Yes, Mr President - Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks to Karie (SweetVenom69), my super beta :)

~*~

Fuck my life, Bella thought angrily as she squinted in the early morning light, fuck my fucking life.

 Isabella Swan’s reactions to the events of the previous night were quite unlike that of the partying Democrats and overwhelmed Edward Cullen. While he had had his fingers crossed for his own name to be read out, Bella was praying for James Hunter. Not that she liked James Hunter; not by any stretch of the imagination. It was just that she disliked Edward Cullen a little more.

Maybe dislike was the wrong word, she mused. It was more like an intense, burning desire to see his mutilated corpse thrown into the pits of Hades; the way she felt towards the new President. Yes, that was putting it nicely, she thought to herself.

As she turned on her side and threw her duvet over her head, she wondered why she had even agreed to another term when she knew full well there was a chance he would be working alongside her. Why, why, why? she thought as she thumped her pillow. Why was she so stupid?

Deciding that sleep had well and truly evaded her out the slowly brightening window, Bella swung her feet onto the floor. Combing through her sleep induced fuzz; she walked to her bathroom mirror and peered blearily at her reflection. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders determinedly. Edward Cullen be damned, she thought, she was Bella Swan, she could do anything. Pulling on some running shorts and a singlet top, Bella left her bad mood behind her and jogged out of her Georgetown house.

The air was still fresh and a slight breeze was blowing along the tops of her oak tree lined suburban street. Taking a right, Bella ran through the day’s agenda. Today was the President’s first day in office. The moving van with his necessary belongings would arrive at the White House at 6am, but would not need to be unloaded until 7:30am which was when she would arrive to oversee the furniture placement. A personal staff had not yet been arranged for President Cullen, who had requested to oversee the hiring process himself. As part of the permanent White House staff, Bella had grumbled and scowled when she heard this news. That meant it would fall to her, and only her, to prepare just about everything for the President’s arrival. He would be arriving at the White House at 8am sharp. Bella would make a point of being there to officially welcome him inside. Warmly welcome him, she emphasized to herself, warmly.

Stopping at a park bench to stretch out her hamstrings, Bella’s thoughts turned to the President himself. Class valedictorian of The Bush School 1998 graduating class, captain of the swim and track team; Edward Cullen was a rising star from the very beginning. Accepted until nearly every university under the sun, he had chosen to follow in his father’s footsteps and studied Law and Politics at Harvard. Again, he graduated top of his class in 2002 and joined the Democratic Party only a month later. After a six year term as a party member in Washington, Cullen had set his sights on a higher goal. He joined the Presidential campaign soon after. The rest, as they say, is history, Bella thought wryly to herself.

As she sprinted down the final hill of Archbold Parkway Park that marked the end of her morning run, Bella embraced her burning muscles and pushed against the image of Edward Cullen, pounding her trainers into the pavement as if she were pounding them into his stupid, goofy smirk.

~*~

“No, the President wants the redwood side table in his private study, not his bedroom!” Bella barked at the idiotic mover who was completely ignoring the list of finely detailed furniture placement instructions the President’s campaign manager had sent through, along with his dietary requirements, exercise regime and list of jobs that needed to be completed before his arrival in less than one hour. Tapping her black Jimmy Choo pumps against the ground, Bella let out an exaggerated huff as the removalist ever so slowly transported the final box of personal items out of the moving truck.

“Finally!” she muttered under her breath as the last removalist clumped his big black boots out of the pristinely cleaned foyer. Pulling out her Blackberry she quickly dialled the Chief Usher.

“Ralph, it’s Bella. Can you send a cleaner to the foyer ay-sap? The removalists have dragged a whole heap of dirt inside and the President’s campaign manager will be arriving any moment now to oversee the President’s arrival,” she asked before listening to the Usher’s response, “Thanks, Ralph.”

Jasper Whitlock, the President’s campaign manager, was a well-known Democrat from Seattle, who had relocated to Washington with the President in 2008. He had learned under Carlisle Cullen, the President’s father, and had been partnered with the President Cullen ever since he had joined the party in 2006.

Jasper and Bella had accidentally met in person for the first time the previous day; a meeting which Bella regretted and was still embarrassed over, as a consequence of her less than accommodating behaviour. Lost in her musings, she turned a corner and ran smack bang into something. A hard something.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, cupping her throbbing forehead.

“Woah,” came the twang of a deep Southern voice, “Are you alright there, miss?”

Looking up, her face flushing pink, Bella realized she hadn’t run into something; she had run in to someone. Not only someone, but Jasper Whitlock. As ruggedly handsome as he was, the man was an ass by association. As the President’s campaign manager, Jasper had hounded Bella repeatedly with emails and instructions for the President’s imminent arrival. Her apologetic face merged into a scowl and the tightening around Jasper’s eyes told her that he was no happier to see her, than she was to see him.

