...Crushes...

"It turns out, your ex here has a wonderful memory," Leah said. "Apart from Dr. Jones-Ali, your first crush was your babysitter. She started watching you when you were seven and she was 13, and didn't stop until you were 12 and she was 18. At the time, she was Julie Hart. These days, she goes by Julie Halley. Let's all give her a hand."

*****

This had not been Julie's day.

Really, the days when Julie had days had ended sometime around the Not Julie's Day that found her staring down positive pregnancy test number three, just before she would have turned 20. That one had kicked off a string of Not Julie's Days, among whose greatest hits included the day she had dropped out of teacher's college to pursue a career in immediate bill paying, and the day she'd moved from beautiful upstate New York to muddy, gray, Hackensack, Indiana in order to find support with Wayne, the father's, extended family. And while her marriage to Wayne actually had been one of her few silver linings over the years, she'd been so morning sick during her actual wedding that it really hadn't been one of her days either.

But to whatever extent she still had days, this was emphatically not one of them.

The nadir had come in the afternoon, when she'd blown one of only ten vacation days granted to Rural King managers to meet with her daughter Stacy's teachers. Stacy had never been a motivated or especially gifted student; was in fact, more of a socialite than a scholar. But as she'd wrapped up her junior year, her grades had seemed to be improving. Bs in her third quarter, Bs in her 4th quarter midterm, Bs on her 4th quarter report card.

But looks, as it turned out, could be deceiving. Somewhere along the line, Julie's little teenage delinquent had discovered that strategic applications of pen to report cards could easily turn Ds and Fs into Bs. And, as a result, Julie had walked into a group conference with her teachers feeling sunny and optimistic, only to be ambushed by questions like "How did you not know?", "What kind of guidance is Stacy getting at home?", "Why didn't you bother checking with us?", and implicit beneath all of them, "What kind of mother are you, anyway?"

All the way home, Julie had crystalized that humiliation, sharpening it into the righteous anger she'd need in her inevitable battle with Stacy. Her car was in the driveway. That was good. But when she stormed into the house, rearing for a fight, all she found was a tired Wayne, watching TV in his work jeans and flannel with a beer in his hand.

"Where is Stacy?" Julie demanded.

"Her friend Holly came by, so I let her run off with her. Figure I might as well, as good as she's been lately."

His face changed as he saw the expression on her face, and then again as all the pieces fell in place. He didn't turn angry. He only looked hurt, and infinitely weary. Suddenly, the fine rage she'd been honing all day melted away, and she fell back on the couch looking as tired as he did.

"Where did I go wrong?" she asked, after a brief explanation. "She stood right there and ate up our praise. All while she was lying to us."

"I know it," Wayne said tiredly. "I told her an hour ago how proud I was of her. She gave me one of those big smiles… I think she was in a hurry to go so she could beat you getting here."

"I feel like such an idiot," she said with a sigh. "We need to go nuclear on this one. Groundings. Taking the car… whatever it takes."

"Yup. Might want to take her phone, too," he agreed.

She looked at her husband.

"Are you okay? You look like hell."

"Rodney called off again, so I had to do a double again."

She did a little math in her head. He'd have been working for what? 20 straight hours?

"Go to bed. Get some rest," Julie said. "I'll deal with Stacy when she gets back."

"You may as well rest up with me," He said. "Doubt she's even coming back tonight, and I sleep better when you're there anyway."

She thought about it, then nodded her acquiescence.

"Alright. Let's go," she said.

She followed him into the bedroom, slipping out of her jeans and into an old t-shirt, and was about to slip into bed with him. She'd take a nap, then get up and fortify herself with a glass or two of the Mexican wine she kept beneath the sink. And then she'd prepare her weary heart for the inevitable war with her daughter.

That's when everything started to go swimmy.

*****

Jake was a little surprised when he saw Julie emerge from the room he'd, by now, heard plenty about. The vivacious, athletic volleyball player who'd babysat him as a teen had grown into a plump, tired looking woman, whose lustrous blonde hair was duller than he'd remembered it.

The babysitters of Jake's youth had generally come in one of two varieties; boring ones, who only stayed to make sure the house didn't burn down, and fun ones who brought games, engaged with he and Megan, and made a point of entertaining as well as simply watching them. Julie had been in that latter category, but the woman before him now simply seemed haggard.

By the time she got to the lounge, she looked confused.

"I read the rules. Is this where I was supposed to go?"

She clearly didn't recognize any of them, but then again, how could she? She'd met him, Ryan and Megan before, but likely hadn't seen any of them since she was a teenager herself.

"Juju!" Megan said with a bright smile, invoking the name a tiny version of her had once called her.

That's when it dawned on her.

"Are you… the Coopers?" Julie asked. "Megan and Jake?"

"Very good!" Leah congratulated her, "They are, and Jake here is your new master."

She gave him a skeptical look.

"Jake that used to eat crayons that were named after food?" she said, "I doubt that."

"Well, regardless," Leah said, "We have only a few more contestants left to introduce. And a credit to Ryan, he correctly predicted our next contestant. Please welcome the high school cheerleader Jake always had eyes for, Loretta Lane!"

"Loretta who?" Jake asked.

*****

The woman who had, until 5 years ago, gone by Loretta Carville, Lovely Loretta by her many teenage admirers in the greater Buffalo area, and Whoretta by an almost equal number of detractors, strode through the United States Capitol Building with all the intent and purpose of one of its resident representatives.

She wasn't, though one wouldn't know it from the retinue of suits that trailed along either side of her; a phalanx of security guards and aides that escorted her to the offices of one Hunter Lane, the distinguished representative from North Carolina's 4th Congressional district.

Distinguished for now, anyway. She wondered what had her summoned to her husband's offices this time.

