At Your Service, Madam President by Tracey Richardson

At Your Service, Madam President by Tracey Richardson

Author:Tracey Richardson [Richardson, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2016-04-12T22:00:00+00:00


* * *

Over his morning coffee, Senator David Hartfield watched the CNN newscaster going on ad nauseam about the President’s upcoming visit to Chicago to attend the funeral of the young sisters gunned down in their schoolyard.

It sickened him that Jane Kincaid would use their deaths for political currency. Was there no decency, no decorum among this country’s leaders anymore? How could the president stoop so low to make a political point about gun control? And in Chicago of all places? Chicago was his town, the place of his greatest victories and his most harrowing personal defeat. She was kicking him in the goddamn balls. Shitting in his nest. The nerve!

“Christ, I need something besides coffee in this damned cup!” he directed towards the open door of his assistant’s adjoining office.

The slender young man was the extra dollop of sugar in your coffee that was enough to make it sickly sweet. Jackson Harrow, perfectly groomed as always, scurried efficiently and eagerly into his office, a bottle of Irish whisky in his hand.

“Senator, let me fix that coffee for you.” With a delicate turn of the wrist, he poured a couple of ounces into the steaming cup, his syrupy smile never wavering.

“Thank you, Jackson. Can you believe that woman?” Hartfield pointed at the television and the image of Jane Kincaid rushing up the steps to Air Force One. He took a large swallow of his whisky-fueled coffee. “Is there nothing she won’t stoop to?”

“Apparently not, sir.”

Jackson Harrow and his obsequious, cloying attention, was suddenly too much for Hartfield to bear. “Thank you. Now off you go.” A curt wave of his hand dismissed the young man. “Wait!” Hartfield called out. He liked keeping him off balance, testing his patience and loyalty whenever the whim occurred to him.

“Yes, Senator?” A head of dark of perfectly gelled hair peeked around the door.

“I want you to scour the news around the country. Find me someone who recently had to use a gun to defend themselves or their family. A success story. Something that puts this piece-of-crap PR move by the President in perspective.”

“You got it, Senator.”

Hartfield drank more coffee, loosened his tie as the alcohol relaxed him. He could play this game too, this grandstanding bullshit that appealed to people’s emotions. A counterattack was exactly what he needed, and orchestrating his own little PR stunt would only be the beginning. Yes, he thought with fresh satisfaction. Jane Kincaid would be in the battle of her life if she thought he was going to roll over and play dead with this gun control bill. He damned well knew this country a lot better than she and her bleeding heart liberals did. They didn’t know shit.

“Jackson! I need another refill of this damned stuff.”



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