“Miss Swan,” he said tersely. “How are you?”

“Fine, thank you Mr Whitlock,” Bella replied, giving her forehead a rub. “I trust everything is as you requested?” she queried, sarcasm and disdain coating her words.

“Yes, Edward will be very pleased. I’m actually on my way to the West Wing, so if you don’t mind,” he replied before taking walking away from Bella.

She couldn’t help but feel affronted by Jasper’s brush-off and stilted reply; even if she knew she deserved it. Their first meeting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

“I’m sorry, can I help you with something Mr. Whitlock?” she said primly; completing ignoring his statement and unspoken request to explain herself.

Jasper’s face twisted into a confused frown. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you about-”

“No, I’m afraid you can’t. I’m extremely busy at the moment.” God, I’m such a bitch, Bella thought to herself. She would just email the information she had wanted to tell him.

Now his eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “Is there something I can clear up for you, Miss Swan?”

She let her expression remain blank, as if she were speaking at a press conference. “Let me assure you, Mr. Whitlock, there is nothing left to clear up. Everything is crystal,” Bella replied before haughtily storming off to her car.

Bella stared at Jasper’s retreating back and sighed. He had begun walking towards the East Wing.

“Um, Mr. Whitlock?” Bella called, “The West Wing is this way,” she said indicating in the opposite direction.

Jasper looked embarrassed and Bella sighed again. He clearly had no idea. “I was actually headed that way myself, would you like me to show you where everything is?”

He gave her a forced smile and nodded.

The silence between them as they walked was thick with tension and awkwardness. Bella knew she had earned her reputation as a hard-ass but she was a nice person, really. She did what she had to do to survive in the testosterone-dominated world of politics. How could she expect them to understand what she did was to protect herself?

She was relieved when they finally reached the end of the West Colonnade and entered the first floor of the West Wing. Desperate to fill the silence, Bella began the standard tour speech.

“So this is the first floor of the West Wing. Through that door,” she said indicating right, “are the press; their briefing room, offices and kitchen.” Rounding the corner, they reached her office, “This is my office and directly across here is the Cabinet Room.” Indicating again to the right, “Down there is the Lobby and the main entrance,” she said, “and of course down here is the Oval Office. The President’s secretary has an office between Cabinet and the Oval Office.” They rounded the corner and Bella pointed out the various rooms, “Through that wall is the President’s private study and dining room, through that door is the Roosevelt Room, Senior Advisers and here,” she said, stopping at the end of the corridor, “is the Chief of Staff’s office. The Vice President and National Security Adviser are down the hall.” They had stopped outside Jasper’s office; the personalized sign on the door already claiming it as his.

“Thank you, Miss Swan,” Jasper replied honestly as he reached for the door.

“Please, call me Bella,” she said, sweeping stray strands of hair from her eyes. “If you have any questions, you know where my office is,” she said, before turning and hurrying down the hall, desperate to escape Jasper’s burning stare.

Walking inside his new office and closing the door behind him, it occurred to Jasper that maybe Isabella Swan wasn’t so bad after all.

~*~

A/N: Thanks everyone for the amazing response I got from the last chapter :) Especially from the ladies at Twilighted who flooded my inbox after the prologue and chapter one went up last week. But sorry for the update fail – kind, lovely people wanted to wine and dine me for my birthday on Thursday and I just couldn’t refuse!

I love the White House; it’s my favourite part of the research for this story :) Bella’s not really a hard-ass, she’s just misunderstood. She likes Jasper and she’s thinking he might not be that bad but trust me; this is no Jasper/Bella story.

I promise you, they will meet in the next chapter and in the chapter after that, we will find out why Bella hates Edward so much! This week the teaser is featured on my blog – if you head to my profile and click the ‘BLOG’ link it will take you straight there. I will try my best to reply to any questions or concrit I receive in reviews! Thank you so much again :)

Chapter 5 Pic Tease

Yes, Mr President - Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thanks be to Karie (SweetVenom69), who is not only my super awesome grammar and spelling ninja, but my incredibly smart and knowledgeable math beta! I’d be a pulsating mess without you, bb! ;) Also big thanks to Burntcore for her government/election advice :)

~*~

Jasper smiled wanly and rolled his eyes before pulling out his Blackberry. “Will a pizza fix this little mood you’re in?”

Edward’s face lit up with a little kid’s grin and Jasper pressed ‘call’.  

“We’re ready for you, sir,” a female called from the main door of Edward’s waiting room.

He jumped from the couch and stood in front of the small mirror above the vanity unit. He refrained himself from cheering with glee; he was finally free of the dreaded room. After lunch he had managed to work through the stack of files Jasper had left and a whole medium sized pizza which had satiated his hunger nicely. He smoothed down his fresh, Alice-approved suit and tie with a smile and happily walked out of the fondly nicknamed ‘holding cell’.

