Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“...and it is as clear now as it has ever been, supply side economic incentives are the best way to generate wealth for everyone in this great nation.”

Reagan stood at the podium, his eyes gently swaying from the top of one journalist head to another, never making eye contact with anyone. Nobody would be able to tell though. Each word dripped with the most authentic sincerity his devious heart could inauthentically conjure. The inflection of his phrases, and tone of his voice might have been different, but Reagan was still most in his element when speaking to a crowd.

Each of the reporters might have been numb to the rhetoric by that point in their careers, unfazed by yet another politician doing the same old song and dance. A transgender republican wasn’t even the novelty it once was since Caitlynn Jenner’s failed attempt at a congressional seat in the previous midterms. The only surprising thing about this election to them was the likelihood of a democrat taking the senate seat for Florida. Reagan knew all this, but these people weren’t his audience. Yet the fact he could stand in front of them and command their attention made him feel much more like his true self, not the person he saw in his vanity mirror every morning as he made up his face.

Reagan’s audience were the people at home. Libertarians, people who consider themselves only fiscally conservative, republicans who were **** enough to play ball with a queer so long as their profits didn’t suffer, and their taxes didn’t go up, and most of all, the chaos gremlins on the internet who are first and foremost concerned with “owning the libs”, each of these people was a vote for Reagan so long as he composed himself well, and didn’t accidentally say something that could be considered a little too socialist. All of those people, plus the groundswell of support he was getting from the left, given his opponent's alleged history of sexual misconduct, there was a good chance he could actually win the thing, so long as his people kept that story from blowing over, and the money didn’t dry up.

“I have time for one final question. You,” Reagan pointed to a reporter from some lifestyle magazine, aiming for a softball so he could end on high note.

“Yes, Miss Demir, many of our readers admire the way a woman like you can seem to have it all. We’ve all heard the tabloid reports about you and Elias Arnoult. I have to ask, where did you get that cute dress you wore when we saw that long kiss goodnight?”

“Oh, uh…” That night meeting Eva’s brother for the interview flashed quickly through his mind, his stomach churning at the memory of kissing the man. The revulsion hit him even harder when a photo of the event hit the presses. Not only did he kiss another male, but the whole world knew it. That was the entire point of the outing , but it didn’t sit well in Reagan’s psyche.

Planting someone in attendance to call upon for a nothing question - something for just a sound bite, was a strategy he’d used many times before, and one that had served him well, but this was the first time he tried it since getting conscripted into the ranks of the fairer sex.

A range of emotions washed over the candidate. Despite the role he was supposed to be playing, he couldn’t quell the swell of shame that filled him when he realized the entire state knew he’d been kissed by a man. It was like seeing that image the day after all over again, and again. Reagan felt like he’d lost a part of himself he could never get back, and it saddened him. He also felt extremely angry because anger felt like he was doing something, even though he could only quietly seethe, and attempt to answer the woman’s question while keeping a smile plastered on his face.

‘How the hell am I supposed to know that? I’m a man, dammit!’

“I don’t know much about things like that.” he said through clenched teeth, the muscles of his face clearly struggling to maintain the expression. “There’s a girl in the office who takes care of those things for me. Also, this press conference was to discuss my financial plan I’d be proposing to the White House come January, but thanks for your question. Have a nice evening everyone.”

He backed away from the podium and waved goodbye to the cameras, knowing the damage had already been done. He just didn’t know how bad it would get before it got better. Hearing that question, the realization of the gravity of the charade he had committed himself to flowed through Reagan like a current.

Walking like a woman, something Eva made him practice over and over again, no longer required executive function. The way he swayed his hips, stepping one foot in front of the other in his pumps, wasn’t something he even paid attention to anymore, but suddenly becoming very aware of that fact only made it hit him harder.

‘Come on, Reagan, we can’t normalize this shit.’ he thought to himself, smoothing the skirt of his dress, taking his seat in the back of the chauffeured vehicle, legs pressed firmly together, as he swung them inside behind him.

