Avescope Endurance

He patted her hand. "Very good dear. you will be able to look after me when my marbles start to roll away."
"I want to be more than just another politician's wife."
"Never thought you were the barracuda type, myself,” Danes winked at her. Yes. He knew the women of Washington.
"Speaking of the sharks, Do you know where the parents are?"
"Look for the biggest crowd of yes men and you will find the President." He laughed at his own joke. "Will you be my date and take me there?"
"I would be honoured!"
They walked through the crowd and found her father. Eric drew himself up to his full height and said, "Mr. President, may I present your daughter?"
The knot of people around Jared parted. Ysabeaux looked at her dad, wondering what his reaction to her outfit would be. "Good evening, Dad."
He almost appeared indifferent. "It is about time you joined us."
She was hurt. Maybe she should have come only in her skin. "It was a hair emergency!" She looked at everyone around her father. "It was VERY bad!"
They all laughed. Ryan Magerson, her father's chief of staff especially. "Well now, Mr. President, we couldn't have that, now could we."
"Of course not. So daughter, now that you are here, may I have this dance?" Jared gave her one of his tight smiles, the one which meant, 'now let's
have a little chat.' She couldn't refuse and allowed herself to be lead onto the dance floor. "So what's the deal, Yees?"
"What deal?"
"You know damn well what! Being an hour late, that dress? Why are you being so difficult?" Jared was angry.
"I was late because I had a nap and slept late. It was an accident, Dad. Honestly." And I didn't think that you would notice or care. I was enjoying a nice
liqueur alone in my old room with my old self. But Mr. President doesn't care, now, does he?
"You look like a slut. It doesn't look appropriate for a woman in your position."
"What position? And besides, I just borrowed it from whatever,” she paused. "woman left it here. We all know that your fidelity is,” she paused again.
“Legendary.”
He stared at her and his lip curled slightly. "Hardly. It looks cheap. But what can one expect from someone who mutilates herself?" He smiled and
nodded at another passing couple. Her father loved to bring up her brief foray into cutting herself; seemingly thrilled by her failings.
“At least I don't sell myself like you do! Aren’t your favours for sale for the highest bidder? All you care about is image. You don't give a shit about me,
Mr. President,” she ground out the last phrase.
"For Chrissake, keep your voice down."
"When did you stop being my dad?" she asked almost brokenly.
"When did you become an obnoxious little whore?”
"Probably when you stopped caring, Mr. President!" She tried to break away, but he held her too tightly.
"I heard all about Vegas. My daughter was publicly cavorting with a croupier. How do you think that makes me feel?”
She was shocked. She had been very discreet, and Charles had been kind. For most of it, he hadn't even realized who she was. Why did her father
have to cheapen her happiness? It had been a brief but wonderful affair. "How? How dare you spy on me. And he wasn't a croupier! "What was the
point? "But at least I haven't mauled every stripper on capitol hill. Thank you for the dance, Mr. President."
He glared at her and let her go. She turned on her heel and walked off. Her mother was in a group not too far away. "Good evening, Mother!"
Marlena looked up and smiled at her airily. "Darling! That dress is stunning. You look lovely. Your father will hate it."
"He does." She looked at the crowd around her mother and tittered a laugh she didn't feel. "But what can you expect from Dad?"
"The President is so behind in fashion, but what man isn't? Especially when it comes to his daughter?” replied her mother and they crowd laughed.
The women launched into a discussion about the lesser points of the male of the species. Eventually, Ysabeaux drifted off toward and wandered
around the fringes of the party; eating and drinking, doing the best to avoid her father. The faces about her swam in an endless myriad of frozen
smiles and knowing eyes, the inane chatter enough to drive her mad. She hated the falseness of her father’s sycophants. How many of them were
really here to celebrate her parent’s anniversary? They just wanted to be seen with that glowing persona, the President of the United States, the
hated mask her father would wear for another three years. Around midnight she passed a wine steward. She took a bottle of wine and went out to
hide on the terrace.
The rain had washed the clouds away and the night was clear. She sighed and looked longingly at the stars, wishing she was anyone other than who
she was. The money, the prestige, it wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth this. Ysabeaux was lonely. Lonely and angry in ways she couldn’t express. She
resented life for everything denied to her because of her father’s job. She had borne it silently for so long, and now, despite her feeble attempts at
rebellion, it threatened to consume her. The endless whirl of gaiety, the false pantomime of friendships based on using each other. It made her sick.
She started down the steps and walked over to the pool. There were days when she wanted to jump in and stay at the bottom. A light wind rippled
the surface of the water. A few indelicate swigs as she worked her way to finishing the bottle. A tear slipped slowly down her cheek.
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