THE FIXER

Gwyneth "Gwen" Calhoun.Crisis Manager/Consultant Owner of Calhoun & AssociatesDemocrat | Player

[gwencalhoun-blog]

dianahartley‌:

Diana’s lips curled up into something of a smirk.  “Touché,” she replied.  “But if you’ve done your job correctly at the end of those eighteen years they’re out of your hair and you have someone to continue the legacy of your family.”  That was something her family had ingrained in her from the time she was very young.  After all, that was what respectable and rich Southern families did.  They continued that legacy and heritage.

“Maybe that’s where motherhood has been an advantage for me,” Diana told her.  “I had practice dealing with these immature temper tantrums before the very rule of law was hanging in the balance.”  She shrugged through, her shoulders rising and falling while she pondered the comment.  “I could never spend all my time cleaning up those messes.  It’s admirable that you can.”

Legacy. A concept Gwen never considered beyond her career. As close as she was to her family, carrying on the Calhoun name with a child carried more negatives than positive to the woman. No, no she’d rather immortalize her legacy in other ways in her quest for power within D.C. “Can’t say I agree but I can definitely respect that point of view. Well, hopefully they’ll make you proud.” The judgement was dropped from her voice, placed with a rare sincerity on such a subject.

“There’s no better training, I assume. If you can handle a toddler or a teenager, then dealing with all of this...” She motioned aimlessly to the space around them. “...must be a breeze. So, that’s your secret to success.” Gwen continued with a light chuckle. “In my defense, I couldn’t spend my time cleaning up a babies mess, so it’s admirable that you did.” 

[gwencalhoun-blog]

fernandoxchavez‌:

“Can’t, won’t,” he shrugs, “The result is the same.” He shakes his head, not smiling. Fernando knows that not many people would tell off most people like this — maybe they’d do it to him — and he has to appreciate her for it. But it’s not enough to make him cave. “Mr. Secretary”, he corrects her, despite not caring for the title. “And I thought a lot of things too, but I was wrong so maybe you are too.”

He tries to sound calmer, as if none of this is affecting him. “And I know it’s your job, and I respect you. But if you believe that what you do it anything other than babysitting coward manbabies I’ll have to disagree with you.” Fernando throws his head to the side, looking away from her. He knows this was an unnecessary comment, but he is unhappy about it and needs to show it to her. 

“I’ve made you an offer, Mrs. Calhoun, don’t expect me to strip away my pride and beg on my knees.”

Pettiness and politics went hand-in-hand in this town. Everyone held a fucking grudge and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to get their own form of vengeance when the moment appeared. It was a power move and, with an ego oversized ego of her own, it wasn’t something she’d simply roll over and tolerate. “My client hired a professional--the best in the business, might I add-- to assist in reaching a resolution, Mr. Secretary. The only acting like a manbaby, as you like to call it, and throwing a fit here is you.” A brow arched throwing her own jab in his direction. 

“I’m not asking you beg.” Yet. “I’m trying to negotiate a compromise -- a resolution -- that leaves both parties happy.” Her voice remained calm and steady, despite the aggravation that was building inside of her. “We may have different end goals but I think we both can agree that we don’t want this issue to get bigger or messier.” And best believe, Gwen knew how to exploit and manipulate the media to make this blow up in his face should he decide not to play ball. “I like you, respect you even, I don’t want it to have to come to that.”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

julianberkeley‌:

Julian’s smile widens; painfully political. “When have I ever disappointed you, Gwen?”

Shutting the door behind him, Julian makes his way around the long table, passing multiple sets of chairs; which made it even more unsettling for anyone that peaked through the blinds, as the one he chooses is the one immediately next to hers.

“Madam President asked for my help recruiting you on her team,” he says, cutting right down to the chase. “I don’t know if you read Steele’s article on her first two years in office, but neither Wright nor her team are particularly pleased with it.” Unless, of course, you’re her Veep. “She needs a fixer. Simple. What complicates things is she wants you.”

“Never.” Gwen easily responded. “And I’m hoping today isn’t the day you decide to start.” Her gaze followed his as he made his way to the seat closest to hers. Was Julian always a man for showmanship? Because right now, he had Gwen at the edge of her seat. Which is a rarity considering who the woman was. 

