Stolen Moments

Chapter One

To say that Fitzgerald Grant III was a despairing man living in a rather dreary existence is an understatement. He downed his whiskey with eyes soaked in melancholy and leaned back into his plush but firm office chair. His office was drenched in the waning light of day, slightly overcast with red from the admirable sunset that Fitz bothered not to glance at. There was a deep mahogany desk with trinkets sprinkled at its edge, arranged by his wife, Mellie, and a rug, gifted to him by his dear friend, that had been imported from an antique shop in London. A tall lamp stood proudly in the corner, more for decor really, since Fitz rarely used it. Books were organized alphabetically on a dark bookshelf that rested to the left of his desk, covered with glass doors in order to seal them away from dust and premature destruction. The room itself was painted a rich brown that made it seem to close in on anyone who stepped foot inside, especially the man who spent the most time there; Fitz. The liquor burned down his throat with each sip he took, but he enjoyed the sensation since it distracted him greatly from the woes of his day that he could not seem to escape.

Fitz found it difficult not to sigh when he heard a meek and timid Mellie Grant outside his door. She was debating with herself on whether or not to call Cyrus to fix the mess that she had unwillingly orchestrated or to simply talk to her husband and calm his raging nerves. Her throat pulsed lightly, forcing her to clutch her stomach in attempts to keep the rising bile down, but she couldn't seem to, and so she fled from the door to Fitz's office and sought refuge in her bathroom, where she puked from anxiety and sorrow. Fitz knew she was gone when he heard the pitter-ing and patter-ing of her feet on the dark, wooden floors of their home, and exhaled gratefully at the realization.

He reached for the phone cordless phone that occupied the right corner of his desk and dialed the familiar pattern of digits.

"Cyrus Beene," Fitz's mentor and previous campaign manager answered. Cyrus was resting with an undone tie around his neck and feet kicked upon a creme colored ottoman; A habit that his wife, Janet, reprimanded him for doing. His dirty shoes tended to leave atrocious stains on the furniture that she had to scrub out. Cyrus accepted the glass of iced tea from the wife that he sort of loved and attempted to zero in on whatever Fitz needed. Though Cyrus had developed a bit of love for Fitz in a sort of father-son, brother-brother type way, he knew that Fitz was his way into the place that ran the entire country; The White House. Cyrus had already managed to get Fitz to the governor of California, but his term was nearing its end, and he was such a favorite among the people that Cyrus thought the next move was to push him into the upcoming presidential election. So Cyrus would oblige whatever Fitz needed; When Fitz won office, Cyrus figured he would earn the title 'Chief of Staff' for his hard work and allegiance to Fitz.

"My father raped Mellie," was how Fitz replied. Cyrus sat upright in his recliner and decided against a sip of his iced tea, since it had become evident that he wouldn't be able to predict anything else that Fitz would say. Fitz had now chosen to stare out of his window at the setting sun and its backdrop. He had to admit; It was beautiful. The sight made him wonder how many times he had neglected to marvel at such an exquisite view. It also made him wonder who else was gazing at the same sky.

"Your father what?" Though Cyrus was caught off guard, his tone remained placid and low with the same raspy timbre that it always held. Fitz took another sip of his whiskey, letting it sizzle down his esophagus. His eyes never left the sky that mirrored many a painting, its colors blended so swiftly and seamlessly.

"My father raped Mellie, and now some moral lacking reporter is going to leak photos to the press unless we pay him."

"I just needed to make sure that I heard you right," Cyrus confirmed. Despite the fact that he had just arrived home and settled in less than twenty minutes ago, Cyrus was again tying up his scarlet colored tie and grabbing his briefcase. The last thing Cy needed was a scandal in the media that did anything for Fitz but exalt him further than they already had. Photos of Big Jerry and Mellie engaging in sexual activity was going to put Fitz's name in the media, alright, but his name was not going to be associated with words like 'hero' and 'charming'. It would be with words like 'disgrace' and 'repulsive'. "I need you to make sure that you, Mellie, and Jerry stay inside your houses. I'm on my way."