As Edward jauntily strolled out of the building he spotted Jasper, who looked significantly tired and at his wit's end, throwing his hands up in the air and talking in hushed whispers with a brown haired woman. She was glaring angrily at him and Edward watched as she threw her hands up exasperatedly and stormed off in the direction of a waiting car.

Edward jogged down the remaining steps and placed a hand on Jasper, who wheeled around in surprise.

“Hey Jazz, who was that?”

“Ugh, no one you want to know, trust me,” he replied darkly.

“It didn’t look like things were going well between you two,” Edward said lightly, subtly trying to weasel any scrap of information from his campaign manager.

“You got that right. She’ll be your press secretary if all goes well tonight,” he huffed, “All the more to you if you can manage to wrangle her, Edward.” His tone was ominous and filled Edward with a strong feeling of foreboding.

Oh God, Edward thought, being locked up in that room has turned me loopy. What could be ominous and foreboding about a press secretary? He chuckled to himself for being so silly. He was, almost certainly, about to be named President of the United States. He could handle a little stress and a fiery Press Secretary. He smiled and walked, surrounded by his Secret Service escort, to the waiting car which would take him to his future. 

~*~
 

“Mr. Cullen! Mr. Cullen!” The press were worse here, creating a 100 people-strong crowd around the black Chrysler which had driven Edward and Jasper to the White House. Edward stepped out of the Town Car and into a small pocket of secured space, created by the Secret Service agents assigned to protect him. The pulsating masses had Edward's heart racing as he and Jasper were led through the tightly pressed bodies; their anticipation and excitement was contagious. They were ushered through the flock of supporters and into a back entrance which, in turn, led to another small room, similar to the one that had ensnared Edward for the best part of the day.

It was unfortunate that the parties had had to move their operations to the White House but a serious security threat on the Republicans during the campaign had resulted in increased Secret Service representation and a tightening of protection around the potential Presidents. They were allowed fewer members and supporters in the House during the announcements and there was a blanket ban on media crews and reporters.

“Oh Jasper,” Edward groaned, “Please don’t tell me I have to stay in here.”

“Calm down, it’s just for hair and makeup.” Edward paled. “Don’t give me that face, Edward, you’re going to be on T.V, you know how it works.”

“But Jasper...” Edward started to whine, tousling his hair. “They’ll try and do something with my hair. You remember what happened last time!”

Jasper just rolled his eyes and ushered in a pair of beauticians who each assessed Edward’s face with a critical eye before barking instructions to each other in Russian.

“I’ll be back in half an hour, Edward. Don’t cause a scene,” Jasper warned before leaving the room.

Edward looked hesitantly at the two women who were standing in front of him, brushes and face creams raised threateningly.

~*~

“Oh my word, don’t you look pretty!”

“Jake!” Edward cried, spinning around happily to face his running mate, Jacob Black, before registering his words and assuming a scowl. “Why aren’t you all dolled up like this?”

“I have natural beauty apparently,” he said, patting his cheeks jokingly.

Edward rolled his eyes. “How’s it looking so far?” he asked, his tone now serious.

"The polls still say we'll take Indiana, but we can't count on that until we get the official votes. Florida, Kentucky, I don’t know. We can’t expect any results from Vermont until after 9pm. They’ll get their shit together, always do,” Jake replied. Edward waited for him to go on.

Jacob gave him a knowing glance, before zipping his lips. Edward sighed and looked at his watch. “Have you come to take me to Jasper?”

“Yep, I’ve got strict orders to make sure that you walk through those doors at 5:55pm sharp, so we better get going.”

“Well, let’s go!” said Edward eagerly, with a quick, cautious look back at the Russians who were glaring back at their unfinished work on his face.

Since the press weren’t allowed within the House, the journey to the room candidates were allocated for election night was quiet. Edward was in a hurry to get in the midst of things; that was where he thrived. Bursting through the doors, Edward was greeted by thunderous applause from all the volunteers who momentarily stopped their work to thank and encourage their leader. Edward was humbled by their intense display of devotion.

“Thank you for your support and hard work. This, I, am nothing without you,” Edward called out to them quickly with a nod of his head before hurrying over to join Jasper. Jasper was standing in front of a large plasma screen television, intently watching the election night broadcast, hosted by Richard Jones.

“What’s happening?” Edward asked quietly.

“He’s about to cross to Indiana,” Jasper replied shortly.

A short volunteer with a large clipboard and set of headphones heard Jasper’s words and started calling out frantically for quiet.

“We are now joined by our live reporter in Indiana. Elizabeth, we believe they are about cast their vote?”

“Good evening, Richard. Yes, it does look like Indiana will cast their vote, but we do know that traditionally the initial count will be too close to call. I believe the Senator has...yes,” the reporter nodded in agreement with the person on the other end of her headset, “Indiana has called that their vote is too close to call at this stage,” she said into the camera.

