Reesa

A few days later Lynda returned from her tour with the President in Europe. He didn't want to spend time with her and was about to cancel on their Friday night dinner date when he decided it would be good to get out, get his mind off of Reesa. He knew he wouldn't be able to make love with her, and was not sure how he was going to get out of it, but decided he'd figure something out along the way.

Throughout the dinner Stephen was quiet, distant, politely acknowledging everything Lynda was saying, but not listening, not engaging. She, in her usual shallow way, interpreted his distance as stress from work and was at least sensitive enough to change the topic from all the politicking in Europe and gossiping about the other White House correspondents to talk more about the food she ate and sights she saw. It didn't matter to Stephen what she talked about, but to her it seemed like she was doing him a favor by leaving work behind.

Despite his best efforts, Lynda invited herself over to his place for the night. Even on the way back, Stephen tried to make some kind of excuse and he noticed a slight grin on George's face in the rearview mirror. He had to laugh to himself; George probably understood more what was going on then he did himself!

As George let them out of the car in front of his house, Stephen stayed back to speak with George as Lynda walked up to the house. Just as Stephen was about to say something, Lynda screamed, both men running to the front porch to see what had happened, George with his gun drawn.

Lynda stood there with her hand over her mouth, looking down on the front porch. There in a heap was Reesa, curled up, her face puffed up, bleeding.

"Oh fuck, Jesus, Reesa, oh my god, are you OK?" Stephen blurted out. He turned to yell at George to call 911, but he was already on his phone.

Stephen knelt down next to Reesa and held her, trying to comfort her until the ambulance arrived. In his fear and nervousness he peppered her with questions, who, why, when, but Reesa remained silent, her mouth swollen up, one lip badly cut.

As Stephen sat there trying to comfort Reesa, gently running his hand through her hair, holding her, Lynda lost it.

Yelling, "Who is she, Stephen? How do you know her? Who is she? Tell me!"

Stephen tried to tell her to quiet down, that he would explain, but that only seemed to rile her more.

"Explain what? What do you have to tell me? Who is she?"

As she blabbered on, the ambulance arrived and Stephen stepped back, allowing them access to Reesa.

Ignoring Lynda, Stephen addressed George, "First, George, please take Lynda home then give me a call, you'll need to pick up Reesa's grandmother and bring her to the hospital. She works nightshifts..."

"I know," George replied, cutting him off.

Stephen looked at him a second, questioning why George would know about Reesa's grandmother and then also clicking in the fact that George had a gun, something that had never registered with him before. Stephen was still naïve about being a White House advisor and never really knowing who anyone was in DC; nothing or no one could be taken on face value.

Continuing her accusative interrogation, Lynda finally blurted out the question that had been haunting her the past ten minutes, "You fucked her didn't you? Tell me the truth Stephen, you are fucking that little girl. You fucking bastard, I can't believe you."

Stephen grabbed Lynda's arm tightly, and in her face, very sternly told her, "Shut up Lynda, just shut up about things you know nothing about. For your information, I did not fuck her, we made love. Now get out of here!"

Lynda stood there, shaking, unable to say anything; her perfect match with a DC insider, close friends of the President, shattered. George gently grabbed her arm and started to escort her back to the car to take her home.

As Stephen watched her get into the car, one of the medics came up to him. "Excuse me Mr. Williams, you are Stephen Williams, aren't you? I've seen you on the news."

"Yes? Yes, I am, how is she, what's wrong? Is she going to be OK?"

"It doesn't look like anything too serious, sir, but she'll need a few x-rays before they can say for sure, and probably some stitches. She was beaten pretty badly. But, she is asking for you."

"She can talk?"

"Barely," the medic replied, but Stephen was half-way down the walk to where Reesa was on the gurney before being put into the ambulance.

"Reesa, my god, you gave me the scare of my life. The medics think you'll be OK, though, god what happened to you? Who did this?"

Not having much strength, Reesa signaled for him to come closer. Holding her head, Stephen leaned over, his ear near her mouth.

"White boy..." Stephen turned his head looking into her eyes. She was crying.

"It's OK Reesa, you don't have to say anything."

"Shhhh, white boy. I love you..."