At campaign headquarters, Ryan Davis shook his head at a video playing on a staffer’s phone. “Don’t let her see that.” he attempted to whisper. He had hoped Reagan would call it a day after the event, but no such luck. He didn’t want to see his boss blow up on himself or anyone else. Technology was the bespectacled man’s strong suit, not subtlety, cringing when he heard his boss' voice.

“Don’t let her see what?” Reagan asked, his anxious curiosity only briefly halted by the shudder of revulsion that swept through his body at the realization he was the “her”, as he only then realized that it no longer seemed weird, and that in and of itself was quite weird. ‘Don’t normalize it.’ Reagan mentally repeated to himself, wishing he could end the feminine BS sooner rather than later.

“Go ahead and tell her, Ryan.” Eva instructed, as she walked in behind her anguished boss, her eyes glued to her phone, clearly distressed by what they saw.

Ryan pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose, and cleared his throat before proceeding. “Uh, yes, well… to put it bluntly… that press conference didn’t go over well with either side of the aisle.”

“I’m sorry…what? Why the fuck didn’t the libs like it?”

Biting the bullet Ryan **** himself to answer the question. It wasn’t his job to make his boss happy, it was his job to collect data, and analyze it. Reagan being happy would have just made it a lot easier.

“A lot of people online are saying you’ve set women back ten years just by inviting a magazine like Southern Living to a press conference in the first place.”

“...and what about the right?” Pausing before he spoke, Reagan ran his tongue along the back of his teeth before pressing it into his cheek. He wasn’t expecting any praise from those he actually considered his own.

“The usual rhetoric…it’s just…well, this time…there’s a meme…”

‘A meme?’ Reagan shook his head slightly, rolling his blue eyes at the comment. “How bad can it be?”

Eva, who by this point was looking over Ryan’s shoulder, sighed, and spun the monitor around to face her old friend. Someone had combed through each and every frame of Reagan’s quiet rage at the podium and found the absolute ideal frame to make him seem especially insane. His eyes were as wide as saucers, his nostrils were flaring, and the strained grin plastered across his face wouldn’t have looked out of place on a comic book villain. The caption read, “I’m not like other girls. I don’t like clothes, and I’m not a girl.”

“What the hell does that even mean?!” Reagan asked, as he gesticulated in the screen's direction. “There are tons of girls who don’t care about fashion!”

Eva couldn’t help but smirk at that line. Her once notoriously sexist friend had always respected her, but she was the exception to the rule. In general, the former playboy thought women were good for one thing, and it was playing parcheesi. If they weren't trying to attract a suitable man to start a family with, then what were they even doing? Now he’d just stumbled into becoming a feminist without even realizing it, and all it took was for him to look at the issue selfishly. Just then Reagan’s phone began to ring out from his purse, which the intern, Sadie, was dutifully still carrying behind him, waiting to be dismissed.

“Hello.” Reagan answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID, his eyes still glued to the humiliating image.

“Hello, Miss Demir,” Elias greeted, his voice dripping with honey. “I just saw the uhhh… press conference, and it didn’t look like it went great. Are you doing okay?”

Reagan groaned to himself, holding the mouthpiece away from his face, as he ran his fingers through his silky straight hair. He wanted to chastise the man, but Elias was direct with his question, and he wasn’t lying. That was the kind of assertiveness he had to respect in a man, even though doing so was also acknowledging his own failure.

“Yeah, I’m okay. What do you need, Elias?”

They hadn’t actually discussed Elias’ compensation for his role, but he knew it wasn’t money. Eva’s brother had far more than everyone standing in the room with Reagan combined. The distressed politician guessed political access, or a foot in the door for government contracts, but at that moment, he didn’t feel up to discussing the topic. The reminder of the kiss shared with his “new boyfriend” had been enough for him.

“Give your driver a night off, and I’ll pick you up from the office. How does a Michelin starred dinner for two sound?”

‘He wants a date. I put my foot in my mouth tonight and he wants to help by doing his job.’ Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, Reagan rested one hand on his hip as he answered. “Look, Elias, I appreciate the effort, but how about we both take the night off. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is go home, kick back on the couch, and soak my aching feet.”

