Presidential Pursuit: A Kamala Harris lesbian love story

Chapter 8

Friday

Friday was the worst day of my life.

Okay, maybe not the worst, but definitely top three.

The day started off fine. I went through my usual routine of waking up, questioning my sanity, thinking about Kamala, and getting ready for work. I made sure to look presentable for the network. Even though I wouldn't be anywhere near the cameras, I was well aware that image is everything.

I met up with Katherine in her office around eleven, as she had requested, though I wasn't sure why. We wouldn't be leaving for Behind the Curtains until twelve thirty. She was acting really strange—fidgety and quiet, two descriptors I would never attach to her name. When I stepped into the room, she was pacing back and forth, biting her nails.

"Goooood morn... um, Kat, are you okay?" I asked, quickly changing my chipper mood into a concerned one.

"Emily! Yeah, totally." She looked surprised to see me, and she was lying, but I didn't need my powers for that; it was written all over her face. A monkey could've figured that out.

"No, you're not. What happened?"

"Uh... nothing, nothing at all," she said with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, okay, nice try."

She stopped pacing and looked at me with tight knit brows and a hesitant bite to her bottom lip. There was something in her eyes—something I'd never seen before, but I couldn't quite figure it out. Maybe worry? Uncertainty? I truly had no idea.

"Emily... I—" She stopped talking and continued to stare at me.

"Come on, Katherine, you're kind of scaring me," I said, scratching my head and nervously smiling at her.

She stayed silent for a few moments longer in the same position, and I waved my hands in front of her face.

"Hellooo! Earth to Katherine?"

She stepped forward, invading my personal space.

"Emily, I think th—you ne—you should know—actually, never mind. Not important. I gotta go. I'll meet you guys there. Don't wait for me."

She exited the room hastily without an explanation, and I was left pondering what the fuck that was all about. I'd never seen her like that. She was always so composed, ready to chat about anything and everything, but I brushed it off. Or at least I tried to. The little interaction left a terrible taste in my mouth.

That's when I should've known everything would go south.

We all left in separate cars. I was supposed to ride with Katherine, but she ditched me, and Kamala rode in one of the cars with her stupid husband. My disdain for him had been growing at alarming rates. Every time I see them together, That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber starts playing in my head. I know it's illogical; technically, I'm the side piece, and I'm ruining their marriage, but I hate him. Plus, you can't break something that's already broken. There must've already been a crack—I just stuck my fingers in it... well, not yet, but hopefully soon. And hopefully, a lot more than a finger.

When we got to the studio, there were a good thirty minutes of pleasantries backstage. Everyone wanted to greet Kamala. Doug was an afterthought, but he shook a lot of hands too. My eyes were on the president the whole time, and every so often, in the middle of charming the crew with that big, beautiful smile of hers, she would glance over in my direction. It was very reassuring because I was completely overwhelmed, and my heart melted a little more each time she did it. A few people came up to me as well, and I introduced myself as the president's executive assistant. Each time, I was met with a rather unusual response. One guy's face completely expanded before quickly returning to normal, and the other two women who approached me together immediately looked at each other after I said it. I felt completely out of the loop. Was I missing something?