“Everyone in this town read that article.” She nodded her head. How the President let something like that hit the newsstands without killing it was beyond Gwen. Before Julian even uttered the word fixer, Gwen was able to put the pieces together. The President didn’t just need a fixer, she needed a goddamn miracle worker. Which, lucky for her, Gwen was both. “I uncomplicate things, Julian, that’s my job.” Her lips quirked up into a small grin. “You know something that I don’t know? Because there’s no one in this town who can do what I do, wanting me is the smartest decision Madame President’s made in well...” Gwen trailed off, watching her words and shaking her head. “It’s just smart, I’ll leave it at that.”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

dianahartley‌:

Diana chuckled lightly and shook her head.  “They’re such a blessing.  It’s supposed to come easily but whoever said that had never met a teenager before.”  She loved her kids.  they were important to her and she would never regret them.  However, that didn’t mean her life wouldn’t be a little more manageable if it wasn’t for them.

“Honestly, it’s a lot of practice,” she mused.  There was no real manual to explain how parenting works.  Diana had been thrown into the deep end when Henry was born.  She simply had to cope with that from the very beginning.  Adaptability and learning on the fly had served her well as a mother and she knew it was a skillset that would continue serving her even long after her youngest had left the nest.  “They make mountains out of molehills, but I suppose it’s good practice for dealing with the immaturity some of those on the Hill possess.”

“Nothing is easy about something you’re obligated to take care of for eighteen years -- or, in some cases, more.” Gwen replied before shooting a sympathetic look in Diana’s direction. “No offense.” She added with a sweet smile. “I respect parents, kids just aren’t for me.” Was added as an explanation and a simple shrug of her shoulders. 

With forty creeping up on her, the pestering questions of when will you give me grandchildren seemed to fade away. Years ago she made the conscious decision to choose a career over a family and, so far, it’s one she hasn’t regretted. Hopefully, it’ll be worth it in the end. “Some? You mean all.” She countered with a chuckle of amusement. “Maybe this is why I don’t have any, I’m stuck dealing with children and cleaning up their messes on a daily basis.”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

fernandoxchavez‌:

@gwencalhoun

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you more.” But he isn’t, really. He’s just unhappy at the situation and that it escalated to this points. While both of them would prefer it were handled behind closed doors, the fact that they had hired Gwen Calhoun to manage the situation was an indication of how scared they were. “I think it’s a bit childish to send someone to negotiate in your place, especially when you owe me a huge apology.” He was mostly petty. “Please, make sure your boss hears that.” He added with a cynic smile.

“Can’t or won’t?” Gwen was quick to counter, perfectly arched brow raised. Still, her voice remained calm and her signature poker face didn’t at all show the frustration that was slowly building with each passing moment. “Fernando, let’s not resort to name calling. I thought we were above that.” Her tone was patronizing but if he wanted to play like this, there were certainly a few colorful nicknames she could toss out if he wanted to go there. “Anything you have to say to my client, you can say to me.” Letting out a sigh, she continued. “Look, I think there’s a way this can be handled so both parties are happy. Y’know, a compromise -- ever heard of that or is your stubbornness getting in the way of the good judgment we both know you have?”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

julianberkeley‌:

@gwencalhoun

By the time Julian makes it to the meeting room, Gwen Calhoun is already there, waiting. It was too big a place for just the two of them, too long a table with too many chairs that would remain unfilled. Julian would have met her anywhere else, his own home if needed be, but these were state matters; these were POTUS’ requests— not that Gwen aware of it yet. But much Theresa’s loyal servant, it left Julian no options but to obey. Well, sort of.

“Would you believe it if I told you it wasn’t me who called you here?”

When you’re called -- or is the better word, summoned -- by the White House, you don’t say no. The reasoning for the meeting was vague and curiosity weighed heavy on Gwen’s mind as she was guided into an oversized meeting room. Despite declining a beverage, water was still placed in front of her and she was left with silence until the doors swung open, the last person she expected waltzed through the doors.

