The Advisor Page 7

  The sudden realization that a couple of guys in dark suits, dark sunglasses, and “I don’t have time for your shit” expressions on their faces were standing outside of a room door at the end of the hall made my stomach twist tighter. Both of the men and the door to the room were facing us, so all I could do was not look directly ahead so that the Secret Service guys wouldn’t see the fear in my eyes.

  Would they shoot me if they even slightly suspected that I might be dangerous?

  “Just listen,” Marty instructed me as we got closer to the ominous door and men in suits. “Don’t say a word unless you’re prompted by myself or Nathan directly. All I need you to do is to absorb information so you can get in the loop and you can work with Nathan to handle this.”

  “I’m going to work with Nathan?” I mumbled, the knots in my stomach revolting.

  “Of course,” Marty replied as though I was stupid, which might have been accurate. “Who else? But any plan the two of you come up with will be approved by me. I’m the Campaign Manager.”

  “Funny,” I mumbled. “I thought Nathan would be the one in charge.”

  “You really don’t know politics.” Marty hissed as we approached the door.

  “Agent Murphy, Agent O’Dowd.” Marty nodded to each in turn, which let me know Murphy was on the left, and O’Dowd was on the right. “This is Timothy Long. Social Media Influencer and established dumbass.”

  Arguing or taking offense was impossible. I was that scared of the suited men.

  “He’ll be working with us for a while, as I mentioned earlier. Though, for how long has yet to be determined.” She stated snidely.

  Agent Murphy nodded.

  “Remove your coat.” He said.

  “Huh?”

  “Your coat.” Agent O’Dowd repeated. “We need to make sure you’re not carrying any weapons.”

  “Weapons?” I muttered.

  “Take off your fucking coat.” Marty hissed at me.

  Before the final sound left her mouth, I was pulling my coat off as though my life depended on it. Much to their credit, the two Secret Service agents didn’t even crack a smile. They gave no indication of what they thought of my stupendous display of nerves. Both agents simply waited while I unbuttoned my coat, yanked my arms out of the sleeves, and slipped it off over my shoulders. Clumsily, my coat slipped out of my hands and fell to the ground, so I was forced to bend down and retrieve it as Marty and the two agents watched. After several embarrassing seconds, I had my coat in hand and I was holding it out between the two agents, unsure which one would want it.

  Murphy took the coat from me and began to go through the pockets and feel the material for God knows what as O’Dowd stepped forward and grabbed ahold of me. I jumped as he quickly lifted my arms, felt underneath them, ran his hands along the length of my arms, down my sides—which tickled—felt along the insides and outsides of my legs, then my chest and lower back. I was beginning to wonder if my ass and junk were going to get explored right there with Marty Goldman as witness number one. Agent O’Dowd seemed fine with the cursory pat-down he gave me and moved back into position. Agent Murphy was holding my coat out to me.

  “Your security check came back clean.” He said as I took my coat with a shaky hand. “Not spotless, but clean.”

  “You can’t get away with everything?” I shrugged.

  Both agents grinned and even turned their heads to smile at each other. That made me feel a little better.

  “Can we go in now?” Marty grumbled.

  Agent Murphy grabbed the knob and pushed the door open.

  “Enjoy your meeting.” He said.

  Marty was indicating that I should follow, and then she was stomping through the door. I gave both of the agents a nod, which they returned with their own nods. Their smiles were already gone. Apparently, they had hit their quota. They were both staring down the hallway again, as though the previous few moments had never happened. Fair enough, I thought to myself. Bantering with me is a distraction from them protecting Nathan Reed and his room. So, I followed Marty into the room, and as soon as I was inside, she was shutting the door behind us.

  “Don’t cut jokes with the agents.” She glowered. “They’re here for Nathan’s protection.”

  “Sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. “I wonder what the spots on my security check were?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Oh,” I snorted, “I know what I’ve done wrong. I just don’t know which things they know about.”

