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The first day of presidential elections was always a hard time on people’s eyes. Combine the lack of sleep along with trying to avoid last night’s lover's gaze, and by the time night fell and you’d been awake for twenty four hours, your eyes were hanging out of your head. Caffeine only did so much when you were staring at computer screens, television screens and pages among pages of small writing. But everyone was too tense and wired up to sleep. Tension and excitement ran around the room in the forms of shivers and light shakes, small smiles and soft cheers.
“We got Maine!” came a woman’s voice from the back of the room. A small cheer and a ripple of happiness passed through the room. “And California!” came a man’s astounded voice from the far right of the room. Every person turned to look at him. The man, a young, thin thing with light blonde hair, grinned as he put down the phone receiver.
“We got California?” The man standing before the whiteboard asked, turning around so fast the staff in the room was sure he had gotten whiplash. The blonde man nodded. The man in front of the whiteboard grinned, his large smile cutting his smooth face, as he scooped up the young woman next to him and victoriously spun her around. “We got California!” he cried in joy. His manner was infectious, and soon everyone in the room was grinning, cheering and stamping their feet.
Sitting behind her new desk, Catherine Campbell examined the newly formed senior staff in front of her. She remembered the day she met them. Her so hesitant and shy, and them so bright, hopeful and full of energy; they were very quickly contagious, and now Catherine couldn’t imagine doing the job without them.
Andrew O’Conner. Stocky. Solid. He’d been her best friend all her childhood. They grew up next door to each other…
Catherine blinked at the man standing on her doorstep. She had been in the kitchen cooking dinner and reviewing Justin’s paper when the doorbell rang. Her youngest daughter had jumped up from the kitchen table where she had been doing her homework and ran to open it, calling Catherine over just after the large wood door had creaked open.
“What?” Came the reply, causing the man to smirk.
“How would you like to become the first female Commander in Chief?”
Catherine couldn’t believe it. Standing on her doorstep was a man she hadn’t seen since she was thirteen, and he was asking her…
“How would you like to run for President of the United States, Congresswoman Campbell?”
Turning her head slightly, Catherine regarded the young Asian man seated on the couch in front of her.
Alexander Lee was the protégé of Bartlet’s former vice president Bob Russell. Just touching thirty years old, he had the reputation of one of the most aggressive people in the political world. Catherine found it hard to believe that tall, calm spoken Alex inspired so much feared respect in people who had never met the man before.
Catherine turned to her right, jumping slightly as she came face to face with a tall, dark haired man. She shook his extended hand with a smile, registering that her oldest daughter beside her was quickly giving the man a fast once over. If the man noticed, he didn’t show it.
“Alexander Lee,” he introduced with a large smile, sliding his hand over to shake Annabelle’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Both of you.”
He was dashingly attractive, tall and dark toned with sparkling green eyes. Catherine was feeling herself get a little bit star struck, and she knew Annabelle beside her was possibly drooling at the fact that she would be at close quarters with this man for a year.
Next to Alex sat Deborah Moran, as calm spoken as Alex, and as soothing to Catherine as a warm bubble bath. All grace and class, she reminded Catherine of a black reincarnation of Audrey Hepburn. Except she was a bit wider, and much more sweeter.
Debbie paused to consider her friend’s request; her fork moved the food around her plate as her hazel eyes locked on to Catherine’s.
“What is it I would do specifically? For the campaign and when you’re in office?”
Catherine found herself flattered at the fact that Debbie had said ‘when’ and not ‘if’. But it could always have been a mistake that Debbie didn’t pick up on, so Catherine stuck it to the back of her mind and smiled at the black woman.
“What you do best, my friend. What you do best.”
If Deborah Moran was all the grace and class, than Naomi Anderson was all the power and passion. Seated across from Debbie, next to Andrew, it took Catherine a second to realise that she was speaking.
Small, blonde and fragile looking, Naomi had the look of a young teen supermodel, a look that Alex teased her about on a daily basis. Why Naomi went into politics, Catherine was unsure of. Everyone seemed to think that it was because her father was a famous barrister. Hardly anyone seemed to know the correct answer, but Catherine was glad that Naomi had chosen the career she had.
Catherine stood at the door to the campaign headquarters, watching a young, blonde woman, barely 5 foot 4, march crazily around the room, barking out orders and trying to ignore Alex’s protests.