Legs cross, leaning into her seat as Gwen bit back a smile at the sight of Vice President Julian Berkeley. “Actually, yes.” Especially considering how the current administration was in shambles. “But if you’re only here to say hello then color me disappointed.” She added, not at all coy about her preference for the man.

[gwencalhoun-blog]

cassiusxking‌:

It was one of those moments, those particular Monday’s where the world seemed to be fucking ending, and no one could differentiate their ass from their heads, and he—Cassius King—was expected to draw his employees a road map to figure it out. Wasn’t his position clear? He was here with the purpose, and none of it was regarded in holding the hands of lesser people with whom he was seriously considering firing just out of incompetence.

Staggering to his office, as he fell into his chair, a grunt of exhaustion fell from his lips. He looked to the clock—fourteen hours. He’d been there fourteen hours. The consideration to curl up in the plush seat was optimal, and highly considered, before Cassius pushed himself from his slouched position, and rose, reaching for his jacket. The opening of his office door behind him, as he turned, pulling one arm through the overcoat, and the over. “Unless you’re coming through that door to offer to buy me a drink, I don’t want to hear it.” He paused, finally looking up to see who entered. “I’m about to leave for the day.”

Head held high and heels furiously click clacking against tiled floors, Gwen walked into the building like she owned the damn place. Convinced that confidence could get her anywhere, her life’s motto hasn’t failed her yet when she catches Cassius before he can slip out of the office. Considering how many skeletons she’s hidden on other people’s behalves she probably shouldn’t push her luck with Cassius -- but when has Gwen Calhoun ever known her limit.

“That can be arranged.” Arms folded across her chest, an amused glint in her eyes. “Will that make you play nice if I do?”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

evangelinedean‌:

D.C. wasn’t the favourable streets of Manhattan, but it was something she’d grow accustom too. She had too, anyways. The fast exterior of the infamous home loomed as her day-to-day pressings would revolve around the Press Room, and the state of congress. Perhaps it was bitterness of her family’s recent loss that left her in a peculiar state of annoyance. Usually the charade of silence was met when the forthcoming quip ‘c’mon honey, smile’ broke from the mouth of unwanted attention—but that was a whole other knack to deal with. The West Wing bustling with those like herself, left with unanswered questions, save for the few people got down. It was terribly frustrating. But no more than being the new kid on the block.

Now, as she stood off to the side, another day of notes being pocketed, questions to the Press Secretary unanswered—she looked up, as bodies mingled with those unlike the regulars to don the West Wing. Moving through the small crowd, she shifted to the side, and caught sight of another. “Sorry,” Evangeline made her presence known. “Uh—Anywhere to get a decent cup of coffee? The cart guy over there not as good as what everyone says he is.” She paused. “I’m guessing his taste buds are dead and gone, but that’s my observation.”

Gwen Calhoun in the White House? Nothing good could from such a thing and it probably wouldn’t. Standing in the back of the room, the red head simply observed the media circus that played out in front of her. The administration was in shambles and the amount of ducking and diving only succeeded in making matters worse. Frustration loomed in the air as another briefing culminated in more questions than answers. Which is never a good thing. 

Glancing down at her watch, there was still time before her scheduled meeting which is part of the reason she entertained the question with a response. “After all of that, I’d assume you want something much stronger than a cup of coffee.” Gwen stated, red lips twisting into a smirk. “And, honestly, the distance to the nearest bar is a lost closer than a good cup of coffee.”

[jessicachastainsource]

Miss Sloane (2016) dir. John Madden

[gwencalhoun-blog]

ezrasheinfeld‌:

There is something in the air in Washington. Everyone will talk about New York, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg and the charging energy in the air, but nothing compares to Washington D.C.’s atmosphere as election season approaches. Talk about Spring, Autumn or Winter: this season is Hell and it’s high Summer. And Ezra completely loves it.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t: being right at the centre stage, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the capitol, the look of indifference in people’s face, the haughty way of their walk. He understands. Power has always been the single most dangerous thing in human’s hands. It has the ability to corrupt even the most innocent people or completely damn those already corrupt.

