Chapter Four
Swing State Rally — Phoenix, Arizona
The Arizona heat beat down on the top of my head, soaking into the black fabric of the Secret Service standard uniform suit that was threatening to choke me alive.
One of the best things about working overseas for the state department in unstable countries had been the fact that most folks over there didn’t give a shit what you looked like so long as you were able to protect them.
I could have shown up in basketball shorts and a t-shirt and they wouldn’t have blinked.
Now I was stuck wearing a tie in what amounted to the heat of Satan’s taint and I was damn near about to melt. But Maverick insisted we look the part, especially seeing as we were now on camera because we were following Lennon closely, so the monkey suit it was and I was about to melt on the spot.
At least I was on one-to-one duty with Lennon and standing off to the side of the temporary stage and in front of a massive shop fan.
I didn’t even want to imagine how the other guys were feeling as they stood in the front of the stage and scanned the crowd of people dressed in ‘HOLLOWAY FOR REELECTION’ gear.
Why anyone thought doing an outdoor rally in the dead of one of the hottest summers on record was a good idea was beyond me.
Not only was it boiling hot, but a bitch to cover protection-wise.
There was added security all around what basically amounted to an open field and temporary towers had been constructed on all four corners of the perimeters to watch the crowd from above in case some nut with a gun decided to try anything funny.
And it wasn’t just for Lennon’s protection either—the vice president was supposed to give a speech after her, though the guy had yet to emerge from his air conditioned tour bus at all today.
I’d always heard that a vice president was supposed to be somewhat of a foil for the president themself—picking up the slack where the president may lack.
In this case Vice President Frank Delano was exactly what Athena Holloway was not: a man. Not only that, he was a man from the deep south of Louisiana that possessed a level of charming charisma that the more stoic Holloway could never possess with her famously known no-bullshit attitude.
President Holloway was incredibly competent and beautiful, but as far as I could tell she easily got lost in the weeds of overexplaining her policy. She was, what most would refer to as, a gigantic political nerd.
Delano, on the other hand, just winked and shot his pearly-white smile at the nearest female reporter and the crowd was mush in his hands. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he himself ran in four years if Holloway was successful in her reelection bid.
“My mother always used to remind me to speak clearly and with a purpose. Dinner table conversation usually consisted of academic-level reports about what my brother and I were learning in school and how it could be applied to other facets of life,” Lennon said, her voice echoing over the crowd of onlookers as she gave them a practiced, wry grin.
“My father, on the other hand, was a dreamer. He saw the best in everyone he met—including my mother who he always viewed as a warrior for justice. He instilled that same mentality in me. Now I dream of a world where the rights of every citizen in this country are enshrined…”
Lennon continued, talking about how omega’s rights differed in all fifty states. No two states treated one of the most vulnerable populations the same.
“Flicker is going off script,” Brooks commented in my ear, his voice colored with surprise.
“POTUS is going to be pissed,” Zeke commented and my eyes found his as he glanced back at the stage, his gaze shifting up to where Lennon was speaking at the podium dressed in a purple skirt-suit that looked far too old for someone like her to be wearing.
It was a far cry to the comfortable sweatpants and t-shirt she usually wore on the tour bus we’d been trapped on together for the past two weeks.
“At least the crowd is eating it up,” I muttered, transfixed despite my reservations about the woman speaking into the microphone.
As Lennon spoke the crowd cheered, underlining her words with applause. Like her mother, Lennon seemed to have a way with words as she shifted the speech back to what had been pre-written down by the president’s speech writers.
“My mother fights and has fought for justice for all of the people living in the United States of America. She has signed bills that federally fund school lunches for all public school children, created initiatives to solve the homelessness crisis, and made strides to socialize healthcare so that you get top-notch care no matter your zip code.”
The spiel oozed with the political vigor that could only be cooked up by some of the best writers in the country, but it was sold by the seeming sincerity in Lennon’s voice.
She was a talented speaker. I had to give her that.
My original opinion that she was just the spoiled, lazy socialite daughter of the president had melted away within the first forty-eight hours of our tour.
Lennon hardly slept, sitting in the living area of the tour bus pouring over the speech drafts and schedule that had been given to her by her mother.
