The Candidate ✓ (Book Two)

Chapter Eleven

Lauren's P.O.V, Day one as the Director

  So this is it. I've finally done it. In less than two hours, when I go into work, my official picture will be taken and put into the hall of directors. Most of them- with the exception of two or three, are old white straight men. That alone wouldn't be a problem- but every director of color and the one gay director were all in the past twenty years. It's sad that it's taken this long for there to be a woman- me, in that office.

  You'd think with the progress America has made that it would've happened sooner. Regardless, I'm here now. I've already taken the oath, so if something were to somehow happen to me on the way over there, my picture would still go in that hallway- a stark contrast to the others. I picture  the reaction of a government official visiting from a more sexist country now.

  Man, man, man,man, man, man, man, man... woman?

  I take a deep breath. I've already been out under a microscope why how viral many of my speeches have gone, so I really can't afford to fuck up. After talking to the two living directors- they told me the first day is simultaneously the hardest and easiest. Hardest because they said to throw away everything you think you know about the position- easiest because it's the first day and I'll just be settling into my office unless something comes up that has to be done right now.

  Kendra's busy with a business meeting. I could get just about any cosmetologist or stylist in the country for today- but I don't feel like it.

  I brush through my tangled hair. It's already naturally straight- just with the slightest bit of wave, so I don't bother with all of the extra steps Kendra normally does. I simply spray an anti-Frizz in it and call it a day. In the closet, my eyes scan over the endless collection of pantsuits and dresses. With a mental image of the other portraits- I remember how boring the other ones outfits were- black or tan suits with no color.

  Fucking lame asses.

  I reach for the brightest thing in my closet- a neon pink pantsuit. It's classy enough enough to be considered a work outfit while also being a giant fuck you to the sexist policies the FBI has at the very beginning of it's creation that would've prevented a female from being the director.

  I slip on a pair of matching flats just to really polish the fuck you off. I do natural makeup so it's not overkill, and grab one of my oversized black purses.

  While I'd prefer to drive myself, the FBI has drivers for high ranking officials- so i decide to utilize them today. I pick up my phone and punch in one of the driver's numbers. He picks up immediately.

  "Director Wells- hey. Do you need a ride?" He yawns. It's early- so I imagine he just woke up.

  "Yes please." I give him my address, and he hangs up. Guess he's not used to people being nice to him.

  I hear Kyle just now getting up, the bed creaking as he shifts his body weight- footsteps walking to the bathroom. The driver should be here in a few minutes, so I knock on the open bathroom door.

  "My driver's  gonna be here in five minutes." I state, and his eyes widen. He quickly spits the toothpaste out and grabs a random suit out of his closet. He's ready to go in less than two minutes.

  "I am so, so sorry-"

  "Kyle, don't." I smile, shaking my head. "A President's family is never late to anything, remember?"

  He has a speech in about an hour that he was supposed to be at right..now. Otherwise, he would've come with me today. I hear my driver pull up outside, and give him a quick goodbye kiss.