From One Leader to Another

FROM ONE LEADER TO ANOTHER

Alina Stewart stood over her best friend's crumpled body as the clock behind her ticked quietly. Her hands were outstretched in front of her as if trying to grab something in the distance. A drop of blood rolled off of her finger, hitting the floor with a splash. Despite footsteps down the hallway, she didn't flinch, fighting the rising hysterical chuckle bubbling in her throat.

She’d done it. 

The laugh escaped her until she was a mad woman laughing in the dark. 

TWO MONTHS AGO

“You look wrung out,” Alina remarked as she strolled into the Oval Office and plopped down on a couch, reclining back on an elbow. Normally, such body language was unbecoming for the Vice President of the United States, but when the world narrowed down to the two of them, then there was no reason to feel shame. 

President Samuel Bowles chuckled as he also leaned back in his chair. Alina almost expected him to put his feet, cloaked in polished Oxfords, on top of the venerated Resolute desk, but he had more self-control than she did. “You wouldn’t believe it.”

“The air conditioning is turned on, right?” Alina asked. 

“It should be,” Sam replied, a frown creasing his brows. “I’ll have the workers look at it tomorrow morning and get it up to efficiency again.”

“A gas attack by a foreign nation?” Alina quipped. 

“Always,” Sam said, and the two shared a private look that could only be deciphered by the other.

Even on an exhausting day when the job kept her on the move, Alina had time to wonder how fortunate she was to have a lifelong friend and to keep him with her in the same career. They’d amicably parted ways for college before life had joined them again as they started their political journeys. It was either fate or sheer luck that they were where they were now; as president and vice president of a nation, almost two years into Sam’s first term. 

“The secretary of France wants to speak with me,” Sam said in the comfortable silence that followed. “What are the odds that it’s about the fireworks?”

Alina laughed, reaching over to pluck up a plump grape from the fruit bowl. “Very low. The kids are coming, right?” She was like a second mom to Sam’s three children, all of whom were in adolescence already. Time flew fast in the White House. 

“They wouldn’t miss it,” Sam assured her. “How about Dale?”

“I’ll wrangle him into it.” 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Sam called.

First Lady Marianne Bowles walked in, and Alina’s heart leaped. When Sam and Marianne had gotten married three months before Alina’s wedding, she’d been overjoyed, and now treasured Marianne’s friendship significantly. 

“I got confirmation from the UK’s prime minister,” Marianne said. “They’re sending a small party down to celebrate the Fourth of July here.”

“More security,” Alina concluded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“More standing around and being polite,” Sam said. “Oh well. Not even presidents get holidays.”

“Presidents never get holidays,” Alina responded. “I have paperwork to go through.”

“Wouldn’t you rather help me arrange the Fourth of July event?” Marianne asked, a wicked glint in her eye. She knew Alina too well. “It’s more fun than paperwork, I assure you.”

“Self-control!” Alina called before departing the office at high speed. 

The weather was perfect for celebrating, which would be the only thing worked into Sam’s speech for the night. Alina had drafted one too, but she figured that she wouldn’t need it. 

Dale was waiting for her near an elm tree planted by the entrance of the South Lawn, where officials and folks lucky enough to snag an invitation were swarming to get in, occasionally stopped by members of the Secret Service. Alina, who had irritated herself trying to find her best dress suit, felt herself light up the second she saw him. Despite her heels, she ran over and they ended up almost falling over. 

“Don’t you care about the cameras?” Dale teased. Both of them wore matching smiles. 

“To hell with the cameras,” Alina retorted. “After this, I need a foot massage.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to deliver.” Dale gently nudged her towards where crowds were gathering around chairs plastered with the presidential seal and a stage set up for speakers. 

“Not yet.” Alina winked at him as they drew closer. She saw Marianne standing with her three kids, Rachel, Abby, and Theo, but no signs of Sam. Probably talking with the UK representatives. 

“Sam’s okay, right?” Dale asked in a low voice.

Puzzled, Alina glanced at him. “He’s fine. Why?”

Dale shook his head. “He and Marianne seem off.”

“I see both of them every day. I think I would know if something was up,” Alina told him, but the matter wasn't put out of her head as they joined Marianne and the kids. She took a closer look at her friend as someone announced Sam’s arrival on the stage, and saw tight lines drawn around Marianne’s eyes. It concerned her that she’d failed to notice this. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Alina whispered to her as Sam thanked everybody for coming out to the celebration. 

Instead of claiming that she was fine, Marianne’s hand squeezed Alina’s quickly. Softly, she said, “Sam and I have been arguing about me not being around for the kids. It’s just a bad patch. We’ll get through it.”

Alina smiled for her sake just as one of the secretaries, Lisa, walked towards them, wearing a beautiful dress that seemed too classy for the occasion, but Alina decided not to judge. 

“Hey, Lisa,” Alina said with a nod. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Lisa said, smiling. “I’m excited about the fireworks.”

