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It was a lazy day in Florida, so, well, a typical day in Florida. I was lying on a chaise lounge, and Chris was sitting on my cock. I'd just cum inside her. My chest was covered with cum, as Orlando had pulled out of my mouth and cum on my chest. Amai had pulled out of Chris' mouth and cum on Chris' tits, so that was dripping down too. I noticed that Chris got a focused look.
"Dad, I want to buy another house," she said. Seemed like an odd change of conversation, given my softening cock was still buried inside her, but I was comfortable, so I let her talk.
"I found a nice house right outside Washington, DC," she said. "It's, well, stupid big, but that's kind of our thing. I want to work more closely with Barb. I want to register as a lobbyist and spend as much time in Washington as I can, lobbying for the less fortunate. I found a bunch of houses that were smaller and more affordable, and they would be fine too, but I think you'll like this one. 9 bedrooms. 13 full bathrooms. 7 half baths. They apparently like bathrooms. Oh, and a 30 car underground garage. There's a big guest house too. I thought that could be Barb and Davis' place, as we know she needs to spend a lot of time there, and it would be their private space. I figure Davis will spend his time there if he isn't flying which, let's be honest, isn't THAT much. They can take the Mustang and keep it there. It's less than 10 miles from Reagan. They're asking $62M, but I'll bet I could get it for less."
I let her run, even though I was already in. She's not stupid. She knew my smile.
"I can stop now, can't I?," said Chris. "You're already in, aren't you." Well, they can read me. No, wait, not my mind. Can she?
I just nodded, and she grabbed her phone off the table next to the chaise lounge. She called Jason and told him to position $50M in an escrow account for Sotheby's and gave him the home address for the account. They know that cash in an escrow account is king. Or, well, queen.
Next she called Sotheby's and asked for the listing agent. She used her most formal voice. Yes, I was still inside her and yes, we were dripping with cum.
"Yes, this is Chris Hayden, with the Hayden Foundation. I'm interested in acquiring The Falls," she said. "Yes, yes. That's it. I've positioned an escrow account with our offer. We'd like possession today. No, no need for a tour. That's our offer. You have my number on callerid. Call me back within the hour with their acceptance. No, no negotiation. Too many properties available. You know how hard this will be to sell. I already saw the article that mentioned foreign interests. Good luck with that. I'll expect your call." With that, she hung up. Masterful.
I timed it. Four minutes. Sold. She'd undercut their offer by $12M and they'd caved. In four minutes.
Author's note: The Falls is real. Search for it for sale in Virginia.
"OK, we have an appointment at 3 to take possession. You want to come? I kind of need you or Mom to sign. Embarrassing," said Chris. That made me laugh.
"No you don't," I said. "We worked it out with Jason and our lawyers. We buy big things into a trust. There is a loophole that let's officers sign, regardless of age. We're big on loopholes. It specifically includes homes. We actually had cards laminated." With that, we got up and rinsed off in the pool shower. OK, there was some kissing and groping too, but dammit, those puffies.
We went in to my office and I went to my desk and handed them to her, and told her to give the others to her siblings. "You're OK up to $100M. Over that, you have to ask." Yeah, well, they were responsible.
"I think I'll go alone then, just to fuck with him," she said. "Why doesn't the family come up tonight with Davis and Barb? We can show them their place."
Deal. I guess we should put clothes on now. Our life is fascinating. We were going to come up in one of our other jets. Sure.
I'll turn it over to Chris now.
That was fun buying a house over the phone. He's going to shit when I arrive. I told him to meet me at the FBO and I'd be flying in. I told him the tail numbers of the Mustang. Dad also suggested we needed vehicles at the house, so he and I looked over the inventory at the closest Mercedes, Audi, and BMW dealers. We picked four cars from the Mercedes dealer. A Mercedes-Maybach S650, a Mercedes-AMG S65, another E63S wagon, and another GLS63 SUV. From the Audi dealer a Q7 SUV and an R8 Spyder. Yeah, that one might not make sense. From BMW, an X5M SUV and an M6 convertible. I guess Dad wanted to make a dent in the 30 car garage. Well, friends do use our houses. And Dad's nuts about cars. For fun, he had me buy them, over the phone.
The Mercedes dealer didn't believe me. At all. Finally I wired money to them for all four, at a substantial discount with a message to call me to arrange delivery. They called. Quickly. I arranged for the Maybach to be dropped at the FBO for Mom and Dad, and the others to the house, by 4. Surprise! They agreed. Money talks.
The Audi dealership was just the nicest. Seriously nice. Didn't even blink, accepted a good, but not great offer. Agreed to drop the R8 at the airport and the Q7 at the house.
The BMW dealer salesperson was a dick. Seriously a major dick. It pissed off Dad. So he did what every Dad would do to protect his little girl. He called Jason and within an hour owned the dealership. I got to call the guy back and fire him. He laughed at me until I told him to turn around, as security was there with a box. They were. He was toast. The next salesperson was surprisingly nice. As it turned out, the dealership really was a good one and this guy was an aberration, so Dad made a good purchase. The M6 went to the airport and the X5M to the house. By then I needed to leave, so I dressed as any senior business leader would. I wore shorts and a tight tank top. Fuck'em. I know my puffies rock. I do wonder if they'll ever grow, but hey, if they don't, they're still fucking spectacular.
I flew up to Reagan and pulled up to the FBO. It was fun flying solo. I know I could whenever I want, but don't often. My family is too much fun. I dropped the stairs and he was waiting. Let's face it, he'd made millions today. I introduced myself, and it confused him that my name was Chris. I could see he was waiting for someone else to get off, so I turned and closed and locked the stairs. He was wildly confused at this point.
"Is there a problem?," I said, not willing to let him off the hook. This was too much fun. He got serious props though. He didn't say a word, just escorted me over to his SUV, a giant Cadillac Escalade. I suspect he just thought I looked young, but was really an adult. Sure. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was 11 so I was supposed to ride in the back. I sucked it up and rode next to him. All the dealers had delivered early, so there was a row of cars, with the Maybach at one end and the R8 at the other. He commented on how they were all nice cars and almost looked new. I didn't say anything. Wait until he got to the house.
We drove for a bit, but it really wasn't that far, at least at 3 in the afternoon. We pulled in and holy fuck it was huge. There was a row of nice cars in the driveway, and that confused him. I just casually mentioned they were ours and they'd been delivered. That's when I mentioned the row of cars at the airport was too. Not even a blink. I was getting to like this guy. We had just paid $50M for a house, over the phone, so he had to know there was some serious change. He was probably late 30s and pretty hot. Looked good in that suit. His name was Mark. I'd say a solid 6', maybe 175. Looked like he worked out. Tall, dark, and handsome. Hmm. Maybe I'd fuck him.
