Miss America tells the story of Kamala Harris's days as the first female President of the United States while keeping a fervent affair with her young, quick-witted assistant Kori under wraps during her first term, unveiling the ups and downs of the...
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Outside of Kori's office, the late-night silence was eery. Kamala and Kori sat on opposite sides of her desk while sharing the space. The soft sound of Kamala's pen scrubbing across the paper in her binder while she wrote her upcoming speech and Koris finger lightly tapping against her laptop and phone filled the room as she scrolled through the latest social media posts about Madame President Kamala Harris. It was well past midnight, and the vast, empty halls outside her office seemed to stretch into infinity, but inside, Kori and Kamala sat comfortably in their own bubble of familiarity.
"You sure you don't wanna call it a night? You've been running since 5 AM," Kori said, glancing up at her boss and friend with a small smirk. "Your speech isn't until the end of the week and it's only Monday."
Kamala leaned back in her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She looked tired, the weight of her presidency and the endless work clearly etched on her face, but there was still a warmth to her eyes, a spark that hadn't dimmed despite the long day.
"I'll be fine. Besides, I don't think I can sleep until I know the speech is just right," Kamala replied, glancing at the scattered notes Kori had been tweaking for her upcoming address. "But I appreciate the concern."
Kori smiled softly, shaking her head as she leaned back, stretching her arms behind her. "You're relentless, you know that?"
"Had to be," Kamala chuckled, "Couldn't afford to slow down growing up. You know what it's like."
Kori nodded, her eyes meeting Kamala's. "Oh, I do. My childhood wasn't much different from yours. Little black girl with big dreams. The odds have been stacked against us since we were born. Tough mother raised a tough daughter while also working long hours to make sure my future was bright."
Kamala raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You too?"
Kori laughed softly. "You'd be surprised. My mom was a hardworking woman. I never lacked anything because she always made sure I had it. She worked such long hours though. She barely had time to cook, so I started making meals myself when I was fifteen. Honestly, it's what made me fall in love with food. I'm still in the kitchen whenever I can be."
Kamala's eyes lit up at the mention of food, leaning forward with a playful grin. "Girl, you and me both! Cooking was survival at first for me and Maya, but I grew to love it. It's part of why Doug married me, you know?"
Kori laughed at that, the sound brightening the dim room. "Doug? Seriously?"
Kami nodded, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Oh yeah, that man was eating his way to the altar. I brought a lot of seasoning into his life." She winked. "And I'm not just talking about the food."
Kori rolled her eyes with a grin. "You're a mess."
Kami chuckled, her tone turning more thoughtful. "But really, I think he appreciated the sense of home I brought with me. He was divorced when we met, so a full home was something he longed for. Being a woman of color, soulful cooking was just part of it. I was raised to love big, love fully, and to put alot of love into my meals. Doug, well...he came from a world where things were pretty bland. I think I woke him up."
