the energy he thrived on and loved with every fiber of his being. “No, a vote has not been scheduled in the House for the Disarmament Act but that is not a reflection of my confidence in it,” he said in response to a journalist before getting another question thrown his way. “Anyone who says this is politicizing the horrific assassination of President Wright should be ashamed of themselves. This isn’t about politics, it’s about saving American lives. Real, effective gun control legislation is long overdue in this country.” He was truly proud to be a part of making that happen.

“That’s it for today folks, thanks.” With a wave to the crowd, Daniel turned to enter the Capitol building.

Adelaide waited for Daniel at the door of his office, receiving all of the weird looks from his staff. At least they couldn’t claim she had never been here before, because she spent considerable time bugging Daniel on what should be voted, and trying to get him to change the schedule to favor her. Far from friendship, Adelaide liked to think that they matched at some civility.

Cherry red fingernails curled around the glass of cold rosé as her eyes scanned the menu of the bar looking for something, anything that would fit into her current diet (2019 was the year of keto). Sure it was barely noon but given the fact that she was up at 2am this morning to workout before needing to be in at 3:30am for work, this was Rose’s happy hour. “I’ll take the buffalo cauliflower, extra carrots and celery” she said to the bartender with a smile. “And another glass please.” She was working her way through this second one at a rapid pace that could only be the work of a woman whose mother took a drink every time she thought her husband wasn’t watching.

Her eyes locked on a patron down the bar and she gave them a small smile before turning her attention to her IG comment section. People weren’t particularly pleased with Wake Up Washington’s coverage this morning of the proposed gun bill. And frankly, Rose was sick of talking about it. She’d rather speculate wildly about who would announce their 2020 candidacy next.

Meetings during lunch were Adelaide least favorite type of meals. Generally, it was too stressing to focus on speaking or eating and it always had her jumping to the worst decisions. But her schedule was insanity and she figured that it was better to take this than not at all.

She touches the woman on the shoulder, “Sorry, are you Amanda?” and Adelaide examines her face, squinting, trying to see if she looked anything familiar. “I schedule a lunch meeting and the photo looks a lot like you, but—” She looks at the woman alone at the bar and then checks the phone again, and while they are both white and blonde — like most of D.C. — they really look nothing alike. 

He can’t help but notice, and he doesn’t think it took a master of espionage to see it, that somehow her bag was fuller now than it was when she’d entered her house. He wondered what the point of inviting him into her house was if she felt threatened, but… people were funny like that. He took the offered seat. “No, I don’t live here,” he confirmed, wondering if she was the type of person who would bake him a welcoming pie or something. “Just visiting a friend.” He doesn’t elaborate any further than that. “Can’t imagine how busy you are right now,” he continued, switching subjects, “what with the president’s gun bill.” He took a knowing glance back at her bag. “I imagine the Republicans are fighting very hard to stop it. It’ll come down to the Senate, hm?” That was where they held the majority, after all.

She turns her back to him, but her ears are listening to every possible suspicious sound.

He tries to engage in small talk and she sees herself forced to reply to him. “It’s been a lot.” She concedes, and then turn to him, with a knife in her hand — the bread being sliced in front of her. “The moderate vote is very....” she tilts her head to the side, searching for the perfect word.

“Gullible?” She tried the word, testing it, unsure if it was fit. Sure, the moderates weren’t that great for the party, but how could she complain about them when she had been one of those for the most of her career?

It doesn’t hit her that the mention of the gun debate isn’t coincidental, because this has been the only topic of conversation in her life for weeks now. That and Wright’s tragic death. “I think we can still put up a fight, however,” she turns back to her bread. “Next week it’s favor-calling season, so we see how that will go.”