To his surprise, he doesn’t feel he misses it at all. He lost too much to this town, and power, true power, was long gone, even before he was strong armed into submission. There’s a certain poetic continuity in those actions so he could never really resent them. That’s the game everyone plays in Washington and he was defeated but not entirely lost. It opened new doors for him. He had a new playground, one he was still trying to navigate: that’s precisely what happens when he looks into the camera with the iconic shot of the white house behind him, ready to utter the carefully scripted words for his new late-night show when someone blocks it, standing precisely in front of the lense.

“Excuse me, you’re blocking the view.” He walks away from his designated spot in the hopes of gaining their attention.

Honestly, this is Gwen’s favorite time of the year. Hollywood has award season and D.C. has the primaries. As 2020 inches closer and close by the second, minute and day, Gwen is thriving. The tension in the air is undeniable -- everyone on edge. There’s no denying the upcoming election is going to be a bloodbath and Gwen can’t wait. 

As the face of her company, Gwen’s day is never dull. With her own personal client list to attend to, she’s also taking meetings to provide her expertise for those considering joining the race. Of course Gwen thinks she’s hot shit but, honestly, it’d be foolish for anyone not to dial her number before throwing their hat into the ring. 

As she’s dashing from one meeting to head back to her offices, she’s barely paying attention to where she’s going. More so focused on the phone in hand, shooting off a flurry of texts at record speed when she hears a voice call out to her. Her high heels come to a pause, a brow arching before eyes lift from the screen and looking to her right. “Oh trust, the view won’t get any better than this.”

[gwencalhoun-blog]

amayarosalesshapiro‌:

Amaya isn’t, by anyone’s standards, a particularly patient woman. In fact, her impatience with the country as a whole has been broadcast on national television more than once, and her office staff knows all too well that she expects concrete results within allotted time frames if and whenever possible. So needless to say, it doesn’t take very long for her resolve to break. Ten to fifteen minutes at most spent sitting on her designated park bench, attempting to ignore the pressure of eyes boring into her skull as she flips through a text of selected writings from Nietzsche. Until finally, with a breathy exhale and a closing press of her book, Amaya turns to address the issue at hand as calmly as possible. “May I help you?”

Was she staring? No, no, Gwen would classify it (or spin, as some would call it in her profession) as watching in amusement. She noted two people tripping when they caught a glimpse of the title, an older member of the House simply get up and leave and she swore someone damn near break their neck to try to get a peak. “Help? No.” Gwen responded, legs crossing and fingers raking through her bright red hair. “I’m just -- admiring how ballsy you are.” More like transparent but she was attempting to be polite today.

[gwencalhoun-blog]

dianahartley‌:

Despite her attempts to play the perfect mother in the press, there was no denying Diana’s home life took a backseat to her career.  Her kids suffered for it, but she tried.  Even if that meant trying to deal with her son’s poor midterm grade in the midst of a workday.

“Henry,” Diana sighed in exasperation while pinching the bridge of her nose, her phone in her other hand as she spoke with her teenage son.  “I don’t have time for this right now.  We’ll discuss this when I get home,” she told her eighteen year old son.  Without another word, she hung up the phone and shook her head, glancing up just in time to see someone standing nearby.  “Teenagers, right?  Sometimes I swear they speak a completely different language,” she mused.

Gwyneth Calhoun would never call herself or want to be seen as predictable but, admittedly, even she had a few routines she couldn’t crack. Despite an intern slugging every daily newspaper and magazine to the office, she still had one neatly tucked away beneath her arm. Both hands are full, one with an oversized cup of coffee and the other with her phone, which currently had the majority of her attention.

At least until a voice distracted her, eyes lifting up from the email she’d been reading to the blonde women. Children...or well, in this case teeangers -- a foreign concept to Gwen. Not only because the idea of having some of her own was borderline repulsive but because she could hardly recall that period of her childhood. Probably for good reason. “And yet, you’re supposed to love them unconditionally.” A hint of amusement lingered on her red stained lips. “Parents truly are saints for putting up with all of...that..don’t know how you do it.”

[mikaeled]

I told her it was mind-boggling, ingenious, morally repugnant and completely unacceptable.

[nakedhiddles]