Back to the house. Yeah, I knew it was 48,000 square feet, but still. The master bedroom was a fucking wing. The underground garage was too cool and it was climate controlled, so I'm sure Dad would use it. He'd already talked to Jackson about a caretaker couple that, well, fit in, shall we say. The guest house was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and was stunning. Both houses came furnished, but I know Mom and Dad. Most would be gone the first week. It was tasteless and overdone. Probably worth a fortune, so some charity would benefit. We walked back in the main house, and I walked back to the bedroom that I had chosen as mine. He followed me in. I turned towards him.
"So, this one is going to be my room," I said. "Want to help me christen it?" He clearly didn't know what I meant, so I pulled off my tank top, dropped it to the floor and pushed off my shorts. Naked. He liked it, I could tell. His little friend hopped right up to tell me too. I'm sure he assumed I shaved, you know, down there. I wasn't going to tell him I wasn't old enough to grow anything yet. I was wet though, and it was starting to run down my leg. I am pretty sure he noticed that. He didn't take his eyes off me, but got undressed while staring. He got more brownie points for being very oral, and good at it. He took me over several times before mounting me with a big, thick 8 inch uncut cock. He had skills with it too, and I was riding a wave when he pulled out and came all over my puffies. Again, extra credit, as he licked it all up, and licked back down and got me off again. I returned the favor and he recovered well and we did it again, doggy style. This time I told him to cum in me, as I wanted him to eat out the cream pie. He gladly aco me.
We were lying next to each other on the bed, recovering.
"That was wonderful. I haven't fucked an 11 year old since I was 13," he said. "I must do it more often." Oh. Busted. I rolled onto my side and looked at him.
"You knew? You knew the whole time?," I said.
"Are you kidding? I just sold you a $50M house, which you stole by the way. The cash in escrow was brilliant. Of course I know who you are. You're fucking Chris Hayden, the 11 year old that runs the largest private charity in the United States. Your sister flies airliners. Your other sister won the Indy 500. You flew yourself here in a jet. I wasn't doubting you at the plane, I just figured others probably rode along. I knew you flew it. Hell, I saw you through the windshield when you taxied up. I read SI. I read Time," he said. "Surely you don't think you still have anonymity. You won an Oscar! I knew who you were, but you're my client, so I treated you with respect, although you should have ridden in the back seat." We both laughed at that.
"I really tried to control myself when you stripped. I almost did," he said. "Then I saw you were so wet it was running down your leg. I lost it. I shouldn't have."
"Oh stop it," I said. "You're a great fuck and so am I. Just remember my family values discretion. But I doubt you'd go brag about fucking an 11 year old, would you?"
He laughed. "No, that wouldn't end well," he said. "One more round?" Oh yes. I showed him my girl on top skills.
Finally we got dressed, as I mentioned my family would be arriving within a few minutes. That got him dressed fast, which made me laugh.
"You better get dressed fast, or the entire family will want a piece of you," I laughed. You could see him running through the family in his head. Did he start with Dad and work his way down or Leslie and work his way up?
"Did you start with Dad and work your way down, or Leslie and work your way up?," I asked. He burst out laughing.
"Your Dad, but I got stuck on the mental image of your Mom for a minute," he said. "I would truly like to fuck her."
"OK," I said. "But you're used up for the day. You'll have to come back to cum." That got a big smile. Yeah, it would. I guess she is technically a 20 year old MILF.
We heard cars pull in and met them at the front door. Morgan pulled me to the side and told me my shirt was on inside-out. Oh well. I think she wanted a piece of Mark right then. I know Orlando did. I looked over and noticed Mark was hard again. Damn.
"Hey, Mom and Dad," I said. "You should let Mark give you a tour of the Master bedroom. It's quite nice. He gave me a nice tour of my bedroom." They both lit up with smiles, and each took one of his hands. He led them off. We explored the house for a bit. Well, 45 minutes or so. Right at the forty-five minute mark the doorbell rang. It was Chinese delivery. Amai was clearly expecting it.
"Well, I knew we'd be hungry," she said. Amai is amazing. When Mom, Dad, and Mark finally came out, we were sitting at the giant dining room table that seated 20. It was actually OK, so would likely stay.
"Well, this table is OK," said Mom. "But damn near everything else goes." She asked Mark about a local charity that would take it, and he suggested that we should get Sotheby's or Christie's involved and auction it. He said most of it was valuable, and he bet we'd clear $10M in an auction. Awesome. More for Hayden. And that means the house was only $40M. I did steal it.
"This place is amazing," said Barb. "I'm still not quite used to all of this. Did I hear correctly that Chris bought it, then flew up by herself to close the deal?"
"Yes," I said. "It was fun. Then I had a lot of fun, closing the deal." All eyes swiveled to Mark. He just sat there with a stupid grin.
"The guest house is gorgeous. Bob told me on the way up that your plan was for that to be for Davis and me? I do need to spend a ton of time up here working with Congress and various agencies," said Barb. "But I thought I'd be staying at a Holiday Inn." We all laughed at that.
"Bob also said you want to register as a lobbyist too and get involved?," said Barb. Her tone was very neutral, so I wasn't sure if she was on board yet.
"Yes, that's my plan. Technically I am the director of both the charity and the PAC," I said. "I want to use that leverage. I want to pass the charity on, as I am concerned about the conflict. I'm hoping Mom will take it on. Are you OK with me working with you?"
"Are you kidding?," said Barb. "It's truly wonderful. Your voice is powerful. Truly powerful. Your story resonates. Your fame, at 11, will help. And you can fly the plane." We all broke up at that. It is true.
"I'm actually testifying before Congress tomorrow, much to the chagrin of those in power. They're not used to a bipartisan PAC with the power we wield. You MUST come. You must speak," said Barb.
Wow. Testify before Congress. Well, I did sign up for this.
"OK," I said, even though I was scared. "But we need to christen the house. Every room. All of us. But if you could indulge me for a minute, I was to show you something."
"I made an ad for the PAC, with Orlando's help," I said. "Can I show it to you all?" We all trooped into the living room. I had it on my phone, and could cast it to the TV. Mark had stuck around, which was fine. We'd made sure he felt welcome to stay. I was embarrassed to play it, but if I was in, I was all in. It started with me walking through a clearly disadvantaged neighborhood. There were kids playing in the street, and some playing in an empty lot, clearly full of trash and used condoms. In the background, you could see basketball court, clearly in disrepair, with no nets, but a game in progress. The players were all black or brown.
"My name is Chris Hayden. I need your help. We need your help. I am walking through a neighborhood. It could be anywhere. Syria. Afghanistan. So many spots in the world in turmoil. So many children living in poverty, in bombed out buildings." The camera panned to show buildings with boarded up windows, some without glass, some with kids hanging out. One building was just rubble. There were pieces of the building in the street. There was a car that had been burned.