A collective, exasperated sigh erupted from the silent room as people turned to each other to exchange worried looks about the closeness of the election so early in the night.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Edward,” Jasper said comfortingly as he placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder.

“I know,” said Edward simply, before turning back to the broadcast.

“Well, an expected call from Indiana, we now cross to Kentucky,” Richard said.

“Yes, Richard, Kentucky has also called the vote too close to split at this stage,” the man reported from outside a Town Hall building in Kentucky. This time people had not even bothered to stop working to hear that there was no good news.

“Thank you, Chris. While we were visiting that broadcast, we also received word that Florida has also not closed their vote, so we will be revisiting them later in the broadcast as well,” Richard said.

Jasper clenched his fist and turned away from the screen.

“Wait! It seems that we have a result!” Richard cried excitedly. Jasper’s sharp intake of breath echoed around the room as it had become deadly silent while everyone focused on the incoming live feed.

“We have a result from Vermont! Lucy, can you tell us what has happened in Vermont?” Richard called into the camera.

“Yes Richard, Vermont has called for James Hunter! Vermont has voted for the Republican, James Hunter!” A collective groan erupted from the room. Edward ran his hand through his hair nervously.

The lady with the large headset and clipboard pulled out a megaphone that had appeared from nowhere, calling out to the disheartened volunteers,

“Come on people! Let’s keep it together, we still have time! Pick up those phones and get people voting for Cullen! Cullen! Cullen!” she cried enthusiastically, trying to start a chant. Unfortunately for Edward’s embarrassment, people decided to catch on and soon the room was cheering happily and shouting, “Cullen! Cullen!” Thankfully, Jasper waved his hands for them to quiet down as Richard was coming back on the air.

“Welcome back, viewers. If you’re just joining us this evening, Vermont has registered their vote for James Hunter and so far no votes for Edward Cullen and the Democrats. We will now be rejoined by our live reporter in Kentucky. How is it going down there?”

“Well, Richard, in a surprising vote, Kentucky has called for Cullen with...,” the rest of the reporter’s spiel was interrupted by the jubilant roar of the volunteers and Jasper, who punched the air excitedly and letting out an exultant gruff shout. Edward smiled happily, looking around and basking in the joy. He was suddenly overcome by an immense feeling of pride; with his party and within himself. Before he started getting all emotional, Edward turned back to the television screen. A different reporter was talking to the screen, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Grabbing the megaphone off the lady with the head set, who was currently sobbing all over an awkward looking Jasper, Edward turned on the siren switch.

After the volunteers had sufficiently quietened down, Edward switched on the speaker, “Thank you everyone for your support but I think another result is about to be called,” he said before flicking it off and handing it back to the lady. She snatched it back possessively, her tears of joy for Edward’s victory forgotten the moment he had taken her prized megaphone. Chuckling to himself, Edward turned back to the television.

“Yes Richard, Cullen is currently leading the votes 8 to 3. West Virginia will announce, oh yes, it appears that...Yes! Cullen has also claimed West Virginia!” the reporter cried, the result coming through midway through her address.

“Thank you, Anne,” said Richard as the vision returned to him in the studio, “Currently, Cullen leads James, 13 to 3. We now cross to South Carolina with Sandy.”

“Hello, Richard. This evening South Carolina has called for Cullen as their man. He now leads the votes 21 to 3.” The night wore on and the votes began to come in hard and fast.

“Good evening, Richard. Tonight, Connecticut calls for Cullen!”

“Our smallest state, Delaware has called for Cullen!”

“Richard! D.C. wants Cullen!”

“Illinois votes for Cullen!”

“Maine has called for Cullen, Richard. He now leads the votes 59 to 3; it doesn’t look as if James is going anywhere tonight.”

“Maryland for Cullen!”

“Massachusetts for Cullen!”

“And for only the second time tonight, New Hampshire goes to Hunter!”

“Again, James gets New Jersey!” 

“Oklahoma wants Cullen!” 

“Cullen gets Tennessee!” 

“Richard, Cullen has won Pennsylvania!” 

“Not a surprise for Arkansas! The state has gone to Hunter!” 

“Alabama has gone for Hunter!”

“Richard, Kansas has called for James Hunter!” 

“The strong surge for Hunter continues, Richard, with Michigan finally calling for the Republican!” 

“Minnesota falls to Hunter!” 

“New York, in a harsh blow for Cullen, calls for Hunter!” 

“Rhode Island becomes a small victory for Cullen!”

“Texas wants Hunter!” 

“Finally some good news for Cullen in Wisconsin!”

“Wyoming wants Cullen!”

“Georgia for James Hunter!” 

“A big win for Cullen in Ohio!” 

“Another win for the Democrats in Louisiana!” 

“Hunter takes New Mexico! The votes now stand at 166 to Cullen and with the help of a late surge, 155 to James. This is shaping up to be the tightest race in history, Richard!”