  “They probably have footage of when you discovered dry-humping your pillow felt good.”

  “Gross.”

  She shrugged, then her face was serious once more. I suddenly realized that we were in the living room of a suite. A dining area was by the bay of windows on the other side of the room, twenty feet away. There was a set of closed double doors to the right and a single door on the left, though it was open. Everything was ultra-modern, yet somehow elegant. I had expected Nathan Reed’s room to look more presidential—maybe like the Oval Officer or something—and less like somewhere Christian Grey would stay while on a business trip. Muffled voices could be heard coming from the room with the closed double doors.

  “The meeting’s in there.” Marty hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Okay.”

  “We’re going in now.” She continued. “Take the first available seat and sit down. Be quiet. Listen.”

  “Jesus, lady.”

  “Just do as I say. Don’t fuck this up.”

  “Fine.”

  There was really nothing I could say to what Marty had commanded of me, so I simply draped my coat over the back of a chair nearby, then indicated that she should lead the way. If she could essentially snap her fingers at me, I could do the same to her. Yeah, maybe she was my boss, being the Campaign Manager and all, but I was sorry ten times over for taking the job on a whim. The worst she could do was fire me. It wouldn’t ruin my career since I’d never even considered a career in politics, so I didn’t care if she got pissed off.

  “Do you have your phone?”

  “It’s in my coat pocket,” I said. “Do I need it?”

  “If you want to take notes, yes.” She said. “Text only, no audio or video recordings.”

  “I thought you said—”

  “Any recordings will be planned, edited, and approved. You can’t just willy-nilly wave your phone around, taking pictures or video of anything you want. You certainly can’t record a crisis management meeting.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I don’t need my phone then.”

  “You’re not going to take notes?”

  “Are we going into this meeting or not?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “By the time you get done berating me, it will be over.”

  She snorted haughtily. “This meeting won’t be over until I say that it’s over.”

  “You are a delight.”

  “Oh, fuck you. Let’s go.”

  Marty turned on her heels like a drill sergeant for the, well, I’d actually lost track of how many times she’d done that, and she stomped towards the double doors. Once again, I found myself dashing after her to keep up. Her hands were on the handles, and she was swinging the doors outwards just as I approached her from behind. Just beyond the doors was a small but sufficient meeting room with a long metal and glass table surrounded by leather and metal officer chairs. Ten chairs in total, only five of which were occupied. The rest of the room looked similar to the rest of the suite, save for the Ficus tree on either side of the bank of windows.

  Why does every meeting room have a fucking Ficus tree?

  Long and narrow, the meeting table had been covered with notebooks and cell phones, boxes of donuts and pastries, as well as coffee and juice service, a huge bowl of mixed fruit, and what looked like foil-wrapped breakfast burritos on a platter. Two of the staffers, one man, one woman, were seated on the side of the table closest to the doors, their backs to us. The other two staffers, both women—good for Nat
han—were seated on the other side of the table, facing us. Nathan Reed was to our left, in the chair at the head of the meeting table that was closest to the windows. A quick scan of the people, who hadn’t quite noticed us yet, and their individual setups let me know that they were ignoring the healthier options present. Donuts, pastries, and coffee were the preferred breakfast for Nathan Reed’s staffers.

  Nathan Reed had a half-eaten breakfast burrito on a plate in front of himself, as well as a notebook, closed laptop, and a cell phone. An empty bowl, that I presumed had once held some of the mixed fruit, was empty, only a spoon inside of it. He had a black coffee that was way too full, so I was assuming he was past his first cup. Or he drank his coffee slowly. All of the other staffers seemed to be drinking coffee in various shades, as well. They all had notebooks and pens, even cellphones, though none of them seemed to have brought a laptop with them. Again, I made an assumption that too many electronics were looked down upon by Nathan and Marty. I didn’t even have a notebook and pen, so I didn’t have to worry about that.

