Mr. President Page 21

My eyes flick over to Matt when he stops by the small cafeteria section to pull out a bottle of water. He cracks it open, thoughtful as he looks at the group of women, then raises his head and sees me.

I smile and pass through the door and when my shoulder brushes his, my skin crackles heatedly.

Absently I brush my hand down my arm as I go back to my desk.

I’m going through my pile of letters when Carlisle stops by my desk.

“Matt wants you to be his new scheduler,” Carlisle says.

I start in surprise. “Me?”

“You’ll need to be open to traveling; we’ll be visiting all fifty states. It’s a good idea for there to be only one scheduler or else a ton of mix-ups can arise. Trust me—not fun to have something in New Hampshire an hour before you have something in San Francisco.”

I gape at him.

“Let’s run down what’s expected of you for the following months,” Carlisle begins.

I’m briefed in a six-by-six room on my duties as political scheduler.

“As our one and only scheduler, you’re to oversee Matt’s agenda for the entire campaign. You’ll have political aides and advance teams to organize, you’ll book his gym workouts, make sure the planes and buses are all stocked with essentials, organize the rallies and his every social and personal engagement for the rest of the year. We need a good balance among all his engagements. Do you think you can do that?”

My head is spinning, but I force myself to reply. “I . . . if Matt thinks I can, then I can,” I say bravely.

He shoots me a dire look. “Just to be clear, a scheduling mistake could cost us the whole campaign. Every minute and second must be accounted for. His father’s scheduler remained at headquarters during his campaign, but Matt wants a more hands-on approach.”

He seems concerned about my ability to do the job, so I nod more firmly than necessary.

“Rhonda will be on press coordination, but she can help if you get stuck in any part of the process; she’ll fill you in on any questions you might have.”

Matt comes in to see Carlisle, and when my arm brushes his as I pass through the door, my skin crackles heatedly.

I’m smoothing fingers over the tingling skin of my upper arm as I head to my table when Carlisle’s assistant approaches.

“Charlotte—” She points in the direction of the floor where Matt has his office. “You’ll be over here now, outside Matt’s office.”

I swallow, then start gathering my personal things, more determined than ever to make a difference and prove to myself that I can.

13

WARNING

Charlotte

It’s my first day as his official scheduler when I arrive at campaign headquarters the following Monday, step off the elevator, and immediately get to work.

I’m determined to impress and be as kick-ass as everyone on Team Hamilton is proving to be. Especially now that I’m his scheduler; there’s only one of me.

I’m trying to get into the meat of Matt’s most pressing things-to-do when Rhonda appears.

“How are we doing?” she asks me as she approaches.

“Great!” I grin, then spread out a few pages with scattered itineraries—it takes work to really oversee Matt’s schedule, not only because it’s his, but because it involves so many people. “I’m a bit concerned I’m losing some valuable time with the times it takes for the team to arrive by bus—I wonder if I shouldn’t make use of that time somehow for Matt.”

Rhonda drags a chair over and looks at the pages. Matt doesn’t want to plaster slogans across every town and city in the continental United States; he’s doing aggressive online campaigns with both personal opinions and proposed solutions. But even with the online campaign, his schedule is killer.

It could literally kill a man that wasn’t as energetic as this one is.

I can’t imagine either President Jacobs or Gordon Thompson, the Republican front-runner, both much older and much less athletic, enduring it.

As the main scheduler and as we embark on the touring of the country, I’ll be working in the field now. Rather than being cooped up in headquarters, I will be out there, overseeing all the local field campaign aides, ensuring everything runs smoothly on every location and engagement Matt is in.

Rhonda has made it repeatedly clear that my job is to manage both Matt’s personal and professional schedules, and not only that, but I’m to manage the advance teams that will arrive at each location before Matt does to make sure everything is as it should be. She tells me that a good flow of scheduling is paramount for the most effective campaigning. That I need to focus on Matt’s personal time first and foremost, then shoot for a balance between events aimed at high schools, veterans, industrials, the average working man. I am to include all minorities, and definitely women and young people, who seem to be his most devoted fans. To this list, after talking it over with the managers, I’m adding hospitals and hospices in the mix as well.

“He needs time to run every day. Every single day, be sure to give him an hour’s run and at least a half hour to shower and prep for the day. Trust me, he’s on the ball and so much sharper when he’s started his day with that. Add a night off during the weekends so he can see his friends and family or simply have time on his own,” she said when she first explained this to me.

“Just one night off?” I’m appalled to think he’s working so much.

“Only one—that came from Matt himself,” Rhonda assured me, but she looked as wide-eyed and concerned as I did.

Now we sit here as we jointly create his first active campaigning schedule, one where he’ll be traveling extensively.

As Gordon Thompson and Harold Jacobs are throwing themselves full-fledged into their campaigns, so are we. Our first states to visit are states known to be primarily red or blue, which means Texas for primarily Republican and California for primarily Democratic.

“Charlotte, there’s been talk.”

I lift my head. “Excuse me?”

“Some of the aides.” She signals out the door. “They talk about Matt paying more attention to you. Alison has appeased them that you’re childhood friends, but I’d still like to give you some friendly advice.”

I feel so shocked and uncomfortable at the thought of anyone assuming anything outrageous that I’m mute, unblinking as I meet Rhonda’s friendly but concerned gray gaze.