"But this isn't some land far away that is a war zone. This is downtown Tampa. Florida. These are OUR kids, living like this. More than 30% of all kids in the United States live below the poverty line. 20 million kids in the US are not food safe. That means on any given day, they may not have any food. Not one meal. The summers are the hardest. They likely get free lunch during the school year, and for many that is their only meal. In the summer, nothing. Their parents work. 70% of kids who are hungry live with parents who both work. They are left to the streets. Streets like this. Many are devastated by illness, and a lack of insurance. Many are just caught in the spiral that is being poor in our country. Can I personally fix it all? No. I wish I could. But I am going to try to change the way this country looks at people like this. We have fallen off track. As a country, we used to care about each other. Now we only care about ourselves. Well not me. I care. Do you?"
Author's note: I strive for accuracy in my writing. I'm sad to say the statistics in the prior paragraph are real. Much of this section is not, but you get my point.
I fade out and a short slide show begins. It is photos of slums. Each has a title with the city. New York. Los Angelas. Louisville. Oakland. Dallas. Atlanta. Detroit. Baltimore. Birmingham. Denver. Chicago. Miami. Charlotte. Little Rock. Houston.
Each showing devastation. Each with children in the shot. Black. Brown. White. Asian. Kids of all colors. It is stupifying. Then it fades to black with the two web addresses of the Hayden Foundation and the Hayden PAC. Yes, that's allowed.
Fuck. It is powerful. It is scary. It is sad. I didn't like making it. I don't like that it is true. I really don't like that it is true.
"Orlando shot that with one of the Canon 50Ds. It's handheld, with just the built-in mic. We could do it with better production values, but I think it works. What do you think?, I said.
Everyone was crying. I guess they thought it as OK.
"Can I show the other one?," asked Orlando. Fuck. I don't want to see it again. I never want to see it again.
"Sure. It's hard to watch. I hate watching it," I said.
The scene is a hospital waiting room. It is in a tent. An actual tent. There are men, women, and children, and they're all clearly sick or hurt. There are bandages on many of them. There is clearly blood on the ground. It is horrific. I just narrate this one.
"This is horrible, isn't it? These people are sick. These people are dying. They're in a tent, and there are not enough doctors and nurses to help them. There is not enough medicine. Many will be turned away, because they cannot afford treatment. Some of those will go home to die."
The scene fades and we're standing outside a door of a room full of hospital beds. There must be forty of them, all with someone in them. They're clearly wasting away.
"This is the cancer ward. There is no medicine available for these patients. There is no pallative care. There is no hospice. They are weeks, or days, or hours, from dying. Many have treatable cancers, but the chemotherapy or radiation treatment is not available to them. They'll die here. Soon. They'll leave families. They'll leave children, many of them young children. They could have been saved, if medicine and treatment was available."
"It is sad to see, and I cried after I left. People in tents. People dying in cancer wards. Many dying that could have been treated. Where is this you ask? What war zone is this? What third world country is this?"
The scene fades to show Bellvue Hospital. In New York City. You see the tent in the parking lot.
"Those windows, in the corner of the third floor, are the cancer ward. Those people look out on New York as they're dying. This is a third world country, but the problem isn't that we couldn't provide doctors or medicine. We choose not to. The US is the only first world country that does not have universal health care. People die every day from treatable diseases. They can't afford their insulin, which 20 years ago was a $21 a bottle. The same insulin is over $300 now. For a two week supply. They can't afford it, so they die. This just can't be right. It is not right. Medical care IS a right. Help us. All of these hospitals have indigent cancer wards. Could it be your family member?"
The scene fades to pictures of hospitals in cities around the US. It just keeps going on. Big cities. Small cities. All over the country. Dozens of them. Finally one more voice over.
"This isn't all of them. This was the first fifty we found. There are more." Then it fades to black, and the address to donate.
"We had an attorney that specializes in non-profits and PACs do the research. We're OK if the charity funds these as PSAs. The PAC can conserve its money to donate to the right candidates," I said. "Barb and I are testifying tomorrow, but have meetings setup with key members of Congress for the next few days. We'll come back to Florida then. You can stay or go. I'll stay in her house if you're not here. She says that's OK." Barb just smiled.
"These are fucking powerful," said Barb. We were all startled by the profanity.
"Yes, I said fucking powerful," said Barb. "Because they are. I had a prepared opening statement for tomorrow, but it is in the trash. We're playing these two videos as our opening statement."
"OK, I'm up for it. But will somebody please fuck me now?," I said.
Oh they did.
Author's note: Before you dismiss this topic in my stories, I thought I would add that a study published in 2009 in the Harvard Business Review showed that 45,000 deaths a year in the US were due to lack of health insurance. Yeah, fun story series, but some truth seeps through.
The next morning came too fast, but not for THAT reason. I was nervous. REALLY nervous. Kind of silly, given I'd acted in a movie, flew planes, and raced boats, but this was fucking Congress, and given that the policies I support, with my passion, are not favored by the party in power, I was going against an audience that didn't want to do a single thing I did. Literally nothing. I had lots of causes, but these two were my passions. They will make it partisan and spin me as a "Bernie Democrat" but I'm just a kid that cares. That's going to be my schtick. It's my defense. I'm a kid that cares. My priorities are universal healthcare and food for the poor. That's all we would discuss today, as you just can't have a big a list to start. They're also the hardest to argue against, if you're an actual human. Many of the people that would be grilling me today likely are not actual humans. We'll start with the videos, which are very focused.
I know, my journal has gone WAY off track from our sexual escapades, but it is an outlet for me. Feel free to skip this part and find a spot where somebody is fucking somebody while somebody else blows somebody. We'll get back to that. Let's face it, I'll need an outlet this afternoon, so somebody is licking and fucking me for sure.
The chairman of the committee wanted it to be a closed meeting. I wanted it open, with cameras. I used the most powerful tool in my kitbag to win this argument. Money. He is in a tough race for reelection, and I was quite calm when I told him if there were no cameras, the Hayden PAC would donate $100M to his opponent, publicly, this afternoon. I even told him that he better keep his attack dogs under control and take the topic seriously, or ever single person on the committee that politicized healthcare and starving kids would find themselves massively outgunned. I may be 11, but I know how Washington works, and my stick was billions and the stick was growing. He finally agreed to a pool camera. That was fine with me. One or a hundred, it would get out. I insisted the media outlet chosen was my choice. He argued. I turned to Barb.
"Send $10M to his opponent," I said. "He's not getting it." Barb pulled out her phone, typed in some information, and said one word: "Done."
Yep, he looked like a cattle prod just went up his ass.
"Are we more clear now?," I said. "You do understand the power of money, don't you? After all, you make $115K a year and you're wearing a $2000 suit." I don't know suits from potato sacks, so it was a guess, but it hit home. I picked the BBC. Neutral.
Finally we went in. I was allowed 6 seats behind me. Mom, Dad, by siblings, and Davis. You knew that. Every time the camera hit me, they would be in the shot. Just kids helping kids, dammit. The BBC feed was going out live, and CNN was playing it real-time. No pressure. No fucking pressure. They asked if we had an opening statement, and they'd setup several big TVs in the room. We played both videos, and yes, CNN played them live. Amai told me later that she'd kept track, and within 30 minutes, we had over $200M in donations, about evenly split between the foundation and the PAC. By the next day, it was $400M. Our message resonated.
