Chapter 5 Presidential Hangover
1038 Words
Chapter 5
Presidential Hangover
Morning light pours through the windows of Maria’s bedroom. A katana and two smaller swords with matching water serpent scabbards hang on the wall next to posters of karate stances and striking points. Martial arts trophies and rainbow knick-knacks that could just as easily belong to a twelve-year-old schoolgirl fill a display case next to the bed.
The open closet door reveals wardrobes from the exotic to the mundane. Steampunk, goth, and kimono ensembles clash with outfits Aunt Opal might wear lounging around the old folks’ home. The conservative versus the decadent. Even Maria’s clothes are ready to fight.
Four pillows prop up James in bed. Maria sleeps next to him with a single pillow. She stirs first.
Maria turns to James in bed. “Thanks for not puking on my sheets, Mr. President.”
James clutches his head with both hands. “Last night is a little fuzzy.” He rubs his eyes. His eyes go from open to bulging. Maria lies next to him. In bed. “Last night must have been wonderful!” He leans in a few inches towards Maria.
Maria looks up, pondering the night. “Wonderful is a strong word. I’d rather not go into all the ins and outs.”
James lights up at the mention of the words in and out. He breathes deep and stares at Maria with a lifetime of desire. “I’ve liked you for a long time.” He scoots a couple of inches closer.
Maria smiles at him. “There’s no one I like spending time with more than you.” She socks him playfully on the arm.
His voice quivers with emotion. “I’ve wanted something to happen for so long. I’d lost hope.” He leans in further towards Maria.
She notices him invading her personal space. Her eyes go wide. Red alert! He’s going for a kiss.
She evades his lips, does a rolling tumble onto the floor, and rotates to face the bed in a crouched fighting stance. “I’m your bro, not your girlfriend.” Maria stares down James. “Are we clear?”
James shakes his head, confused. “Yeah, but…”
Maria repeats the words slower. “I’m your bro, not your girlfriend. Are we clear?”
James stands up on Maria’s mattress. “I never thought we’d be in bed together, but here we are. Are you saying we didn’t sleep together?”
She rolls her eyes. “OK. OK. Literally, we slept together, but there was no s*x and never will be.”
James raises his arms and looks around. “I’m in your bed.” James bounces a few times on the mattress and points down. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me here.”
Maria says, “You were in bad shape. I wanted to make sure you didn’t puke up a lung. Chivalry isn’t just for boys.”
He points down again. “This is not the couch. This is your bed.”
“James, if something happened last night, then why are you fully clothed?”
James looks down at his steampunk clothes from last night and blushes. He steps down from the bed. “We can pretend today never happened.”
Maria springs up and strolls over to James. “Oh, no. I’m going to tease you for weeks over this.”
James laughs halfheartedly. He retrieves a wad of paper from his pocket. He holds one end and flicks. The receipt is long enough to hit the floor. “This is worse than a CVS receipt. Is this a bar tab, or a novel?”
James follows Maria into the living room. He surveys it with fresh eyes. “You need some more self-control, Maria. Who pissed you off this time? That table is totally smashed.”
Maria retreats to her room in a huff and slams the door.
“The tech community should love having one of their own as president. Easy sell,” James war dials every tech CEO in his contacts. He leaves dozens of messages. Not even long-term friend, Rick Slater of Slater Dynamics, returns his calls. Déjà vu. It’s just like the lawyers.
Maria changes from her pajamas and returns to the living room.
“Maria, can I borrow your phone?” James asks.
She hands him the phone.
He dials. “I’m the assistant to Maria Cortez of Adaptive Unlimited. I need to connect her to Rick Slater.”
“One moment,” the receptionist mumbles.
Maria chuckles. “Hey assistant, can you get me some coffee?”
James gives her a dirty look.
Rick comes on. He speaks with urgency. “Maria, I hope you’re staying away from James. He’s a black hole. Anything he touches disappears.”
“Thanks, Rick,” James says. “Good to know I can count on you.”
There is only a deep breath on the other end, then an exhale.
James says, “How long have we been friends?”
“If you’re asking that, you obviously know how much trouble you’re in,” Rick says.
“Maybe I don’t.”
Rick says, “There isn’t a powerful VC that Renquist isn’t invested with. Nobody by the name of James Wong is raising money in tech, or anywhere else, until you get Renquist off the warpath.”
“I’ll handle it,” James says.
“You know, you’re not the only James Wong,” Rick says. “Two companies lost late round funding because they had a James Wong on the payroll. Stay away from me. I prefer not to be collateral damage. You’re the Titanic. Put Maria in a lifeboat. Don’t sink her into the depths with you.” Rick hangs up.
James gives Maria a puzzled look. “Why aren’t they coming after you? You’re the one that kicked his ass.”
“I doubt Renquist wants to trumpet the circumstance of our last meeting,” Maria says.
He says, “Without donors, that campaign video is more important than ever. Let’s work on it.”
“It’s already done.”
Concern creeps on his face. “I was so wasted. There is no way it doesn’t need major editing.”
“I uploaded the raw video last night,” she says.
His jaw drops. “You did what? Aiya! That was only a rehearsal.”
“You were out of control. I retaliated. Sorry. We haven’t promoted it yet. I’m sure nobody even noticed.”
James grabs a backpack from the rack by the front entrance. “You’re probably right. I’ll look at it when I get home.” He shoves a laptop and everything Maria took off him last night into his backpack. James pulls out his car keys. “Right…my car.”
“You need a ride, just ask,” Maria says.
James opens up the Uber app on his phone.
She puts her hand on his phone. “It’s my way of apologizing.”
He reluctantly accepts her ride home. The conversation in the car is like a frigid wasteland, filled with icy stares and desolation.
- Writer
