The English Enchantment (Ralph Fiennes)

Chapter 8: "Politically Correct"

Chapter 8: "Politically Correct"

"Fuck him! Fuck him and his whole god damned campaign! I'm going to obliterate him! I'm going to make him wish he'd never even ran in the first place! I'm gonna cut him and his entire family into god damned bits and feed 'em to the fucking fishes! I have family members in the Armenian mafia, Ginnifer, I know how to take out the trash!"

"Ariel, stop. You need to take a breath... calm down."

Ariel had always gotten heated rather easily; it was one of her unfortunate flaws. Yet this time... This time was different. Paul had taken advantage of my position at that office. Paul had involuntary pimped me out for his own political gain. Her reaction was justified. 

"I can't do this anymore..." She threw her hands above her head in distress. "I can't continue running a campaign for fucking Lucifer, himself. That's it, Ginnifer, I mean it! I quit!"

"Ariel, we both know that if you lose this position, you'll never be able to run another campaign in you're lifetime... not to mention what else you'd be losing..."

Her hardened even more abruptly than before. "I've not the slightest idea what you're talking about."

You see, Ariel would forever pride herself on her ability to keep her truer intentions masked from all of society... but I knew her better than she knew herself. I read her like a good baptist reads their bible on a Sunday morning. I knew why she'd really shined Paul's big leather circus shoes before every swine-infested publicity gathering. I knew why she took advantage of each opportune moment to bend over backwards and kiss Paul's tyrannical ass.

She wanted something. Wanted it from the very beginning.

"You're going to run next term, Ariel. Be a big girl and just admit to it."

Her words nervously clustered into one interlaced stammer. "Wha-what?! I-I most certainly am n-... Amb-Ginnifer, I never sai-... I just, I-"

"Stop. You don't need to explain yourself to me, Ariel, you know that."

"Ginnifer, I was going to tell you. After Paul won, I was going to tell you. I swear it."

"Look, I'm not upset with you." I rested my hand across her shoulder. "I'm, I'm just surprised, really. You'd always told me you hated the faux smiles and expensive suits. I honestly didn't think it was something that mattered to you."

"It never used to... I guess I just decided to finally take off my rose colored glasses and see our country for what it really is. I figured if I could put up with Paul's shenanigans on a day-to-day basis, I might have what it takes."

Simultaneous smiles gave our minds a bit of ease.

"You do have what it takes, Ariel. That's precisely why you can't afford lose this job. Not now."

"But, Paul-"

"I can handle Paul. It's nothing I'm not already used to," I laughed. "I'll go out with Ralph this Saturday and exchange the UNICEF contract... You'll continue to bite your tongue through Paul's temper tantrums for the remainder of this campaign... And life will go on just as swimmingly as before."

She glared hesitantly for a few moments, then took a sigh of acceptance. "Okay... But Paul tries another stunt like this and we both pull out of the campaign. No excuses. Got it?"

"One hundred percent."

*****************

Amber's Journal

Saturday, 9:22am

Fuck. Fucking-Fuck Fuck Fuck!!!

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to wear. Is this a date? Did Paul make this a date? Crap, it's probably a date. Why couldn't we just do this over a casual cup of joe? Did I just write cup of joe? Who the fuck talks like that?! A fucking imbecile like me, that's who.

God damn it. God-fucking-damn it!

*ding!*

iMessage:

9:23am

Good morning Amber,

My sincerest apologies for the delay in contacting you. Due to a scheduling mishap, I will be unable to pick you up, personally, like I'd originally intended. A car will be by your apartment at 5 to escort you to the jet. I will meet you, following your arrival, at the NY airport.

I hope you will forgive my tardiness. I look forward to seeing you this evening.

Ralph F.

Wait... Jet? New York!? I thought we'd go somewhere in Wisconsin. I mean an Olive Garden or something. Nothing flashy. I don't deserve something flashy.

Crap, I'm going to be sick. I'm going to ruin this somehow, I just know it!  I'll say something I'm not supposed to and ruin all ties he could have to Paul's campaign. Hell, I'll probably arrive hideously underdressed and he'll think that I'm an even larger disaster than he had before. Fuck, I'll forget to grab the correct papers again and Paul will fire the whole fucking town because of my ignorant ass.

I'm going to fuck this up. I'm going to fuck this up beyond compare.

...excellent.