“That’s a pretty ring,” Alina offered, noticing a golden ring set with jade on Lisa’s finger. “Is it new?”

“Oh yeah, it was a gift,” Lisa said with another smile for them both. 

“On this day two hundred and forty-seven years ago, we came together to become a powerful nation,” Sam began. “The American spirit will overtake any challenge and allow us to celebrate what makes-”

A scream rose from the back of the crowd. Several sharp-sounding pops followed, setting Alina on alert. 

“Get the president off the stage!” she yelled. “Everyone, evacuate the area!”

Members of the Secret Service were already bundling the president off of the stage and steering their little group into the trees, away from potential snipers. With lightning speed, they ushered fleeing citizens away from the site and began a perimeter check, rifles up. Abby began to cry, and Alina saw why immediately; several bodies were scattered in the grass. 

“Who?” Alina asked quietly, shocked by what had just happened, but trying to rally for the others. It was something she’d learned in her career; a calm face is the best way to handle the situation. 

“We’re not sure, but the UK delegation got caught up, I think,” Sam said.

Alina put a hand to her mouth, horror overwhelming her senses even as Dale squeezed her shoulder. Oh, God. If any of the British representatives were killed in this “assassination” attack that they had failed to stop at the White House…the whole world would rain hellfire on them, especially Great Britain.

“Get medics!” someone shouted. Alina felt helpless as she stood there, with Marianne trying to comfort her children even as the first of the sirens began to wail.

So the White House was not invulnerable to attack. 

All her life, Alina had grown up believing that the president was the most well-protected person in the country, with so much security and power. But during her time as the president’s second in command, she’d grown to realize how tenuous safety was. 

Two UK representatives had been shot and were in critical condition. No one had died yet, but it hadn’t taken long for Britain’s prime minister to retaliate. The White House was swarmed with demands for information, and an unspoken threat hung over the place. 

Alina barely saw Sam over the next couple of weeks as they both dealt with the overflow of media attention rapidly building up against them. At first, she told herself that it was due to all the stress, but the few times she saw him stalking through the hallways, she found herself almost too afraid to talk to him, as if she didn’t want to confront him about the disaster that they had planned single-handedly. She’d been the first to suggest asking the UK to join them. Could it be guilt or shame keeping her from having a simple conversation with her best friend?

Finally, the jumble of feelings got too much to bear alone, so after a day of shoving paperwork around, Alina slipped out of her bed and called for a car to take her from her official residence in the Number One Observatory Circle. The car silently sped through the night for two and a half miles until it pulled up by the White House. Alina felt exposed as she avoided looking at the taped-off South Lawn and quickly hurried inside the White House, accompanied by trained guards.

“Sam?” she called as she opened his office door. He often stayed up a lot of nights working, and it was rare for him to snag more than four hours of sleep. “Sam?”

Perhaps he’d retired early. Alina called for him again as she walked into his bedroom, vacant of Secret Service guards. That should have been a clue for her to search for him elsewhere, but her curiosity overpowered her and she wandered into the bedroom, sitting as she waited for Sam to come back.

Five minutes later, Alina was ready to go looking for him when her eyes caught on the bed, and she looked at its rumpled, unmade state. Alina was wondering bemusedly if Sam had been wrestling with his sheets when something winked at her from underneath the pillows. She slowly approached the bed before reaching in and pulling out a ring. 

A golden ring, set with jade. 

Alina’s world narrowed to a tunnel, the other end obscured by the sight of the ring. A ring she’d seen right before the UK delegation had been attacked. Her first, stupid thought was: Why is this here? The second: Oh my God. 

No, this had to be a mistake. Maybe Lisa and Sam had been talking business and she’d dropped her ring. But deep down, Alina knew. It wasn’t just the messy bed or the ring, but the memory of the look on Sam’s face as he’d struggled to deal with the current international crisis. Marianne talking about their “bad patch”. 

You know him. How could this be real? The Sam she knew would never do this, never cheat on his wife or lie or use a sexual relationship as a way to blow off steam. 

Footsteps thundered outside the door, and before Alina could childishly run to hide, Sam appeared in the doorway. He froze the second he saw her, and they both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until his eyes flicked toward the ring in her hand, and something more like panic appeared on his face.

“Alina,” he said. “I can explain-”

“What the hell, Sam?” A whisper turned into a roar as Alina threw the ring at him, 

wishing that she could punch his nose. “What the hell?”

“You shouldn’t have come in here! What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you!” Alina cried. “I was worried about you! But clearly, you’re fine, because you’re making love to Lisa! The secretary!”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sam said sharply. 

“Am I? Because I sure won’t be when Marianne finds out about this. How long?”

Only one part of her impassioned response registered to him, and true panic appeared in his eyes. “You can’t tell Marianne,” he said. 

“I’m her friend-”

“I am your president, and I’ve known you longer! You wouldn’t do this to me, Alina - you wouldn’t ruin my career and my marriage,” Sam growled. 