She also had to be reminded to eat and drink water by Alan, the meek assistant who looked equally exhausted from listening to Livvy, Lennon’s actual assistant, bark orders at him on the phone all of the time.
Though I’d never met her, I knew Livvy Powell was a force to be reckoned with even waylaid at home due to the injuries she’d sustained during the kidnapping attempt.
The woman seemed to be of the same breed as her boss: a giant ass work-a-holic who didn’t know when to quit and go the fuck to bed.
I’d seen diplomats abroad who worked less than Lennon Holloway did and Lennon was doing it for free.
It still didn’t mean I wanted to be her friend—though Brooks and Zeke seemed all too happy to fill that role—but I did have the tiniest bit of respect for someone who could dazzle a crowd of thousands with just the sound of her voice.
“So I urge you and anyone who may be watching this. Think about what sort of future you want to see for this country and if that aligns with my mother’s causes, then you should vote for Athena Holloway at the ballot boxes this November. Thank you!”
Lennon waved to the cheering crowd, not a blonde hair out of place before she turned and headed in my direction.
“Flicker is on the move,” I told the guys who immediately jumped into action to start working their way through the crowd, clearing it one last time before they started working on the path back to the tour bus that was parked back behind the stage.
Lennon’s smile was tight as she stepped behind one of the thick velvet curtains. As she approached, I saw the sheen of sweat on her face and noticed how the color had seemingly drained from her cheeks.
Then her knees were crumpling from underneath her as her eyes rolled back into her head.
“Shit,” I cursed as I stepped forward, just barely managing to catch her before she conked her head on the metal flooring of the stage.
“I need help over here,” I barked at one of the stage attendants who stared at me with wide eyes. “Go get a medic—”
“No,” Lennon said weakly as she waved a hand. “I’m fine. No need for medical personnel. It’ll just stop the rally for no reason.”
“That’s utter bullshit,” I snapped at her as I grabbed the hand that was in the air, my fingers sliding along the inside of her wrist to feel her pulse.
It was rapid under my fingertip and her skin was clammy to the touch.
“You need to be looked at, I think you have heat stroke. When was the last time you drank water?”
Lennon seemed to think about that for a moment as the attendant hurriedly brought over a chair and a bottle of water.
“I don’t know, this morning probably?” Lennon said like she was questioning her own memory. “Alan usually makes sure I drink it in the morning…”
I wanted to snarl at the mention of her assistant who was clearly not doing his job correctly if his boss was fainting like this.
My frustration should have stayed inside. That was the professional thing to do. To get Lennon rehydrated and back on the bus. It wasn’t my place to scold her or her assistant.
But unfortunately for both of us I was the least disciplined on my team when it came to keeping my big mouth shut.
“You’re a grown woman, why the hell aren’t you keeping up with your own water intake?”
Lennon blinked her big gray eyes at me like she couldn’t believe I’d just said that to her.
“I do watch my water intake. I just wasn’t expecting it to be a bajillion degrees outside,” she replied scathingly, her cheeks finally flushing with color again which filled me with relief even if it meant she was pissed at me.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I snorted at her words. “Obviously not when you’re fainting like a damsel in distress with just a little bit of sun.”
I definitely should have apologized after that first comment, but I figured my foot was so far in my mouth that there was nowhere else to go but forward.
The attendant’s eyes darted in between me and Lennon before he scurried off as the next person took the stage to give their speech.
“Dallas, you good?” Maverick’s voice filled my ear.
“Yeah,” I replied as Lennon took the tiniest sip of her water and I was filled with the urge to tip the damn thing up so that she actually got some into her system. “Flicker isn’t feeling well. Too much sun. I’m going to give her a few minutes before heading out to you guys to take her to the bus.”
“Do you need us?” Maverick asked, sounding concerned.
“Nah,” I said, turning to look at Lennon who’d grown pale again. I cursed inwardly. “I’ll let you know if I do.”
“Copy that,” Maverick said as I turned to look for something to cool Lennon off with so she didn’t pass out on me again.
If I never returned to Arizona in the summer again it would be all too fucking soon. No one should live where you could fry an egg on the sidewalk and I’d stand by that.