That’s when Eva snatched the phone right out of her boss’ hand. “Hey, bro!” she squealed through the line. Just like it was easy for Reagan to forget she was a woman, it was just as easy to forget that she could be a little sister from time to time as well. “Your beautiful lady is going to text you in a minute. She needs someone to lick her wounds, and I know you’re just the guy. I’ll send over some info soon. Let me talk to her for a minute, and she’ll get back to you shortly. Stay by your phone.”

While most of the words sounded as sweet as pie, the last was an obvious threat, one Elias knew when he heard it. “Sure thing, sis.” he replied, knowing she meant business.

Pulling the phone from his ear he glared at it in his sibling’s stead. A moment passed and he thought of the driven woman he met because of that sister. If it was for Reagan, he would have suffered his sister’s sternest inquisition as many times as it took.

After hanging up, Eva, not bothering to say a farewell to her brother, looked Reagan sternly in the eyes. She paused only for a heartbeat, taking in, not for the first time, just how much his baby-blues popped with that particular combination of eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner.

“Reah, your boyfriend is just trying to do something nice for you. What would people think if a girl like you didn’t appreciate that?” She took a step closer, whispering, “Remember, we need to keep up appearances.” Looking to the side she took a hold of Reagan’s cast-off black blazer, throwing it over his shoulders, and began to guide him out into the hallway. “Spend time with some of your staff. Make them feel needed while I work a few things out.

Glaring back at the auburn haired beauty, Reagan couldn’t believe her. Nobody ever dared shuffle him out of his own office, the place of sanctity where he met with his inner circle every morning - the place where he felt the most powerful. He wanted to believe she hadn’t always been this pushy, but that thought didn’t withstand even a cursory glance. Eva Bree Arnoult had always been this way, at least to one degree or another. He was the one who had changed, and not for the first time that day, he felt uncomfortable left alone with his own thoughts.

With a sigh, the Senate hopeful turned his attention to a staffer just hanging up his phone, Brian, he thought his name was. Reagan moved closer to the young man, knowing Eva was right about positively reinforcing his staff. It was something he always excelled at, making others feel valued. Reagan was going to let Eva do whatever it was had planned and he would do what he did best - inspire.

Roughly two hours later Reagan was standing out in front of the building, wishing he could shout at the sky, but with the office still in earshot, he managed to keep a lid on it. Between chatting with each member of his team, he kept trying to get Eva’s attention so he could silently scream at her for putting him in such a position.

It slowly dawned on the distracted man that she had given him busy work while he waited on his fake boyfriend to collect him for another date. Meanwhile, the campaign manager would type away on her phone, then again on Reagan's, only handing it back to him when she suddenly began hurrying him towards the front door.

Weeks before, he may very well have stumbled, moving across the carpet at such a breakneck pace, but now he didn’t even notice the terrain. His eyes were glued to the message his best friend had just sent her brother, one that appeared to be from him.

Reagan: Hey there, cutie. Sorry about earlier. I’ve just been so overwhelmed.

Reagan: Eva’s right though. I couldn’t imagine a better way to rid myself of this bad day than to spend the evening in your arms.

Reagan: See you in a few. <3

“What the actual fuck, Eva?!” he squealed in his now default feminine tone. “How dare you put me in a position like that!” The little heart at the end was like a punch in the nose.

“Take a deep breath, and calm down, Reah.” Eva placed her hand on the feminized blonde’s shoulder. “You clearly need a night off, and have you forgotten, we need to be keeping up appearances? The campaign pays your phone bill, and if there’s ever an investigation into your finances, an audit is a real possibility. Not to mention, we’ve just had one of the biggest gaffes of the whole election cycle.” She held his gaze for almost a full second before continuing, “We need to do some damage control, so I decided to give the press something else to talk about. Now, do you still want to yell, or are you ready to act like the woman the world knows you are…and to thank your best girlfriend, AND the world’s best campaign manager for killing three birds with one stone?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood stiff, but Reagan couldn’t find one hole in the redhead’s logic. He could also read between the lines. They were outside now, in public view. He opened his mouth to shout twice more, but neither time did a single word escape his lips. “Okay, fine.” he finally managed to mutter on his last attempt.