Please keep in mind this part is more of a branch to really set this story in motion, though we do get introduced to a few more important key figures in this story.
For those of you who need some facts on the 1960s, it was of course a time of rampant racism and the height of the Civil Rights Movement. Lyndon B. Johnson, or LBJ for short, was Kennedy's Vice President while J. Edgar Hoover was the directer of the FBI.
Facts aside, enjoy the story and be sure to comment at the end!
I never thought going undercover as a secretary could be so, well, boring. All it has been so far is answering the telephone, dictating for the president, screening visitors, and organizing paperwork. You think I would discover some sort of lead behind the president's killer by now but no, nothing has turned up so far.
Despite the boring mundane nature of this undercover work so far, Victoria has had it worse than me. Being African-American, she has to investigate this case while dealing with the rampant racism that was still present in America during this era, or is STILL present in America during this era. Yet, this has also assisted her in getting a seemingly menial job that just so happens to make it very easy and convenient for her to eavesdrop. She is supposed to be in the background, no one will ever suspect her of anything.
I glance up at the clock as it chimes 5:00. Another day gone by, and we still are somewhat haplessly searching for a lead to who is behind the Kennedy assassination. I stand up, stretching, just when the door to the oval office opens.
"Mr. President!" I say, snapping to attention. I will consent to one thing, he has to be more handsome than all the photographs depict. Though he is just as much, if not more of a womanizer than all the books in the 21st century say, which makes me feel all the more sorry for Jackie.
"Relax, Ms. Wilson," he tells me with a smile. "I just came to ask if you would not mind staying to take notes on a meeting between my brother, Johnson, Hoover, and myself".
I blink once, this may be the breakthrough Victoria and I were waiting for. I have to hide my excitement as I answer the President. "Of course sir. I would be more than happy to stay".
"Great," he says with a small smile. "Go get yourself something to eat and be back by 6:30".
"Yes, sir," I say, heading off into the kitchen hoping to run into my sister on the way. I find Victoria sitting in the servants’ dining room next to the kitchen, sipping a hot cup of fragrant tea.
"Tory!" I hiss. "The president has asked me to stay to take notes on a meeting."
Her eyes meet mine over the teacup, waiting for me to continue.
"The meeting is between two people who probably hate the Kennedy brothers more than the Russians".
"LBJ and Hoover?" I can see that I now have finally caught Tory's interest.
Tory sets her teacup down on her saucer with a clank. "You have to listen for subtext Jaz. Listen and watch for body language. Follow those two men after the meeting if you can. This may be the biggest chance we have to find a lead".
I nod, time was ticking. It may be in fact the middle of July, 1963, but each and every day that passed without a lead brought us closer to the fateful day in November.
"I will try to see if I can serve at the meeting. It would be good to have two sets of ears at the meeting".
"Good luck," I tell her, knowing it has not been easy for her so far. She has faced nothing but grief from the white chief of household staff, all because she was black. On top of everything, she still has not quite bought the fact that we have really been thrown back in time as I have.
It would all be easier if we actually remembered what had happened to us right before we were thrown back in time. Apparently, according to Heath, the memory loss is all just a side effect of time travel. I wanted to question how he could possibly know this having been born in the past, but I decided that some things are better left unsaid at this point.
"What's cooking?" I ask her.
"Rosemary chicken and wild rice," Victoria tells me bluntly. "Do me a favor and bring me a plate too".
I nod, standing and heading for the kitchen. The black cook is an older women in her mid-fifties. She has a kind, grandmotherly like demeanor about her, and does not question Victoria and me frequently associating with each other.
"Hello, Miss Jasmine," she greets me with a smile.
"Claudia," I greet her with a smile and nod in return. "Tell me, what does one have to do to get a couple plates of your legendary chicken?"
Claudia smiles. "That kind of flattery will get you a taste of my cooking anytime, Miss Jasmine," she tells me with a smile, grabbing a couple of plates and dishing up our food.
I take the plates back to the servant's dining room with a smile, comforted by the fact that there are still a few kind people in what has turned out to be a harsh and cruel decade to be alive in.