Once they were done, it was the Chairman's turn. Good luck, asshole, they're powerful videos. Try to make your opening statement partisan now.
"Miss Hayden, there is no doubt that your videos are powerful and the message is a strong one. However, we're the keepers of the nation's coffers. We have to be careful about how we spend money. You must know we can't just spend money on every program. What would you suggest we do differently?," he said. Seriously? You lobbed me a softball. You're a fucking idiot.
"Sir, I sincerely appreciate your fiscal responsibilities and your passion for ensuring the best use of money. However, you asked me what I would do, so I'll some specific examples," I said. I rattled off a list of 7 programs that were clearly pork. Totally and completely fucking useless programs. Even a 5 year old would see that.
"These are just examples, sir, that total almost a billion dollars a year," I said. "These are also programs from your district. Programs that you introduced. Programs that are nothing more than pork for the benefit of your donors. I have with me information that correlates each program to a specific donation to your campaign. I'd be happy to read those into the record, if you'd like." He looked shell shocked as he should.
"I am also prepared with a list of programs from each district represented by members of this committee. While there is clearly a partisan difference in pork, it isn't as great as you might expect. Healthcare and starving children are not partisan issues. They are issues for us all to solve. I am asking you to sharpen those fiscally responsible pens and eliminate the pork, and focus. Just focus. You, and all your colleauges, spend so much time figuring out how to tap the treasury for personal gain, that you've lost sight of your actual job -- to represent all the people," I said. "I think that answers your first question. Does anyone else have a question?"
No one spoke. I let the silence build and counted "one Mississippi, two Mississippi" for a full minute. CNN played the silence live. OK, they had their chance.
"Well, since no one seems to have any more questions, and we have some time left, I'll keep going," I said. "Every single reputable study shows that universal healthcare saves money. Period. Every single reputable study shows that providing food for children, and their parents saves money. Now, as a nation, we have a big question to answer. Do we care about people or profits? Is the government by the people and for the people or by the corporations and for the corporations? Money has corrupted politics. Citizens United was the beginning of the downfall. So far, the money that focuses on profit is winning, which makes absolute and complete sense. But guess what, I'm 11 years old, and I lead the largest, best funded PAC in the United States, and I'm about the people. I'm willing to bet that those that took the time to watch today are for the people too. My big stick in this fight is money. And my stick is growing. This committee has 7 members. Four of you need to go and you know who you are. You've lined your pockets for longer than I have been alive, and it is time for fresh blood. People that will represent the people. I promise you, you're done. Your colleagues that are on the profit side of profit vs. people are done. Some will be Republicans, some will be Democrats. I don't care. I am not partisan. I am for the people."
"One last thing. The last tax cut was fucking stupid," I said. Oops. Turns out they didn't even have a delay, so that went out live.
"My family is rich. We are blessed and we know it. We live a good life. But our tax rate is ludicrously low. It's unfair. So we are committed to a 50% rate, for our family," I said. "Since the government doesn't apparently want that money, we'll take the difference between what we pay and 50% and donate it. Half to the Hayden Foundation and have to the Hayden PAC. We put OUR money where MY mouth is. Do you?"
I finally took a breath and he was finally smart enough to pound his silly gavel to stop me.
"This is not productive," the chairman declared. Well, not for him. "This meeting is adjourned."
Awesome. I just got 20 minutes of live TV to evicerate him and he was too stupid to form a legitimate rebuttal. He was toast. From the look in his eye, he knew it.
We knew there would be cameras and media everywhere, but we left without comment. Only because we knew that on the steps of the Capitol, Anderson Cooper was waiting with a camera crew. Hey, if I am getting interviewed, it might as well be Anderson Cooper. I felt a little bad, because Barb hadn't gotten to speak. I said that to her as we walked out.
"I don't care if I ever speak," she said. "Your voice is strong. You have the microphone. Use it. Keep using it. I'm happy to be the behind the scenes manipulator. You are our voice."
Well, no pressure there.
We found Anderson and did the introductions. He asked a simple question and let me run. "What are you going to do to change our country?"
"I'm 11 years old. I can't do this alone. Yes, I have resources that are beyond the imagination, but this isn't a one person, or a two person crusade. Barb and I can't do it alone, even with money. Our country has been taken over by politicians that are not for us. That's it. That's the root problem. We know the programs that we need. There is plenty of research that shows what needs to be done. It is so simple. But to get that done, every single person in this country that is eligible to vote has to actually vote. They have to actually understand the issues. They have to stop voting against their own interests because some blowhard spouted code words that made them feel good, but didn't have facts. Politicans that have actual facts are insulted. Politicians that lie, and say what voters want to hear, win. That reflects on all of us. Stop listening to lies. Listen to legitimate news sources. NPR, the BBC, and yes, CNN. When you make a mistake you correct it. You sure as hell don't lie.
So my simple request is VOTE. We have our causes on which we will focus, but we will support get out the vote campaigns too. And mark my words. Four out of seven. Four of the committee members in that meeting will not be back. During the meeting, we donated $25M to each of their opponents. It is not a vendetta on my part. It is a focused effort to weed out those that are not FOR US. We're done with that in politics. We are not partisan. We will donate to any candidate that is looking out for the best interests of their constituents. Yes, I am 11, but I am a strong woman and I will wield my stick to ensure our country gets back on track."
A crowd had formed listening to what I was saying. When I stopped, they burst into a spontaneous applause. When CNN ran the piece, they ended it with a pan of the crowd, clapping. Damn.
That was it. One question. I couldn't go anywhere for the next few days without seeing a TV playing either that interview or my testimony. You know what came into my head on the ride back to the house? The pithy thought I had?
No more tank top games. We just couldn't anymore. Damn.
We did have to be a LOT more careful. We couldn't have a scandal. The family was going to have to talk.
When we got back to the new house, I called a family meeting. I included Davis and Barb, as they needed to hear it too.
"OK everyone, I called this meeting, so I am going to kick it off," I said. "I just put a HUGE target on our family's back. The opposition will be brutal. They will be digging into our past and there is a risk they will find a weak link. I should have thought this through, but the excitement of testifying got the better of me. I've already taken measures to take all of our systems off line, and all cameras are shut down. We need new rules. For example, no nudity outdoors or near a window. EVER. Assume there is someone with a camera standing next to you. Drones are small and cheap. They WILL be flying around our houses. I've already asked Blake to order jammers, so be careful, as when they fly into the jam zone, the drones will literally fall from the sky. Also, our play is cut WAY back. Family members only. No friends, at least for a while. We can't risk it for us, or for them. My biggest fear is a previous employee or friend that had a cellphone camera. In hindsight, we should have collected them. Amai is working with Jackson to find a source that we can trust to do opposition research too. We may have to fight fire with fire. Our cause is great, or risk is too. We have been incredibly naive and I pray it doesn't cost us. Any thoughts?"
Everyone agreed, and I saw fear. I'm 11. I will survive. The fear was in Mom, Dad, everyone that was an adult. They might not. I'm terrified, but we have to deal with it.