  “Everyone,” Marty stated sharply as she ushered me into the room, quickly slapping the doors shut behind us, “this is Timothy Long. He’s joining us today as a Crisis Manager.”

  The four staffers on either side of the table all gave me sleepy smiles, though they were genuine and friendly. If I wasn’t mistaken, there also seemed to be an underlying panic etched on the four faces that greeted us. However, since everyone seemed friendly, I merely smiled back and raised a hand in greeting.

  “I’m Timothy,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Marty nudged me towards an open seat next to the woman on the side of the table closest to the door, “they figured that out, Einstein.”

  Instead of rolling my eyes or snapping back at her, I simply made my way to the chair next to the female staffer and pulled it out. As I pulled out the chair, I looked over at Nathan, intending to give him a smile and a nod, but I was greeted with a death glare. He was sitting stiffly in his seat, watching me as I lowered myself into the chair. Averting my eyes, I sunk into the chair and pulled myself forward with my feet, the wheels underneath me squeaking slightly. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Marty slide into the chair at the other end of the table. Apparently, two people thought they were in charge of this meeting. When I looked back at Nathan, his body language was still rigid, but he was no longer looking at me. Where was the warm and friendly guy Brandon had spoken of just minutes before we walked into the meeting?

  Obviously, Nathan didn’t like to be interrupted, even by the new guy who was supposed to help him get out of a crisis of his own making. None of the other staffers seemed to take notice of the shift in Nathan’s demeanor, so I simply settled in, lacing my fingers on the tabletop and leaning in to listen carefully. That’s what I was told to do, so I was going to do it. All of the other staffers had pens in hand, at the ready, and I could see that they had all taken copious notes. I wasn’t sure how long the meeting had been going on before our arrival, but some of the notes made it appear as though we were sneaking in at the tail end.

  “So,” Nathan spoke, getting my attention, “let’s hear some ideas. The debate is in three days, and we need to be prepared for Ledbetter. I’m sure he’s prepared for me.”

  The staffers laughed. I just listened. Nathan’s eyes were on me again, and he didn’t look any friendlier. However, I wasn’t sure if he was still upset at being interrupted or if he was upset that I hadn’t laughed at his joke.

  “Just spit-balling here, Nathan,” The male staffer spoke up, “but maybe just say that you had forgotten to mention the annulment since it was a while back, and it wasn’t an important part of your life.”

  “He’ll sound like he’s saying marriage is a trivial matter, and he will easily forget details,” Marty replied. “Neither is a good look for a future president.”

  “Anyone else?” Nathan looked to the women sitting opposite me.

  My eyes stayed on Nathan. I’m young, I guess. Twenty-nine. Though, that is kind of old to be a fairly new YouTuber and Social Media Influencer. Usually, fifteen to twenty-two-year-olds get that distinction. Nathan Reed, though I knew his age—people running for president disclose that information after all—didn’t seem to be a year over thirty. However, I knew he was about to turn forty-one, and would be the youngest president to ever be elected and take office if he got the Democratic nomination and then won the election in November. And he was an out and proud gay man. He also was handsome, graying at the temples in a distinguished way, slight crow’s feet at his eyes, gentle smile lines that softened the severity of his bone structure. He still had a full head of hair and, even in his early morning outfit of jeans and a minty green polo, he looked distinguished.

  Other than the death glare he had given me when I entered the room, he was precisely the type of guy I’d like to see sitting in the highest office in the land. He was professional, good looking, gay, and other than this lie by omission scandal, he seemed principled. Before the story in the Des Moines Article, no one had ever had a substantial complaint or grievance against the man. Of course, lacking enemies with a solid reason to dislike you was also fishy. Everyone has enemies. Everyone. No matter who a person is, they’ve done some shady shit at one point or another in their life, so the fact that this was the first scandal to ever threaten Nathan’s success was surprising.