“Mississippi has gone to Hunter; he's closing the gap.” 

“Iowa extends Cullen's lead!” 

“North Dakota calls for Hunter!” 

“Utah votes for Cullen!”

“South Dakota also goes to Hunter!”

“And now, the vote that is sure to put either party in reach of the win, California! California has gone to 
Cullen!” 

“Hawaii goes to Cullen, as well!”

“It looks as if Cullen will go for the win as Idaho calls for Cullen!” 

“Oregon wants Cullen!”

“Cullen’s home state, Washington votes for their favorite son!” 

 
“Nebraska calls for Cullen!”

“In an upset, Florida has voted for Hunter!” 

 “Arizona has fallen to Hunter!”

“In a late bid for the victory, Colorado has voted for Hunter!” 

“And Nevada calls for Hunter!”

“Alaska, in a very late vote, has called for Hunter!” 

“Indiana calls for Hunter!” 

“Montana wants Hunter!”

“North Carolina calls for Hunter.” 

“And the penultimate vote is in from Missouri. They have voted for Hunter!” 

“Well, America,” Richard began, “It has been a close race all night and in a never before seen event, the scores are tied. There is five deciding votes from the fine folks in Virginia. We will now join Rita in Virginia where the deciding vote is about to be cast. Rita, how are things shaping up down there?”

“Good evening, Richard, I can tell you for certain that the eyes of the United States are firmly fixed upon Virginia tonight, as our government officials count and recount the votes to ensure that the final vote reflects the true intentions of our great state,” said the reporter. “We can expect the vote any minute...wait! Yes, it appears we have an official result! We will now cross live to the Town Hall where the election official will officially announce the winner of the greatest race America has ever seen!”

“My fellow Americans,” the election official from Richmond, Virginia began, “I believe it falls to me to announce the fate of two fine, honourable gentlemen, both who have had the opportunity to present themselves as the worthiest applicant for the most important job in the United States of America. The single vote that will decide whose name will go down in history books, whose name will be remembered forever more, whose name will be on the lips of all Americans tonight, is here, in this envelope.”

Edward groaned; the election official liked to talk. He would be lapping up every moment of his fifteen minutes of fame, meanwhile, Edward teetered on the brink of sanity cliff; the one that stood before the abyss of madness. Edward ran his hand through his already tousled hair.

“So, to the owner of the name that I hold here in my hand, let me be the first to congratulate you, sir. It is the great honour of the Commonwealth of Virginia, the 10th state in the Union, to announce that it votes for,” the elected official boasted happily, ripping open the envelope, “Edward Cullen!”

The world was silent for Edward Cullen as the men and women of his party burst into noiseless triumphant cheers around him. Edward’s eyes left the television screen that played jubilant pictures of fellow Democrats celebrating their victory and turned to face Jasper who was excitedly high-fiving and hugging every volunteer who had abandoned their posts and had created an eager circle around both of the men.

When Jasper finally turned to congratulate Edward, it hit him. He had done it. He had beaten James, albeit by two votes, but he had done it. It was up to him now. Everything was up to him. Finally, his emotions caught up with him. Jasper threw his arms wide and Edward grabbed him around the waist. Edward could feel Jasper’s joyful tears splash against his cheek and Edward couldn’t help but laugh at his best friend. He grabbed Jasper’s shoulders and pulled them so Jasper could face him.

“We did it!” Edward cried elatedly.

“We did it!” Jasper managed to reply through his overwhelming emotions.

Edward turned to the volunteers, “We did it!” he hollered. They responded with ecstatic cries of repetition and Edward began to embrace everyone and anyone within an arm’s reach.

~*~

Not far away from where Edward Cullen was rejoicing, Bella Swan switched off her television set and leaned back in her chair. She pushed the heels of her hands against her face and groaned.

“Just fucking great.”

~*~

Yes, Mr President - Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

This is Bella’s story from the same day.

~*~

Bella Swan was not having a good day.

Scratch that, this was the worst day of her life.

It had not looked promising when she had braved the early morning drizzle for her daily run. As she ran it subsequently became a torrential downpour – the type that she had left behind in Forks, or so she had hoped – resulting in a slow time and several near broken ankles on the slippery grass.

It had looked foreboding when the heel of her favourite pair of slate grey pumps snapped as she walked down the stairs – another near miss for her unfortunate ankles. After she realized that there was no milk for her cereal, she began to curse the gods for choosing today of all days for everything to go wrong.

But, Bella was determined to not let anything get the best of her today. She needed to stay calm and level-headed. She was going to need all her faculties about her today. Calm and level-headed. It was her mantra today.

~*~

First on Bella’s agenda for the day was a press conference on behalf of the White House. It was purely a formality that was insisted upon, despite the fact that only a handful of people ever attended and even then the majority were bored rookies looking for the experience. Nothing got more on her nerves than when they snapped their gum and left their cell phones on loud. They had no respect for the integrity of White House media.

