Page 83 of Enemy of My Enemy

“Shit, Pete, slide me my briefcase, will ya?”

From the end of the table, Pete shoved Gus’s briefcase down the polished wood, the leather squeaking as it spun until Gus caught it two-handed and dragged it close.

Ethan’s foot nudged Jack’s beneath the table. Their eyes met.

“So, Mr. President,” Gus began, pulling out a notepad and a stack of clipped newspapers all about Jack and his presidency. “Your poll numbers are rotting at thirty-six percent. Your party isn’t taking your calls anymore. You’re getting lambasted by that Senator for your business deal in Russia. You have a gigantic, sucking image problem.”

“To put it simply.”

“Which is fucking astounding, because over fifty percent of Americans support same-sex relationships. And, both of you are relatively young. In decent shape. Some would call you good-looking.”

Jack pressed his lips together, desperately trying not to laugh. At his side, Ethan blinked, once, twice, three times.

“The media in this country is almost solidly liberal leaning and should automatically love everything you are. It’s built-in support. So, how on God’s green earth did you fuck this up?”

Silence.

“I’ll tell you why.” Gus slid the stack of newspapers across the table, patting them with his palm. “Because you haven’t done jack shit for yourselves in the press.”

“Thank you,” Brandt singsonged beneath his breath.

Ethan shot him a mock glare. Pete tried to smother his own grin.

Gus gestured wildly, almost bouncing in his chair. “You’ve let jackasses like Senator Allen run the media for you. Putting out their own spin on your lives. Everyonebutyou has an opinion on you. It’s time to join the game, ladies and gentleman. Well, gentleman and gentleman.” He shrugged at his own slip.

“What do you suggest?”

“First, you gotta get in front of the media more. You gotta be more personable. The White House looks like a secret society right now, and everyone wonders what kind of crazy sex games are going on in there. I mean, your staff is crazy loyal. Freakin’ insanely loyal. But that’s also a mystery because you’re not human to anyone in the public. You’re this mysterious other thing, weird Ken dolls, and no one likes weird.” Gus didn’t hold his punches.

Brandt cleared his throat. “People should see you for how dedicated you are.”

“You just have to be you. Both of you. Anyone who really knows you both loves you guys.” Pete shrugged, pursed his lips, and played with his pen.

For a moment, there was silence as Jack squeezed Ethan’s hand.

Gus rolled his eyes. “Look, has Pete told you what I do?” Gus pointed at himself as he leaned over the table, and his thick reading glasses slid down his nose. His hair, more gone on top than actually present, was combed over, the strands left trying valiantly to cover his shiny scalp.

“Not in a great deal of specificity,” Jack demurred.

“I’m a fixer. I fix things. Mostly campaigns. I can turn a struggling campaign around and win an election, for anybody. I’m gold.” His fingers tapped the table, punctuating his words. “And I am what you need to win.”

“We’re not in an election.”

“No, but you do need to win back the American people in order to govern. To get anything done. You’ve lost them, somehow.” Gus leaned back, his hands in the air as he boggled the ceiling. “And I can help you do that.”

Jack looked to Ethan, his eyebrows raised. Ethan gave him a tiny smile and rubbed his ankle with his foot.

“How? What do you propose?”

“God, everything. A complete overhaul, from top to bottom. Rework your press, your media approach. Do interviews, get people to actually like you for a change. Woo the media, which should be eating out of your hands anyway. Pete told me you want to show your stripes a bit more. Be who you are with the first gentleman.”

Jack was nodding along, agreeing in principle to Gus’s points. “And yes, definitely that.”

“Good, good. No more of this hiding crap. And,” Gus added, “you’ve got to ditch the Republican Party.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “What?” Beside him, Ethan stiffened, the lightness of the room suddenly vanished.

“What are you sticking around for?” Gus frowned at Jack. “Your party is in open revolt, they don’t take your calls on the Hill, and they’re actively duking it out to see who your successor is. Never in American politics have people so actively worked against the leader of their own party, the sitting president. Why the fuck do you stay?”