  What’s really up with that annulment, Nathan Reed?

  “You could always say that you just didn’t feel like it was anyone’s business.” The female staffer next to me suggested.

  “Transparency issue,” Marty said.

  “You literally forgot?” A female staffer asked.

  “Great.” Marty sighed and leaned forward to hold her head in her hands. “He’s senile at forty. People want that in a president.”

  “Marty,” Nathan said.

  “You could say that you were planning to mention it, but that reporter asked before that happened.” The last staffer piped up.

  My eyes were dancing around the table, watching the interactions, taking in everything I could about everyone’s body language. How did Nathan react? How did Marty react? How did each of the staffers react to each other’s thoughts? Was this a cohesive group that worked well together, or were they all just tolerating each other until Super Tuesday?

  “I’ve been in this race too long,” Nathan said. “They’d never buy that. Look, folks, I really need a plan for how to deal with this. Something that addresses the issue, sounds genuine, doesn’t throw up any red flags, and isn’t a lie.”

  Everyone went silent, thoughtful expressions forming on their faces. I continued to sit there, my eyes moving from face to face, trying to figure out everyone’s role in this cog in the machine.

  “Well,” the male staffer began, jabbing a thumb to his right as he looked over at Nathan, “you have a Crisis Manager now. Why not ask his advice?”

  I didn’t imagine it—Nathan Reed actually looked put out with that response. He had handled every other poor suggestion with aplomb and patience. Being told to actually listen to the person who had been hired to handle his crisis seemed to ruin his day.

  Great. Haven’t even been formally introduced, and he hates me.

  What the fuck did I do to this guy?

  Has he seen an episode of Tuniverse and just hates me for what I represent?

  “Fine.” Nathan reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Timothy. You’re a Crisis Manager. What do you suggest?”

  I fidgeted in my chair a moment. Marty was staring daggers at me out of the corner of my eye. Specific instructions had been given to me by her to not say a word. However, the actual person whose campaign we were working on had instructed me to speak. She had told me to speak if asked directly by Nathan or herself. How could I say, “no.”?

  “Social Media Influencer and YouTuber. I don’t know if I’d call myself an official Crisis Manager. But why not just tell the truth?” I suggested. “Whatever the truth may be?”


  The male staffer laughed. All of the other staffers looked concerned.

  “Though I don’t know the truth, so maybe that’s a bad idea?” I shrugged. “Just got here, after all.”

  Nathan Reed was staring at me blankly.

  “Politicians don’t tell the truth.” The male staffer guffawed. “They spin.”

  Nathan actually looked away from me to smile at the male staffer.

  “Joey, that just breaks my heart.” He chuckled.

  “Sorry.” Joey, apparently, responded. “But come on. The truth?”

  The female staffers seemed to be torn between taking Joey’s stance on my suggestion and congratulating me on saying what needed to be said. It was an epic battle going on with all of them. Marty continued to seethe in the corner of my eye as Joey’s laughter sputtered out, and Nathan turned his attention back to me. Doing anything but meeting his gaze would make me seem weak. So, that’s what I did. I kept my hands interlocked on the table and met his stare. That seemed to surprise him.

  “Okay,” Nathan said after a moment of us staring at each other. “I need all of you to go figure this out. Find out the best way we can handle this. Brainstorm possible attacks, questions, formulate responses—just do what you do. We have three days.”

  Nathan waved a dismissive hand. The other staffers started to rise from their seats, so I pushed back from the table as well.

  “Not you.” Nathan was locking eyes with me once again.

  My throat felt like it was holding the biggest lump in the world as I pulled myself back towards the table. I hadn’t seen Marty make any indication that she planned to rise form the table either. Instead, we all sat there and waited for the other staffers to leave the meeting room, all of them assuring Nathan that they would come up with a “great plan” to solve this problem. By the time all of them had left the room, and the doors had clicked shut behind them, I was prepared to be handed my walking papers.