As she contemplated their blank stares and slack jaws, she struggled to maintain the tranquillity she had tried to muster on her morning commute. Calm and level-headed, she told herself again. Calm and level-headed.

At precisely nine in the morning she faithfully delivered her speech, displaying none of the irritability or boredom she felt. It was a skill that her colleagues admired her for and one that had made her one of the most sought after press and media experts in the industry.

It had surprised everyone when Bella had announced her intentions to study media and communications at college. They had not expected shy, quiet Bella to last five minutes under the spotlight of a camera, a recorder shoved up her nose.

But it was exactly there where Bella was in her element.

During the first public speaking class of her degree, the professor had, in an attempt to weed out the kids who were obviously way over their heads, picked on a petite brown-haired girl deliberately not making eye contact, and asked her to deliver a pre-prepared speech. Bella would not admit to anyone that even she had surprised herself when a wholly different Bella emerged when she took to the lecture and delivered the printed words in front of her with confidence and conviction.

The suitably taken aback professor had commended her and held her up as an example for the rest of the class. While she had body-blushed a flaming red as she took her seat, the experience had set her pulse on fire and the adrenaline pumping through her body. To this day, it was a high that she never got over.

From then on, Bella used her shyness to her advantage. Just as she had during that first class, she was often under-estimated and looked over, but when people saw her in front of the camera, they simply could not look away. She was captivating while managing to remain neutral on complex issues, could pull off any look and set the tone for any media appearance with ease.

After graduating college with honours, Bella was offered a job with the local mayor’s office where she thrived. By the next election she had worked her way to the top and successfully headed the press department, contributing majorly to his return to office. During her time with the mayor, she realized that it was within political media where she really wanted to work.

When she felt she could do no more in Boston, she moved herself to Washington D.C., which is, of course, the heart of American politics and its press. Bella quickly found work at a well-known financial firm which, while not politics, earned her a good reputation around town. When she was approached by the White House to head up their press department, it was a dream come true.

As she returned to her office in the West Wing, Bella contemplated the rest of her day. She would be attending the traditional lunch with the current outgoing President and White House staff. She had been asked to deliver a short speech detailing her time with the President; it was a great honour and she had spent a long time constructing a spiel that she thought was both touching and humorous.

Later, she had to visit the vying political parties before they moved their operations to the White House for the final count. She needed to brief their Chiefs of Staff on the procedure should their candidate win, and also the procedure should their candidate lose. There would be nothing worse than the next morning’s headlines screaming about a sore loser lashing out instead of an inspiring picture of the happy, waving new President.

Then, she would return to the White House and watch the broadcast of the final count until the name of the new President of the United States was announced. There would be a quick press conference congratulating the new President she would have to deliver but afterwards, her work would primarily entail preparation for the incoming President and his arrival.

And depending on the outcome of the night, Bella doubted that his arrival would be something she would be looking forward to.

~*~

The magic of Bella’s mantra was lessening. It hadn’t helped when the first candidate, James Hunter, had given her the sleaziest of looks and suggestive remarks that had made her skin crawl, and then when the chauffeured car blew out a tyre. Just fucking great, she had thought to herself. 

As the car approached Tudor Place in Georgetown, anxiety began to take over. That made Bella pissed. Why should she feel anxious and nervous about seeing him? He was a good-for-nothing douche who didn’t deserve the time of her day, let alone America’s.

She began recounting the reasons she had to hate him and by the time they stopped outside the crowded gates, Bella was fuming; her mantra long forgotten. As she pushed her way through the enthusiastic supporters, her anger flared as they cheered and catcalled excitedly for the very man that she hated with a passion.

Bella stopped outside the front steps and scrolled through her iPhone contacts until she reached Jasper Whitlock, her PR and Media contact within the Democratic Party. Just as she was about to press ‘call’, her phone began chirping its Kim Possible ringtone. While it might seem childish, Bella had loved the show as a child and today, wouldn’t change the channel if it happened to be on TV. She had always been enamoured with the naivety and uncomplicated happiness of children and she loved how entertained they could become with the simplest of characters and jokes. Their belief in the joy of pretty much everything was something she tried achieve herself.

Well, when she wasn’t trying to channel her anger away from physical violence, that is.

Angela Weber’s picture flashed on the screen and Bella breathed a relieved sigh. Finally, someone who could understand her rage. Angela, apart from Rosalie, was the only other person to know the entire story behind her resentment.

“Hey Ange,” she said happily.

“Hey Bella. How are you holding up?” Angela questioned knowingly.

“Not so good,” Bella admitted. “It’s just a little hard when everyone is so in love with him and all I want to do is wrap my hands around his throat,” she said through gritted teeth.