Alina just shook her head, disgusted. “You’re right. You know me, but I don’t know you,” she told him. “And try me. My loyalty to Marianne comes before our working relationship.”

“Then both of our careers will blow up,” Sam said, looking stone-faced.

“I won’t keep this from your wife because you’re too insecure about yourself,” Alina snapped. “If it means sacrificing my reputation as your second-in-command, so be it.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

For a fierce, charged moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, both wide with rage. Two best friends, with the trust and friendship between them broken. Alina felt the wound in her heart, but she cruelly stitched it up and shoved it aside. Sam didn’t deserve an ounce of that hurt. Not anymore. 

“If you tell Marianne,” Sam said in a low voice, “you will ruin everything, Alina.”

“Fine,” Alina said bitterly. “Fine. Then I’ll run against you.”

“What?” Shock permeated Sam’s face.

“You heard me. I’m running against you in the upcoming election. Let’s make a deal, Samuel. If you win, then I’ll be forbidden from telling Marianne that you cheated on her, and you can remove me from my office. But if I win, I have the right to tell her, and you’ll never run for another term again.”

“So be it,” Sam said with a razor-edged smile, and the two shook hands, never breaking eye contact. 

TWO MONTHS LATER

It’s killing Alina to keep such a terrible secret from Marianne, to see her friend supporting her husband’s campaign to get re-elected when Sam has deliberately turned his back on her, but a deal’s a deal, and Alina would uphold it.

“How do I look?” she asked Dale in the evening when the votes would be tallied. She smiled for his sake, keeping a lid on her simmering emotions. 

“Amazing,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Listen, Alina, if you don’t win, you know that you still have other opportunities, right?”

No, I won’t, she wanted to tell him, but she just nodded.

“Mrs. Vice President, we’re ready to go,” said a little man as he popped his head into the room.

“We’ll be down,” Alina told him as she turned to Dale. “Coming?”

The crowd roared with energy and noise, the cool breeze gladly countering the flush on Alina’s cheeks. She checked herself as Marianne hugged her tightly. Her eyes glowed like two stars, and Alina’s stomach wrenched again, but if the ballot went as planned…her conscience would be settled soon. 

“The votes are in, ladies and gentlemen,” announced the balding man standing before the audience on the stage. “And the president of the United States of America is…”

PRESENT DAY

Alina briskly walked down the hallway of the White House alone. In her heels and immaculate black dress suit, she looked like any other politician, even though she’d been playing this game of politics for years. 

Echoes of cheers still swirled inside her head, and she almost laughed. The country would always need a white man to keep them strong, to keep them fed on the illusion of power although their president was a lying bastard who would do whatever it took to keep himself safe. 

Sam rounded the corner, and Alina immediately forced a new look on her face. “Hey, Sam. Congratulations,” she said graciously, holding out her hand. He blinked, looking surprised and wary; they’d been avoiding each other for almost three months, refusing to speak directly, and when they’d been forced to debate during their campaigns, they’d practically spewed vitriol. But the “good sportsmanship” quality that all self-satisfying people owned won out, and he smiled before accepting the handshake.

“Alina, you did good,” he said. “It was a close one. But you can always run again. And…I’m sorry about how we ended things that night. If you want, I’d love to have you in office again.”

“That would mean a lot,” Alina said. “Why don’t we step inside? I wanted to address something…”

Sam agreed, and they both walked into the nearest office, talking about memorable things from the campaign. Through it all, Alina’s hand never left her pocket.

When they sat down and closed the door, Alina smiled and said, “I know it was a one-time thing.”

Sam relaxed as if his burdens had been lifted. “It was. I ended things; I just don’t want to hurt Marianne.”

“Of course not,” Alina said, letting bitterness seep into her smile. “But you did anyway.” She slapped papers onto the table, and Sam’s eyebrows drew together before he realized what they were. 

“How did you-”

“Bribing members of the House of Representatives to vote for you? Thinking that you were discreet because no one had the key to your drawer?” Alina shook her head. “Oh, Sam. I grabbed them right before I found out that you were cheating on Marianne.”

“But I-”

“You think that I’m a weak woman who can’t keep up with you,” Alina snarled, voice ringing. “But you were afraid of me beating you in the election after you realized I was smart enough to deduce your affair, is that it? So you risked going to jail, losing your career just to prove that you’re more popular and a better person?”

Sam’s mouth flapped as he searched for excuses. “Listen-”

“I don’t need to anymore,” Alina said in a deadly whisper. “And you don’t, either.”

It was easy to draw the knife hidden in her dress suit and run Sam through. 

He choked, blood flecking his lips, before crumpling to the ground, hand reaching out. “Alina-” he rasped. 

“You ruined my career,” she murmured to him. “Now I ruined yours.”

As his convulsions ceased, Alina held out her bloody hands, examining the scarlet-coated digits, and began to laugh. 

From one leader to another, right?

THE END