We were basically on lock down. We had to be. I missed our fun, but our cause was just. Hopefully it wouldn't be forever. Even our family play fell off. We were worried. Mom and Dad stopped everything. We understood. Even us kids were not as quick. I fucked up. I admit it. It's all on me.
The party in Austin was this weekend, so we were in a mad dash for that. It was always going to be a 'boring' party - a fund raiser, so this didn't affect that, but we did tell Aldo and his family that we were out of the game, at least until things settled down, if they ever did. That sucked. Over to Mom this time.
The enormity of our situation hit home hard. What had done is universally viewed as wrong. I don't agree. Bob doesn't agree. None of that matters. We were at risk. So, we were careful, looking forward, but a lot of people knew, and a lot of people were susceptible to, well, purchase. So we would stay low, in that way, but not be beaten. I didn't sleep well and Bob didn't either. Even our sex life suffered and we're married. For now, our focus was this weekend. We'd planned on a different party the day before, with Aldo and his family, but that wasn't going to happen now. We did invite them to dinner. In clothes. What fun is that? I keep thinking about the tanktop game. What if someone had videoed us? Fuck.
We would know soon. They were after us for sure. We'd already seen it. We had a growing collection of drones that had fallen from the sky. We had put security in boats patrolling our property and they'd repeatedly run off people with cameras. Hopefully just fans, but who knows. Maybe fans had caught us in pictures or, God forbid, a video. Maybe we're paranoid, but we're pretty sure we are regularly followed. What we have going for us is that the kids are pretty universally loved. What we have going against us is Chris went after the elite. Hard. Fuck, fuck, fuck. We should have just stayed under the damn radar.
Too late now.
The person I feel the most sorry for is Orlando. Morgan, Leslie, and Chris can sleep in each other's rooms all they want. Orlando can't. He'll be able to eventually, at least when no one is around, but I can tell how lost he feels.
But, we put it aside, and live our new life, and see what happens. I do think we'll get back to family fun. We need it. I know that sounds weird, but we do. So, for now, we're smiling and moving forward.
Today we leave for Austin. There is a damper on our visit, but we're all really trying. We'll take the big plane, as everyone is going. We have planes coming in from everywhere. We invited every single person on our team. London, Paris, Venice, Napa, San Francisco. Some are so new we haven't even introduced them yet, but they've all gotten the new rules. They get it. We didn't try to go fetch anyone ourselves, just flew most of them first class. I don't think Leslie or Chris had their heart in it. I hope they will soon. Chris has a huge role on Saturday. She is effectively the host. She'll manage.
We got to Austin about noon on Thursday. I think our doldrums had broken a little, as we were all pretty happy. Some of that is because we were 10 days out from the testimony and nothing had happened. The longer that is true the better. Honestly, I thought the first thing that would happen would be blackmail. Not even that. The guy I worried about most was Justin, the kid that had to throw his cocaine overboard, so I had our security team find out where we was. Turns out, he wouldn't be a problem. He was right. They did kill him. I suppose I should mourn him, but he dug his own grave and that's not a metaphor.
The logistics of the next few days were simply stunning. Jackson and Sofia had coordinated everything, down to the flights of key people. Given 2,000 people were invited, that alone had required a team. Every one of our available rooms was taken by a guest. Of course, the kids all had their own room on the 4th floor. We had Steven and Harrison and their spouses take the remaining two rooms on that floor. The six cottages each had four people in them - families. The four apartments had groups of friends - after all they're four bedrooms, so that was another 30 or so. The remaining six bedrooms were full, which was another dozen. Finally the pool house was packed and had another 12. All in, 85 people were staying with us, but most of them were our extended family. There were some others. You know. Steven. Harrison. Zuckerberg. Gates. Buffet. Hanks. Streep. You get the idea. It was a little hilarious wandering around and seeing Tom Hanks chatting with Lebron James or Meryl Streep chatting up Barack Obama. We were holding an upscale Burning Man, but at our house.
That was the easiest part. Getting 2,000 people to the property was the challenge. Most were not local, so they were flying in. The local FBO was jammed with planes. The guests were spread out in almost every available high-end hotel. Jackson had worked with the hotels and made it their problem to arrange transportation, which was good. It's not like we had room for 1,000 cars. Our party was apparently the hottest ticket around. We had done it as a fund raiser for Hayden, both the foundation and the PAC. That made it interesting. It wasn't purely Democrats. In fact, every living past President attended, even Bush Sr., although he was clearly frail. The chemistry between GW Bush and Michelle was electric. They were truly friends. Our current President wasn't invited. Oh he tweeted about it. Apparently Chris is the new Queen of liberal snowflakes. I am sure she accepts the crown proudly. Fuck him.
We even had a stage setup and a number of performers had actually contacted us about performing. Let's face it, they wanted an invite too. At one point I saw Lorde with Taylor Swift. I saw Camila Cabello chatting with Ed Sheeran, with Warren Buffett. Pink chatting with Charlie Puth with Tom Hanks. Halsey chatting with Steven Tyler and both George Bushes. There must have been 200 famous musicans. Another 150 famous actors. Business tycoons. You name it.
Just then Orlando walked up, clearly excited, although that wasn't quite the emotion. I guess he'll tell me.
"I have an idea, and it is a little out there," said Orlando. "But it would get us ahead of things and at least lower the risk. I think that Leslie and I should casually mention to a few people that our family are nudists. Work it into the conversation with some people we suspect have loose lips. Only if we can make it naturally fit. It is sure to get back to the media, and I'll bet they ask us. The kids should reply something simple like 'You're asking a kid?', but eventually you or Dad will get asked. You own up to it, but make sure you say we spend a lot of time in Europe, where they don't have the same hangups that Americans do and talk about how nudity is natural and isn't about sex. That way if a nude shot shows up, we've already gotten in front of it. Can't fix everything, but it takes the edge off."
Wow, that was an intriguing idea. I liked it. I couldn't make the decision though, so I told Orlando to find Bob and the other kids and meet in the kitchen in 10. Once we all got there, we went up to Bob's office. No one would find us there. I had Orlando repeat what he said. There was total consensus. They agreed it should be Orlando and Leslie. Couldn't be Chris, as her role was too pivotal. Sure as hell couldn't be Bob and me. Morgan was borderline, at 16. So, Orlando and Leslie. We talked about who to tell and came up with a list of a dozen or so. They'd drop it casually and make sure they both didn't say it to the same person. Once they'd each told two, they'd stop and give it some time.
It didn't take an hour, and to no one's surprise, the first media rep to ask was from Fox. I wasn't going there, so I just stared at him when he asked the question. He was so clearly imagining me naked that I called him out on it.
"Are you imagining me naked?," I asked. It was hilarious to see a 60-something man blush. I'm guessing they wouldn't use that on tonight's news.
Not 20 minutes later, I got asked the question again, by a pool representative from France. OMG, it couldn't have been better.