Angela didn’t speak for a moment, silently communicating to Bella that she was being slightly overdramatic.

“I know, Ange! It’s just...,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “It’s just really hard. Every time someone mentions him or I think about working for him, I remember everything that he did and how much hurt he caused and I just get so fucking mad!”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to be when you’re working with him? Seeing him every day, having to talk to him?”

“I swear to God, Ange, if that bastard wins tonight, I’ll quit,” Bella spat angrily into her phone.

“Surely he can’t be that bad. You’ve worked so hard to get this job,” Angela replied.

“Of course he is. You remember what I told you, right? He’s a class-A fucking dickhead.” Her phone buzzed with the calm voice of her friend. “Edward fucking Cullen can go to fucking hell. I hate him and I’m hoping like hell that he loses tonight. I-”

“Excuse me,” a Southern male voice came from behind her, followed by a tap on her shoulder. Bella whirled around in surprise before whispering, “Gotta go, talk to you later,” into her phone. She switched off her phone slowly and took her time looking the man in front of her in the eye.

“Mr. Whitlock,” Bella said, blushing while trying to control her expression. Jasper Whitlock was the candidate - Edward Cullen’s - best friend and campaign manager.

“Miss Swan.”

Her name carried many implications. His inquisitive and slightly disapproving look told her that he had heard everything she had said.

“Was that Edward you were just talking about? Surely he isn’t that bad...”

Ugh, Bella thought, that is so typical. Defend the bastard. I bet they have no fucking idea.

“I’m sorry, can I help you with something Mr. Whitlock?” she said primly; completing ignoring his statement and unspoken request to explain herself.

Jasper’s face twisted into a confused frown. “I was wondering if I could have a word with you about-”

“No, I’m afraid you can’t. I’m extremely busy at the moment.” God, I’m such a bitch, Bella thought to herself. She would just email the information she had wanted to tell him.

Now his eyes darkened and his voice lowered. “Is there something I can clear up for you, Miss Swan?”

She let her expression remain blank, as if she were speaking at a press conference. “Let me assure you, Mr. Whitlock, there is nothing left to clear up. Everything is crystal,” Bella replied before haughtily storming off to her car.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, she thought to herself. So much for calm and level-headed. I’ve never been that rude to anyone before. I thought I could keep it together so well. And now I’ve gone and lost it at the person who I could be working with for the next four years about the person who I might be working for, for the next four years.

Bella began to regret her words as she hopped inside the car. A great sense of foreboding filled her stomach, matched with dread for the coming night’s result and the subsequent, possible repercussions of her actions.

She had no idea.

~*~

Yes, Mr President - Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Big, big thanks to Karie (SweetVenom69) who has graciously offered to be my beta, MWAH BB!

~*~

Taking the door handle in one hand and his briefcase in the other, Edward took a deep breath and stepped in to the lion’s pit.

“Mr. Cullen!”

“What do you think your chances of winning are today?!”

“Mr. Cullen, have you seen the latest polls?!”

“Edward!”

The most prominent voice was comfortingly familiar.

“Jasper,” Edward sighed thankfully as he reached out to give his best friend and campaign manager a hug amidst the shouts and camera flashes of the journalists. Jasper grasped his hand and slung an arm around his shoulder in a display of comaraderie that was both for the press and for Edward’s nerves.

Leaving the reporters in their wake, the men walked side by side, heads bowed in discussion.

“How was your morning?” Edward asked.

“Shocking, but nothing you need to worry about,” Jasper replied.

“Jazz, I want to know-”

“But you know I’m not going to tell you. Stress is a catching emotion and if I worry you, the public will feel your tension and this can all go down the shit hole. Is that what you want?”

“Jasper, you know-”

“That’s what I thought,” Jasper said as they stepped inside the building. “Now just through that door is where you’ll need to wait,” he instructed, pointing to the left. “Lunch will be brought at 12:30 and an early dinner at 5. I’ll be through here with the team so if you need anything just message me,” he said, holding up his own Blackberry.

Edward struggled momentarily, not wanting to be rendered useless while thousands of volunteers and members of the party worked tirelessly for him. One look at Jasper’s warning face told him that he did not have a choice.

With a resigned sigh, he asked what time the announcement would be made.

“The first will be at 6 tonight,” came Jasper’s over the shoulder reply as he entered the room on the right. A burst of yells, news broadcasts and general chatter intruded on the silence of the hall as Jasper entered the nerve centre of the party. It abruptly cut off with the closing of the large wooden door and Edward was left in the eerie quiet.

“Why couldn’t I have just stayed at home?” he grumbled to himself, slouching his shoulders and pouting his bottom lip in an exaggerated sulking pose as he walked towards the room that was to be his cell for the day.