She was the sort of woman that heads turned for; leggy and slender with an hourglass figure, full breasts and a long mane of fiery red hair that fell to her waist. Her emerald eyes shone with intelligence and, at the moment, a fiery intensity that made them difficult to hold. She wore a tight fitting red dress and matching pumps that, if she deigned to see her husband at all, would hopefully remind him of what he was choosing not to come home to.

The person to tell her sat behind a large oaken desk with a phone to her ear. She wore a blue skirt suit, and hot pink heels resting on its surface as she leaned back.

"No, dumbass," Miranda Pollard, Hunter's Chief of Staff said sharply into the receiver, "This story didn't happen. We have no idea what the fuck anyone is talking about, and your job right now is to look as clueless as humanly possible. Comprende?"

She nodded and smiled as she listened to the response.

"Sounds perfect. You're the best, babe."

She slammed the phone down and turned to Loretta.

"You got a second to talk?"

"I wouldn't have walked all the way down here if I didn't," Loretta said.

She became aware that she was drawing stares. Well… she was always drawing stares, but the staffers in the room were eying her particularly intently, and quickly examining something else when she returned the favor.

"Come on," Miranda said, waving her into a small conference room.

"Who was it this time?" Loretta asked when the heavy door shut behind her.

"One of our staffers. A girl in policy," Miranda said. "I'm really sorry. I..."

Loretta held up a hand.

"I know who I married, Miranda. That isn't your fault," she said. "Have you fired her?"

Miranda barked a laugh.

"Fired her? She'll be lucky if I don't have her fucking killed."

Loretta sighed.

"If you fire her, she'll just go to the media," she said. "Give me her info. I'll call her and try to patch things up."

"Seriously?" Miranda asked. "You're going to reach out to her yourself?"

Loretta was losing patience with this. She liked Miranda, but what she needed now was the woman's cooperation, and fast.

"Every minute we spend talking this over is a moment she's calling people about it. Friends and relatives if we're lucky, reporters if we're not," Loretta explained, "Get me her goddamn number so I can start fixing this."

The dutiful aid nodded, and texted her the info. After that, she sighed and shook her head.

"He really doesn't fucking deserve you," She said. "How on earth do you put up with it?"

There were a million ways she could answer that. "Because I love my lifestyle," "Because I graduated into being a housewife and haven't actually worked for myself yet," "Because it's still a man's world where I chose to settle down, I sure as hell couldn't get here by myself, and at this point I've made my bed and want to have children sometime in the reasonably near future, and despite being a complete horse's ass, Hunter is still the best candidate I have."

They were all good answers, but all she said was, "He's my husband. I made my commitments. Where is he, anyway?"

"Off at the Party office," Miranda said. "I guess he decided it was a good time to do some of the fundraising calls we're always on him about. No doubt where Barney can protect him. That ghoul won't allow anyone to get to him as long as he's making calls."

The ghost of a smile crossed Loretta's lips.

"Oh, he'd let me. I'm more persuasive than you think."

Miranda gave her a long, hard look.

"You know, sometimes..." she started to say, "I wish it you sitting in that office. I'd love to be working for you instead of him."

Loretta was more pleased by than she would have admitted, but didn't allow herself to dwell on it.

"Well, I'm not. And I have a mess to clean up." she said. "Would you mind letting me have some space while I decide whether or not I want to see his face tonight?"

"Gladly," Miranda said with a nod, "and if there's anything you need from me..."

Loretta nodded and she dismissed her, leaning back in her seat. It was all a disaster. She was pretty sure she could smooth this over, but it would only be a Pyrrhic victory. Whether it was this crisis or some other, that her husband's thorough exploration of DC pussy would end his career was a matter of if, not when. She wondered which of his dalliances would break to the public. This one? His personal trainer? Representative Lena Hatfield? That one would really be something, as it would take down two Congressmen for the price of one.

Whoever it was, sooner or later, she knew she'd find herself behind him at a podium, head held high in her best Tammy Wynette impression as she pretended to support him through the train wreck she saw coming in slow motion. She wondered if even that would stop him.

Loretta sighed, and reached for the phone, determined to delay the inevitable by at least patching things up with this latest transgression. Then, everything began to get hazy...

*****

Jake waited for the named woman to appear, unsure of who it actually was. But as soon as he saw her, a flood of old emotions ran through him. Glimpses of pale thighs beneath cheerleading skirts, of throaty laughs at other boys he always wished he was, at beauty he thought unattainable, if only because he hadn't grown his own inner confidence yet.

Even after the 15 years since he'd seen her, Loretta was so stunning that he was, temporarily, reduced to the 15 year old boy he'd once been ogling her. As she crossed the step stones with remarkable grace in spite of her high heels, she looked up at him with a glance that looked almost appreciative. Intrigued, even. And it reminded him how far removed he was from the awkward teenager of his past.

Emily eyed her skeptically.

"This was your dream girl in high school?"

Jake thought, in his defense, that Loretta would have been a lot of boys' dream girls.

"Hello Loretta," he said. "I'm… sorry you got dragged into all this. My name's Jake. You knew me back in-"

She gave him a disarming smile.

"High school! Of course I remember you, Jake!" she said. "We took American History together."

Jake, who had no idea what they'd taken together, only nodded, impressed by the fact that she even knew who he was.

She took a seat among the others, turning to Megan.

"You must be his sister. You grew up so pretty!"

Megan blushed.

"Uh… thanks," she stammered, brushing an auburn bang back from her head. She was almost as red as her hair.

"Moving right along," Leah interrupted, "Not every contestant on this show is someone our hero even likes. In fact, there's two for which he, and they, hold a distinct hostility."

Jake felt his stomach tighten. He suddenly knew exactly who the next two names would be.