"So, we're hearing that your family are nudists," she asked. Even better, a woman reporter.
"Well, I'm not sure that topic is particularly meaningful, but I suppose it is true," I said. "Our family spends a lot of time in Europe, where they don't have the same hangups as Americans. I'm sure you know that. For example, in the communal pool at our Paris apartment, it is fairly rare for children to wear swimsuits, and the adults are pretty casual about it too. Kids see nudity as natural, which it is, and it is only the parents that make it inappropriate. We're not going to strip down during this party, but out on our boat, in the jacuzzi, we likely won't wear suits. No big deal."
"That is true," said the report. "I live in Paris and let's just say I don't have any tan lines." We both laughed and she went on to the next question. I don't think that could have gone better, particularly the comment she made about her tan lines. Hell, in a different situation, I would have seduced her.
We did watch the report later that night and it was a nice piece. She focused on our charity work, our adopting the four kids, and casually inserted the clip about our being part-time nudists. She positioned it as our being part-time Europeans. It couldn't have been better. Apparently it went up on the web quickly, as I'll bet two dozen people complimented me on the piece that afternoon, and 100% of them were imagining me naked. I was OK with that. It really did feel like it took a little bit of the pressure off. The kids told me later that at least a dozen people had brought it up with them, from kids to adults, and yes, all of them were imagining them naked too. That same Fox reporter made the rounds, but I'd told them to expect it. Every single family member responded with the same thing. He blushed every time. Chris actually asked him if he was a pedophile. That was awesome, as CNN caught it on tape and played it. You see a 60-something Fox reporter ask an 11 year old girl if she was a nudist. She responds with the comment about him imagining her naked. Just as the reporter turns bright red, she hits him with the pedophile comment. I'm not sure we'll see him on Fox anymore. It wouldn't completely protect us, but it clearly positioned anything Fox did as retaliatory. I think they'd stay away. Oh, some of the right-wing sites and evangelicals spent a day or two on it, but then it stopped being interesting.
About then, the official part of the day was about to start. Amazing, but all of this had happened between breakfast and 10am. We'd make the party an all day affair, from breakfast through fireworks, and people came and went, although it sure appeared we were filled up all day. At 10, Chris was going to speak on the main stage. I'll let her speak now. In fact, I'll pass the pen to Chris.
Orlando's idea was truly brilliant. The video of the Fox news guy turning red when he is clearly imagining me naked is awesome. It helped that I was wearing a tankini at the time. A modest one, but he's dressed in a jacket and tie, and I'm, well, not. It was great fun. It didn't completely protect us, but helped. We still had to be careful. I admit, the four kids did get together last night, and yes, Orlando managed to fuck all three of us. I'd missed that.
So it's 10am. How the fuck did this become my party? Oh yeah, I guess I am the head of the PAC. Fuck. So, off to the stage. Yes, I put on actual clothes. I wasn't doing it in the tankini. I put on a nice, young woman dress. Not flashy, but appropriate. It would stay on long enough for my speech and that's about it. We had HUGE screens beside the stage. Biggest damn things I'd ever seen. We started off by playing the same two videos, and one more we'd made. The family had discussed it and agreed we needed more than just me, so this one was Leslie. Fuck it was powerful. Here it is in her own words.
Anyway. My video was at a homeless shelter for families with kids. It was in downtown Chicago and we got permission to make the video and every single adult in the video signed a release form. That had to be hard for them, but we were a movement, and they knew it. What they didn't know until after they had signed and we were done, was that the head of the shelter had a donation of $25,000 for each family. Yes, we could afford it. We couldn't fix everything, but for those 400 people, we fucking well could.
I'm just the narrator, so it is just a change of voices. We'll make more. We used the same shot we did in the cancer ward. Just an open shot of a giant room, overfilled with people. There are literally cots, in rows, most of them filled with adults. There are kids everywhere, but they're curled up on blankets on the floor next to their parents. They don't even get fucking cots.
"There are over four hundred people in this small room. Over 200 of them are children. Is this a shelter after a hurricane or another major catastrophe? No, it is just a Wednesday. This is a homeless shelter in Chicago. This shelter is for families. I know you can see it, but the cots, and that's all they have, are filled with adults. The kids don't get cots. They get a blanket. They can be warm, or they can have a soft surface. They can't have both. The blankets are too small. Most choose to just lie on the hard floor, because it is cold in here. The shelter can't afford enough heat. This is what we're trying to improve. This is one of the missions of the Hayden Foundation. This isn't a third world country, is it? Well, sadly, for many, it truly is. These are not people that are failures. Of the roughly 200 adults in this room 175 of the 189 adults have jobs. In the 1960s, one adult having a full-time job was enough for the family to live in the suburbs. Today, both adults need multiple jobs just to afford a tiny apartment. You'll notice that a lot of these people are of color, but not all of them, by any stretch. Many of you likely see being homeless as a racial issue. It is not. None of these people deserve to be here. They want to do better for their kids, but the cycle is vicious. Once you're in a shelter, climbing out and returning to even the smallest apartment is almost impossible. It shouldn't be. They shouldn't even be here. Roughly a third are here because a medical situation in their family sent them into bankruptcy. A third. Another quarter are here because their employer cut their hours, so they didn't have to pay benefits anymore. Another quarter lost their jobs when their jobs were sent offshore. Some families fit in more than one category, but none of them deserve this. It sucks. Please help," I said.
With that it faded and went to our signature ending. It showed a shot of similar homeless shelters in 19 other cities. We made damn sure we included cities where the shots were primarily whites. We needed to send that message. Louisville, Birmingham. Yes, we were being manipulative, but it needed to be said. This wasn't a racial issue. It just wasn't.
Once the videos played, you could tell the crowd just didn't know what to do. They knew they couldn't clap. Almost 2,000 people stood there, in silence. Chris let them, for a full minute. The final slide stayed up on the screen the whole time. A shot of the shelter we had visited. So fucking sad.
Back to Chris. Her opening remarks were worth hearing.
"Hi, Chris Hayden, and welcome to the party," I said. Finally they got to clap.
"I'm not up here to make an appeal. That's entirely up to you. The videos were the beginning and ending of that. We do have a few friends here today are running for office, and I'm sure they'd love your support. While there are many that you will recognize, we've invited a lot of other folks running for lower office, many for the first time. For those that wanted to, we provide small lapel pins they could wear. They had their choice of a elephant, a donkey, or a none of the above pin. This is not a partisan crowd. Our passions are certainly not partisan. These are people running for office, and are candidates who we believe can make a difference in the causes we support. Introduce yourself. Get to know them. If you feel it, make a pledge. You'll find iPads all over the property that you can use to donate. Most of you have also downloaded the party app. They're not just for signing up for a waverunner. They're also a place to make a pledge to any candidate you meet."