Flopping down on the over-stuffed couch, he surveyed the room. It was elaborately furnished with luxurious curtains flanking the floor-to-ceiling windows and various antiquities lining the various tables along the walls. The walls were embellished with light pink flowers with pastel green stems over a cream background. The curtains were adorned with gold tasselled ties and the walls and ledges had gold finishings. It was obviously professionally decorated, although a little flashy for his usual tastes - which he had inherited from his mother. He had often perused the pages of her catalogues and portfolios, admiring her talent for restoring old homes and room decoration. She ran an interior design business out of Seattle, close to their family home which was situated on the outskirts of the city.

Before he began to feel homesick, Edward pulled out his Blackberry. Pulling up his contacts, Edward scrolled down to his sister’s name and pressed ‘call’.

“Alice.”

“Hey, Al,” Edward greeted.

“Hey, Edward. How are you? Are you nervous yet?” she replied and he could hear her smiling through the phone.

“No,” he answered, drawing it out in a long exhale. “Not really. Alright, a little bit. Jasper’s not letting me help or do anything remotely interesting.”

“Don’t whine to me about Jasper, I’m not getting involved,” Alice replied with finality.

Edward grumbled under his breath. “Hey, why don’t you and Charlotte come down and entertain me? I’m going to go stir-crazy alone in this prison that Jasper’s stuck me in.”

She sighed. “Sorry Edward, no can do. I’ve got to work on some fabrics and designs for the next collection. But Charlotte misses you, it’s been too long.”

Edward reluctantly murmured his agreement. He missed Charlotte too. She was the light of his life; his precious angel. He didn’t know that he could love anyone as much as he had loved her the moment she had first been placed in his arms.

“I saw you on CNN last night,” Alice said before pausing. Edward sensed a critique about his clothing coming on.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that you can’t wear that horrendous red tie with the grey Calvin, Edward! It just doesn’t work. The flow of the suit is all wrong compared to the tie, the colours barely match and you look plain awkward with the shape of the two together!”

Edward waited.

“Are you finished?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” Alice huffed in reply after an irate pause.

“Well, no one, except you, is going to vote or not vote for me based on what I wear. There are more important things in life than the ‘flow of a suit’, Ali,” he lectured back.

“Edward, just listen to me! I bet there are hundreds of people who will take one look at their voting slip and just tick the box for whoever looks better! You can’t expect everyone to understand your healthcare reform or international policy,” Alice replied.

“Alice, I’m fairly sure we’ve had this discussion before, which is why I let you supervise my clothing, hair and make up for the major photoshoots, interviews and press conferences.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going on CNN! I could have organised something for you!”

“It was a last minute opening, I barely had time to go home and change.”

“So you willingly chose those clothes to wear?”

“No, a member of the opposition forced me to commit a fashion faux pas the night before the election,” he said sarcastically. “Of course I chose them myself!” Alice huffed impatiently.

Their good-natured banter continued for a few more minutes before Edward reaffirmed his promise to let Alice choose his outfits for any upcoming media appearances.

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Edward ended, unable to take anymore of his sister’s questioning about what he was currently dressed in.

“Okay, I’ll pop by your house and sort out a couple of outfits for you later. Good luck, Edward.”

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks Alice. Bye.”

Edward clicked off the phone and cradled it in his hands. 12:05pm, the bright display read. Edward’s stomach growled loudly as his brain contemplated the twenty-five minute wait until his lunch would be brought in.

Sighing loudly, he reached for one of the large files Jasper had left him to study in preparation for his tasks for the next couple of weeks.

“The economic situation experienced a large number...” he began to read aloud under his breath.

~*~

Right on 12:31pm, the lunch lady burst through the door at the end of the room, pushing a trolley of sandwiches and fruit juices. Edward’s mouth watered at the thought of food but he managed to keep his drool to himself as the frumpy looking woman ever so slowly made her way over to Edward’s spot on the couch.

Serving up a plate of dull looking mini-sandwiches and a hunk of burnt cheese and sauce that Edward suspected was a lasagne, the lunch lady remained expressionless and wordless as she passed him a Styrofoam cup of weak cordial before making her way out of the room. Watching her retreating figure, Edward sighed and looked back to his listless lunch. Poking at it tentatively with a fork, he was reminded of his school lunches back at Scotch College.

Before he launched into a long reverie about his school days to pass the time, the door opened behind him.

“How’s it going, Edward?”

“Jasper!” Edward cried happily as he leapt up from the couch.

“Happy to see me, are you?” Jasper laughed.

Edward just groaned in response as he flopped back down on the couch.

“What? All work, no play too much for you, buddy?”

Edward rolled his eyes. “I’ve been cooped up in here for hours. I’ve been starving for hours and now that I’ve got this food, I’ve lost my appetite,” he complained.

Jasper smiled wanly and rolled his eyes before pulling out his Blackberry. “Will a pizza fix this little mood you’re in?”

Edward’s face lit up with a little kid’s grin and Jasper pressed ‘call’.

~*~