The Prime Minister and Her

Taming the Beast

Cassie didn't bother changing her clothes when she went to Carlton's office at two in the morning. The best she did was throw an "Obama/Biden 2012" hoodie over her "Obama/Biden 2008" shirt. Other than that, she wore her sweatpants. 

When she got there, she tiredly showed her badge and trudged through the halls until she reached Carlton's office. She lazily knocked a few times, before walking in. She didn't entirely focus on the fact that Carlton was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, while sexily wearing his white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black slacks, more than she focused on the coffee machine across the room. 

She made a b-line towards it and poured herself a cup. If this was going to take as long as she thinks it will, she needs as much as she can get. 

"Does anyone around here respect me?" She suddenly heard behind her. She turned around to see Carlton looking down at a news article he must have printed out. Cassie sat next to him on the couch and took it to read it. 

The article was brutal. 

Basically, it was everything that was said about him yesterday, but with a twist...with a knife. Whoever this reporter was, she was at the press conference yesterday and talked about how Carlton lost his cool for a bit, but then got into how she overheard him yelling at his staff. Someone then leaked out about all the people who have quit over the course of the weeks. 

It continued on to his relationship history and how she didn't blame him for going to a strip club. She wrote about all of his girlfriends, each one dumping him for a different reason, but then it went on to his broken engagement. Apparently, the night before they were supposed to get married, she admitted to cheating on him for the past two years. 

"She was pregnant," he told Cassie, once he saw her eyes widen at the paragraph. "She led me to believe it was mine, until that night. Turns out it was some American tourist's who lives in Pittsburg. Supposedly, they're living their now, but I don't know." 

Cassie looked at him with a puzzled expression. Why was he telling her this? It was when she looked down at the tumbler in his hand filled with golden liquid that she understood. He was drunk. 

"I never really loved her anyways," he said, this time with a bit of a slur. "I only asked her cause she said she was pregnant. God, I was so ready to be a father, so excited about it...then she just crushed me. I knew if I stayed then it wouldn't be fair to her or the child. Every time I would look at him, it would have gotten me angry." 

He poured the rest of the drink down his throat and slammed the glass down. He looked back to Cassie and said, "I fucking hate you. I really, really do." She shrugged and told him, "I fucking hate you, too. Feel better?" He shook his head and pointed a stern finger at her. 

"You think you are so bloody superb, don't you? You get to tell the Prime Minister what to do, so you feel so good about yourself. Just because you were the President's assistant, doesn't mean you're qualified to be here."

Cassie didn't feel angered by this, as she knew he was drunk, but  that wasn't going to stop her from making a point. "First of all," she said, "I am the President's assistant. There is no "were" or "was" because I am. Secondly, you're right. I'm not qualified because I don't know jack shit about the British government. There are Lords and wigs and all these terms, when I only know things like Congress and House of Senates. But I'm learning and I'm determined to find out a lot more."

Carlton shrugged at her and said, "Congress and the House of Senates are sort of similar to here. I suppose if you think about it that way, it would make more sense." Was this guy bipolar? One minute he's telling her how much he hates her and the next, he's giving her a history lesson?