"That's all I am going to say, but I'd love to talk to any of you today. My family and I haven't even met most of you yet, so let's make that happen," I added. "But before I go, we're going to kick off our one and only fund raiser of the day. A competition if you will. If you look at the app now, you'll see an icon called Contest. I'll give you a minute to bring it up. There are two teams coming up here it compete in karaoke. That app will let you pick the winner and, if they win, you are making a pledge to a charity of your choice. It's the honor system, but please do put in your pledge amount. The app will let you make the actual donation too, if you choose. We're going to see how effective this was at the end. We'll give you 15 minutes, then our contestants will come up. Oh, I guess I should tell you who, but those of you quick on the app already know. The two teams will be singing "You're my best friend", by Queen. It just felt appropriate. Team one is Warren Buffett and Bill Gates. Team two is Michelle Obama and George Bush. How are those for teams? Have fun."
With that, the laughter and buzz was high. The big screens had a running tally of pledges and it was staggering. They were pretty evenly balanced, but by the time we started the competition, Michelle's team was in the lead. Total pledges were over $300M. In the end, virtually every pledge, winner or loser, was actually donated.
"OK, feel free to continue to donate, even after the songs, and even the party. Share the app with friends. $300M is not bad, but not enough for this crowd. Keep it coming kids," I said. "We flipped a coin, and our first contestants are Bill and Warren."
Oh god, they were bad. Really really bad. For two smart guys, they couldn't even keep up with the lyrics and they were so off-key. It was truly horrible and everyone absolutely loved it. They even sang it gazing into each other's eyes. It was truly wonderful.
What shocked the audience was Michelle and George. I expected her to do well, but he had a deep baritone voice and was spectacular. They harmonized and it was incredible. Oh yeah, we were recording it. Both teams had agreed to let us release their version as fund raisers, both audio and video. They'd do well.
The winners were obvious by the ovation they received. The fact that they hugged in the end helped.
"Well, that was fun. We'll leave the karaoke setup, for anyone to try, but we also have some pretty nice equipment up here for you musicians and those of you who wish you were musicians. We have no formal performances scheduled, but we do have a group that has asked if they could kick us off. So please welcome the harmonies of Bruno Mars, Taylor Swift, and Willie Nelson. I have got to hear this."
With that, I left the stage and listened to their song. It was awesome. Then I went and changed back into my tankini and went for a long ride on a waverunner. Screw the rules.
The day was going really really well, until the other shoe dropped. I knew it dropped when the Fox news guy came back up, with his camera.
"So, a video just released of your Dad fucking you in the ass," he said. "Care to comment?" No, asshole, I don't. I just hoped it wasn't real. But I had to say something.
"You just don't stop with your ridiculous accusations do you? It isn't real because it never happened. Are you just making up things you dream about you pervert?," I asked. Best defense is an offense, and yes, it was caught on tape by NPR. He went away and they sure didn't play it. I did text the family to meet me up in Mom's office. We had to watch it. I texted Blake, Alison, Amai, and Juanita too. They were the most at risk. We gathered in Mom's office and she found it quickly and played it on the big TV on the wall.
Suddenly, Alison started laughing. Then Blake did. It was really blurry and low quality, so I didn't understand. None of us did. We all stared at them.
"That's me. With Blake," said Alison. "Yep, he's fucking me in the ass and doing a good job at it. From my hair style, I can also tell you it was at least six months BEFORE you bought the house. I sure hope this is the best they can do. We need to get in front of it. I think Blake and I need to do a quick press conference, right now. On stage."
We all talked about it and agreed. We even worked out a script, although they wouldn't read it. They went to dress appropriately. We met at the stage. Blake was in khakis and a polo, and Alison was in shorts and a polo with a pony tail. She'd taken off all her makeup and intentionally tried to look young. She actually did look a lot like me. We waited until the video stopped and Dad and I went up on stage first.
"Excuse me everyone," said Dad. "We have something very important to say. Most of you probably are not aware, but a video just started its way around the internet. I have to be blunt, and I apologize, but this video is purported to be me, having sex with Chris. It isn't us. It can't be us. It's disgusting that this has been done and not only can we clearly state it isn't us, we have proof. We felt we needed to be blunt about it and get ahead of it. Chris wields incredible power, particularly for someone at her age, and these kind of attacks are going to happen. We ask that you all understand that is what they are. Unfounded attacks. With this, I will pass the mic to two of our dearest friends, who also happen to be the caretakers of our home in Florida. Alison, Blake."
"My name is Alison and this is my husband Blake," said Alison. "The video was taken at the home that they own in Florida, but six months before they bought it, and that is easy to prove. We don't know why someone invaded our privacy, but they did. The video is the two of us. A married couple. At the home in which we lived, by ourselves. Listen to that again. A married couple at their home were videoed without their permission or knowledge," said Alison. "Come here Chris." I walked over and stood next to her. We intentionally dressed similarly and I looked a lot like a smaller version of her.
"Chris and I look a lot alike, and from a great distance, perhaps people will be stupid enough to not tell us apart," said Alison. "But this has to stop. These are the finest people we have ever met. They are doing good. Let them."
"I'd like to add a few words too," said Blake. "You all know the stories of these four children and how Bob and Amy adopted them. What you don't know, because you don't know us, is that Alison and I are products of the system. We met in high school, in an orphanage. Until we met this amazing family, it was just the two of us. How we're part of their family, and we are blessed. This has got to stop."
By now, Morgan, Orlando, and Leslie had joined us on the stage. Morgan was going to finish.
"Hi, my name is Morgan, and I have the honor of calling this amazing couple Mom and Dad," said Morgan. "They truly saved my life, and the lives of my brother Orlando, my sister Leslie, and our newest sister Chris. They have never treated us with anything less that love and respect. They are truly amazing and we are so fortunate they are part of our lives. You see, before our biological parents died, they sexually abused us. I was raped when I was five. So was Leslie. Orlando was 3. Yes, 3. They were horrible people and their deaths saved us. Bob and Amy picked up the pieces and put us back together. We're here today, doing what we can to help others, entirely because of them. They will always have my heart. So I ask you, please join me in a round of applause for your hosts today. My parents. Our parents."
With that, she started clapping and the entire place erupted. Yes that made it on national TV. The entire thing did, ending with the applause. Fucking A. Contributions hit a new one-day high. Double fucking A.
We knew there was still a risk, but it seemed to be winding down. If there was anything real, I have to believe it would have come out. Maybe not, but we sure hope. We are now a careful family.
Public opinion was in our favor. I hope it holds.
The party was great fun. It was on Saturday and we had invited a number of people to spend the night and have a smaller get together. At one point I found myself at a small table with Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, and Warren Buffett. It was truly and utterly odd. They were quizzing me about my thoughts on how to invest the PAC money. They wanted me to walk through candidates I supported at the national level and any that I liked at the state or even local level. I could have spent hours with them and told them that. They laughed and asked me my top 10 at each level. I walked through them all, based on our criteria for support for our causes and their general positions on broader issues. They commented that they were surprised they were not all Democrats. Well, they weren't. In many cases a moderate Republican was more effective, as a Democrat would never be elected. Ever. That thinking was interesting to them, but they agreed. We must have talked for over an hour. Suddenly, Bill looked at Mark and Warren and nodded. It felt like they had something to say, and Bill was the ringleader.