“Naomi Anderson,” Andrew supplied, wearing his trademark smirk as he watched Naomi move quickly around the room, her heels clicking erratically against the cement floor. “You’ll learn to love her.”
Daniel Schiff was the quietest of the group. Leaning against the arm of the couch, behind Naomi, he watched the proceedings with clear grey eyes. He reminded Catherine of a pillar holding up the weakest part of a house, the rock that held up the mighty mountain.
He was always there to pick up anything that was forgotten, be it a huge task or a little one. And he’d do it without complaint. He was the member of the team that everyone respected and no one disagreed with. If it weren’t for his young age, Catherine would have loved to have named the red haired man her Vice.
“Are you sure about New York?” Catherine asked the solid shape of Andy, who was currently blocking her view of the hallway.
“Yes, we’re sure,” Andy assured. “Listen, Dan said the last line of the speech was written wrong,” he handed her a couple of freshly printed out papers. “He changed it, but he wants you to take a look so you don’t say the old line.”
“He checked over it again?” Catherine asked disbelievingly. “That would have to be…what…his –“
“His thirty fourth time,” Andy finished with a small nod at Catherine’s look. “What can I say, the guy’s totally anal. But he’s good. Re-read the last line.”
The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Computers and telephones lay on desks, momentarily abandoned as everyone directed their attention to the group of televisions at the front of the room. Catherine Campbell had walked in the room ten minutes ago with her five children, and had immediately joined the small huddle between the whiteboard and the TVs.
“And it was a close one, folks,” Tom Hudgins told the group from the largest television set. “It was extremely close.”
“We know that. Get to the results already,” Catherine heard Alex mutter, and she saw Naomi, already gripping hands with Debbie, grab his hand too to quickly shut him up.
“The final two states in this election,” Tom continued, not too rushed, much to the anger of the people in the room. “The final two states left to be called, well, they’ve decided to make history tonight.” Catherine felt her heart skip a beat and she instinctively grabbed her children’s hands.
“Nevada and Georgia have decided that…Congresswoman Campbell, is best suited to provide for their needs. America we have a new Commander in Chief.”
The last parts of Tom Hudgin’s spiel were never heard from Campbell’s Campaign staff. The cheers bounced off the concrete storehouse they’d been using as their campaign quarters for the last eleven months, inspiring more people to start cheering and stamping their feet.
Catherine felt herself engulfed by bodies as she went around the room trying to hug and congratulate as many people as possible. She felt like such a child, crying as she hugged the people that had made her year long dream become a reality.
-- - - - - - - - - - -
“Madame President?” Catherine and her team looked up as Catherine’s new secretary, a woman a few years older than Catherine called Maria Hewington, cautiously opened the large door to the Oval Office. “You’re mother is here.”
Catherine smiled and motioned for Maria to bring her guest in, standing up and moving forward as the members of the senior staff stood up also. Maria, smiling gently, accompanied an eighty or so year old woman into the office. Once the woman was safely in Catherine’s arms, Maria left the group with a wink at the staff members.
“Come and meet everyone who made this possible, Mom,” Catherine said gently, stepping back to let her mother see the other people in the room. Catherine’s mother, bright eyed, and slightly hobbled, smiled a large grin at her daughter’s staff. They had made her daughter a part of history, and in her books, they were the best people out there.
“You remember Andrew O’Conner?” Catherine asked her mother, receiving a nod. “He’s my new Chief of Staff.” Andrew nodded and smiled at the woman he remembered from his childhood.
“His second-in-command, my Deputy Chief of Staff, Alexander Lee,” Alex grinned. “My Communications Director, Deborah Moran,” Debbie murmured a soft ‘hello’. “Her second-in-command, Daniel Schiff, the Deputy Communications Director,” Daniel gave a small nod. “And the new White House Press Secretary, Naomi Anderson,” Naomi gave a wave to the frail old woman clutching onto Catherine.
“Hello, everyone,” Catherine’s mother acknowledged in a soft voice, smiling back at her beaming daughter.
REVIEW FOR ME, WOULD YOU. TELL ME WHAT I'M DOING WRONG OR RIGHT.
I KNOW IT'S NOT VERY PLOT PRODUCTIVE. IT'S JUST AN INTRODCTORY CHAPTER.
CIAO!