Manning floated across the ground and back to the lights of the pavilion. There were still quite a few of both teams milling around as she strolled through the bar area.
“Been busy?” Lydia enquired.
“You could say that,” Manning began before heading to the bar and ordering another five Hooch’s.

Alan Saltmayor saw the woman bowl back into the bar, with her Oakleys shading her eyes and fixed his gaze on her. She had a brief interaction with one or two of the other girls before ordering a mammoth round of drinks at the bar which she seemed to be tackling by herself. Saltmayor approached her.
“Hi, I’m Alan Saltmayor, the President’s Chief of Staff.”
Manning turned to face him.
“Alright pal, what’s your game then?”
“I just wanted to introduce myself and give you this phone on which the President will be able to contact you. Don’t tell anyone about it.” Alan went on.
“Fuck that noise bruv, if he wants me he can find me on Twitter. @TheHarlowPython is the handle. He can DM the shit out of me on there.”
Saltmayor was taken aback by Manning’s whole demeanour, what on earth did Trump see in this woman?
“I must insist ma’am, Mr. Trump has asked that I pass this to you.”
“Look fella, Mr. Trump is wallowing in a puddle of my piss out there at the minute so putting his name to something isn’t going to give it any fucking credibility.”
Saltmayor assumed this was some sort of joke and attempted to drop the phone in her pocket. As he lurched forward Manning reached out and took a grab at his crotch.
“Decent package son, play your cards right we could have some fun together. You must know the number of this phone? Just ask your boss about the places I could take you in the sack!”
Alan felt a flood of nausea come over him, his stomach turned. He locked his eyes on Manning.
“Look, I have no fucking idea what my boss sees in you, I think you’re a fucking mess. For whatever reason he seems to like you. When he wants to contact you he will do on this phone. That is all I have to say to you, now kindly get out of my face.”
“Alright ball buster, are you on the reds or something? I’ll take the fucking phone, just cool your jets.”
With that Manning sunk the next two Hooch’s and strolled across the bar whacking numerous girls on the back as she passed.

Alan was beginning to wonder what the hell had happened so he ordered his men to look for his Trump. This had been a fuck up from the very start and he was getting it in the ear from the director of Markhams Inc, the company who had won the tender for the construction of the wall. The CEO was calling again, Alan ignored it. He needed to get his boss to the border in the next twenty-four hours otherwise he knew that the protestors could stall the work. If momentum built then there was the potential for public opinion to turn and fast. He didn’t need that… Trump didn’t need that, Alan needed to fix this and fast.

Alan made his way back to the convoy of cars and felt some relief as he spotted Trump getting into the back seat of his limo. As he opened the car door the stench of urine hit him like a train.
“Jesus Don, what the fuck happened to you? I thought she was joking when she said she had left you wallowing in her piss, but my fucking God you let her piss all over you?!?! What the actual fuck? We’ve got protestors threatening to derail the progression of your wall and you’re finding the time to get pissed on!”
Alan was clearly extremely angry and Trump knew that he had let what had happened get away from him. It was what Manning did to him though, she had a power over him and he couldn’t resist it.
“Alright Alan I know I’ve dropped the ball on this one but I’ve had my fun and we don’t need to chase her around now. Nobody saw anything and who would believe her if she told anyone anyway.” Trump said, eager to ensure that Alan stopped shouting at him.
The wall was something Trump knew he needed to focus on. He hated the Mexicans, he hated the fact that they strolled across the border every day to his precious United States.
“Get Air Force One ready Alan, we leave at once. But there is one condition,” Trump ordered.
“Sir,” replied Alan with an inkling of what was to come.
“She comes with us, we can’t have her speaking with anyone can we?” The President went on, softening his tone to try and reason with Saltmayor.
“Of course sir.”
Alan had a plan. What better place to get rid of this woman than at a construction site?

**********

Manning slept wonderfully that night, better than she had slept in years. Smoking had taken its toll on her and most nights she would wake with a coughing fit. Each attack would last for ten or so minutes before she could settle down again. Tonight was different, whether it was the sex or the drink she didn’t know, but she had blacked out as soon as she lay her head on the pillow.

‘I’m heartbroken (without your love) I’m heartbroken (yes I’ve had enough)’,’ Manning’s phone blared out. She woke with a start.
“Fuckin’ love this tune, Lydia this tunes facking class ain’t it? Met T2, Micah Richards and Anton Ferdinand at Uni when this tune dropped. Drinking champagne in the VIP wasn’t I?”
“Just answer the phone Alexei I’m shattered,” mumbled Lydia.
“Yes Trump, what you sayin’?” Grunted Manning as she slid ‘answer’ on the phone.
“Madam, it’s Alan Saltmayor.