"We're sorry for grilling you so hard," said Bill. "But there is a reason. We all want to be significantly more active, politically, but have been struggling for months. Every PAC with which we have spoken has been partisan. They're Republican or Democrat, and beyond that they have almost no vision, beyond supporting their party. We've all spoken to you individually over the last day, and it was clear you had a vision that aligned with ours. We're particularly interested in your breadth beyond your two key initiatives, as they align well too. We're about helping people and you're literally the only person that has been pragmatic enough to recognize that to get things done you need both parties. The only one. We admit, the fact that you're 11 is a little odd, but you're not normal, and we mean that in a good way. You also have Barb as a partner, and that's a good thing, but it is YOUR vision that interests us."
"Thanks, I guess," I said, and they laughed. "But are you actually headed somewhere? Not trying to be pushy, but it feels like you have more to say." Mark jumped in.
"We do," said Mark. "We want to make a donation to the Hayden PAC. Combined we're ready to donate $10B. With friends, it's probably closer to $15B. To start. Our goal is to spend at least a 1/3 of that in this election. It's a defining election. We do have one request, and it is a doozy." Oh here they go. They want control.
"No, we don't want control," said Warren. "and we're sure that's what you expected. We want two things. One is anonymity. You can't disclose your source, it is not required. The second is we want YOU to find and pick the next Democratic Presidential candidate. We'd like to discuss it with you, but if you find the right candidate, we have more money. What do you think?"
What do I think? These three guys just offered an 11 year old $15B to blow on elections. They're fucking nuts.
"You're fucking nuts," I said, and they all dissolved in laughter.
"Maybe," said Bill. "But it is our money and this is how we want to spend it. We need change in our country. We've seen the power the kids have. Just look at the kids from Parkland. Imagine if they were funded better. Really imagine that."
"OK," I said. "I'm not that stupid. You didn't have to add really." That got another round of laughter.
"You do know I still have to go to middle school, right?," I said. That got thoughtful looks, than more laughter. "If I do all this at 11, what the hell will I do at 12?" Yeah, more laughter.
"Oh God," said Mark. "What have we done." That got a round of smiles from them all.
"This conversation is premature," I said. "When it gets closer to 2020, we'll talk, but I'll want to fund one or more candidates for both parties. Right now, let's focus on this election and cleaning house. You know what we can do with that."
They all looked a little shocked.
"You'll fund both sides," said Warren. "And you want total control." I laughed and nodded.
"Tell me you've never done that in business. Both funded both sides and held total control," I said. "I know damn well you have. Repeatedly." He just smiled an enigmatic smile.
"Deal," said Bill. "You decide on our next President, but focus on the mid-terms first. All by yourself. I cannot believe I just said that, but it is true."
"OK," I said. "I'm in." With that, we broke up, and I got formal handshakes from them all. I checked the account for the PAC later that day and the money had already arrived. With existing donations, we were sitting well north of $25B. With a B, as Dad likes to say. Apparently I was going to single handedly alter the election landscape. Damn.
About dinner time, Morgan came up to me and handed me an iPad. She had the cover article of the New York Times website. It was me, in a tankini, taken yesterday.
"I don't know what you and those three powerhouses were discussing, but it seems like this is the end result," said Morgan.
The title of the article was:
"Is this tween choosing our next President?" The subheading was
"She has $30 billion to spend. Do you?"
Well, the target just grew. That's what happens when your PAC's finances are public. I'd just looked again, and I did have $30B, with a B, to play with. Fuck'em. Yes I was picking the next President. I guess I should tell Mom and Dad. I texted everyone and asked for a 7PM family meeting, including Barb and Davis. Amai was still here so I invited her too. They needed to know. Before they left, I spoke to Michelle and let her down. She would probably still run, but I couldn't support her. My analysis said she couldn't win, in today's political climate. It sucked, because I liked her, but I had to be honest. She took it better than I expected, and it might end up pushing her out of the race.
7PM rolled around and everyone had finally gone home, including our extended family. Only Amai, Davis, and Barb were left. I went up to Mom's office. Everybody was waiting. It was hilarious. We were all in swim suits. First big meeting of our cabal, and I'm in a fucking tankini. Leader of the free world my ass.
"Well, apparently there is some reason that I cannot be the President yet," I said, and got the requisite laughter.
"However, I am in a position to sway the election," I said. I explained the entire conversation I'd had with Mark, Warren, and Bill. My buddies. They were all a bit in shock, just like I was.
"Wait," said Mom. "You've got $30B to spend, with an offer of more, to use money to choose and support a candidate for both the Democratic and Republican nominations, as long as they are candidates that support YOUR agenda. Your personal agenda."
"Yes," I said. "I have complete control. No contingencies. No restrictions. No approvals. Oh, and it crossed $40B about 20 minutes ago. I'll desperately need Barb's help though. Oh, and I think I might need to be homeschooled or do virtual school for a bit. I did tell them that middle school might get in the way. That threw them for a bit. Not just one election though. All of them. They basically said it was an unending well. I'm stacking the local races, where that will help, the state races, and the national races. We'll need an entire research team. Right now."
There was complete silence. I didn't have anything more to say, so I just waited.
Suddenly Mom started laughing. Uncontrollably. Hell, it was fucking hilarious. Before long, we couldn't stop laughing.
"So, the 2016 election was affected by the Russians. The 2018 mid-terms and the 2020 Presidential election are going to be decided by a middle schooler in Florida," said Dad. "I've got that right?"
Morgan handed him her iPad. He read it, then handed it to Mom. It got passed around. Finally the last person saw it.
"Yes, I appear to have gotten that right," said Dad. "Not just an 11 year old. An 11 year old in a tankini. Sure."
With that, we went out to dinner. We didn't talk politics, but had a fabulous time. I love my family.
"I can't," I said. "You have to be 14 to legally work in DC. I am officially a volunteer. I can't take a salary." With that, we both broke up laughing. We had a fun time playing, tubing, skiing, waverunners, and more. Barb and I spent the afternoon in Mom's office. I needed damn office of my own. I talked to Mom about it, and she suggested that in Austin, I just take over a cottage. I called Aldo and told him to convert my favorite into a one bedroom plus office. I liked Austin. DC we had covered. Mom told me to build a guest house/office in Florida, so I called Blake and talked about what I needed.
Barb would be flying back to DC tonight to hire a research team -- a big one -- to focus on all the national, state, and even some local elections. We agreed to start with a dozen. She gave Davis the task to find office space, as close to the house as possible. He countered that we had a 48,000 square foot house, and it made more sense to convert, at least temporarily, some bedrooms. Hard to argue. We left enough bedrooms for the family, and Davis and Barb agreed other guests could just stay with them. It would all be extended family.
She was also going to hire an opposition research team capable of working all levels. They were going to be another dedicated dozen, at least. So, one team for, one team against.