Stevie Boot-Liquor #2

The Ushering of Destiny

The morning sun streamed through the open French doors of President-Elect Donold J. Grump’s suite at Maga Logo, the sea breeze carrying with it the faint scent of salt and sunscreen. Stevie Boot-Liquor stepped inside, his shoes clicking against the marble floor as he took in the opulence of the room. The walls were an overwhelming swirl of rainbow hues, clashing with the gold-trimmed furniture and thick, patterned rugs. It looked less like the residence of a world leader and more like a fever dream that had somehow gained sentience.

At the center of the chaos sat a low, glass coffee table surrounded by two identical love seats upholstered in red velvet. Grump was slouched on one, fork in hand, spearing what appeared to be scrambled eggs mixed with some kind of sautéed mushroom medley. But it was the figure snuggled up against him that caught Stevie’s attention: Insania Grump.

Draped casually across her father, Insania was the picture of careless luxury. She wore a matching brief tank top and gym shorts in a blinding neon pink, her midriff bare and adorned with a small diamond-pierced belly button that sparkled like a disco ball. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail, the ends curling just so, as though they too knew the importance of presentation.

“Stevie!” Grump boomed, his voice cutting through the air like a cymbal crash. “You’re late.”

Stevie flushed, though he was precisely on time. “My apologies, Mr. President-Elect,” he said with a slight bow. “Traffic on the—”

“Sit,” Grump interrupted, gesturing to the love seat opposite him. “And help yourself to Robert’s plate. He left in a hurry, and I hate wasting food.”

Stevie hesitated. The plate of leftovers sat in the center of the coffee table, looking less appetizing than intimidating. Mushrooms. He’d heard rumors of Grump’s “special” culinary preferences, and now they were staring him in the face. But Stevie was no fool. When the President-Elect offers you his scraps, you eat them.

“It would be a great honor to dine with you, Mr. President-Elect,” Stevie said, lowering himself onto the love seat and placing the plate on his lap. He picked up a fork and took a cautious bite. The mushrooms had an earthy, almost otherworldly taste that made his tongue tingle.

As he chewed, he couldn’t help but notice Insania watching him intently. Her big blue eyes locked onto his, and her glossy lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile. Then, to Stevie’s utter shock, she licked her lips and blew him a kiss.

Stevie’s fork clattered onto the plate. He wasn’t interested in women—never had been—but her actions were undeniably… distracting. He averted his gaze, focusing on the mushrooms, but Insania wasn’t done. She leaned forward, her ponytail swinging, and slipped her thumb into her mouth, sucking on it like a child.

Stevie’s heart raced. What was she doing? Was this some kind of bizarre Grump family power play? He tried to look anywhere but at her, but her exaggerated motions and the faint wet sounds were impossible to ignore.

“STEVIE!” Grump’s voice thundered, jolting Stevie so hard he nearly dropped the plate. “Focus!”

“Y-yes, Sir!” Stevie stammered, snapping his attention back to the President-Elect.

Grump set down his fork and leaned back, eyeing Stevie with a mix of amusement and irritation. “So,” he began, gesturing lazily with one hand, “you’ve worked for some of the biggest names in Texas. Governors, CEOs, even that oil guy with the ostrich obsession. Tell me—got any dirt on them?”

Stevie froze, his hands tightening around the plate. “Mr. President-Elect,” he said carefully, “I pride myself on loyalty. It would be a great breach of trust to speak ill of my former employers.”

Grump raised an eyebrow. “Not even for me?”

“No, Sir,” Stevie replied, his voice steady despite the mushrooms beginning to work their strange magic. “Loyalty is not something I compromise on. Ever.”

Grump chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made Stevie feel like a mouse being toyed with by a very large cat. “Good answer,” Grump said. “It was a test, you know. I wanted to see where your loyalties really lie.”

The air around Stevie seemed to shimmer. He blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but the mushrooms were pulling him into a surreal haze. He could see faint flashes of iridescent light in his peripheral vision, and he had the distinct sensation of something circling him. Sparky, Grump’s invisible dragon, zipped around his head, letting out excited chirps that only Grump could hear.

“Sparky likes you,” Grump said, pointing to the empty air beside him. “Says you’ll be my most loyal servant. Says you’ve got the right… what’s the word… vibe.”

Stevie swallowed hard, his stomach flipping. “Thank you, Sir. I assure you, my loyalty to you will be unwavering.”

Grump smirked, leaning forward. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. But you’re not gonna be my Deputy to the Deputy Chief of Staff.”

The words hit Stevie like a slap. He felt the world tilt, though it was hard to tell if it was the mushrooms or the crushing disappointment. “I… I see,” he managed, struggling to keep his composure. “May I ask why, Sir?”

Grump waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, you’re overqualified for that. I’ve got something much better in mind.”

Stevie’s ears perked up despite himself. “Better, Sir?”

Grump leaned back, his grin widening. “I’ve heard about your little… talent,” he said, tapping his nose. “The thing you do with shoes.”

Stevie felt his cheeks flush. “Ah, yes, Sir. My ability to detect health issues through—”

“Forget health issues,” Grump interrupted. “Can you sniff out loyalty? Betrayal? Faithfulness to me over the Constitution?”

Stevie hesitated, the room spinning slightly as Sparky fluttered down to perch on Grump’s shoulder. The dragon let out a tiny puff of iridescent smoke, which swirled like a halo above Grump’s head. Stevie blinked rapidly, but the vision remained. “I’ve never tested for emotions before,” he said cautiously, “but I suppose it’s possible.”

“Good. That settles it,” Grump declared. “I’m making you my Executive Usher.”

Stevie’s jaw dropped. “Executive Usher, Sir?”

“Think about it,” Grump said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Day One, I issue an executive order: everyone entering the Oval Office has to take off their shoes. For health reasons, of course. They’ll all wear these.” He reached under the coffee table and pulled out a pair of slippers adorned with his face, the grinning image stretched across the vamp.

Stevie stared at the slippers, his mind racing. It was absurd. It was ridiculous. It was… brilliant.

“You’ll be there,” Grump continued, “sniffing every shoe that comes through those doors. Kings, queens, presidents, dignitaries from all over the world. You’ll be my backup to Sparky. Between the two of you, no one will ever get the drop on me.”

Stevie felt his heart swell with pride. This was beyond anything he could have imagined. The chance to serve the President-Elect directly, to sniff the shoes of the world’s most powerful people—it was the job of a lifetime.

“Sir,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion, “I would be honored.”

“Of course you would,” Grump said with a wink. “Now eat up. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

As Stevie took another bite, he glanced over at Insania, who was now reclining lazily, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. She caught his eye and blew him another kiss, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. Stevie shook his head, trying to focus. The world might have been shifting beneath his feet, but one thing was clear: he was exactly where he was meant to be.