Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake (20 page)

‘Hello, Ms Bachmann… it’s… it’s Minnie,’ said Minnie, falteringly. 

‘I
know
it’s you,’ said Bachmann rolling her eyes. She had that popular cheerleader air about her that always eluded Minnie. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I just need a little moment of your time.’

‘This is getting a little
tiresome
, darling,’ said Bachmann. She turned to one of her male
companions and said theatrically, ‘It’s so
exhausting
being constantly in demand.’ The man honked like a highway truck. His laughter attracted everyone’s attention.

Minnie continued to hover by the table and dropped her voice. ‘You need to talk to Greene.’

Bachmann’s eyes narrowed fractionally before her megawatt smile kicked in again. She said smoothly, ‘Actually, we need to talk about the lavatorial plumbing issue in Fisherman’s Wharf. Indeed, we have other pressing matters to discuss, too.’ 

This prompted more sycophantic honks and hoots around the table. 

Minnie glared at the man who was laughing the loudest. She turned back to Bachmann and quickly muttered that she’d spoken with Greene. Bachmann raised her hand like a traffic-control cop. The stop sign was a clear and aggressive signal to Minnie to pull the plug on further conversation.

Minnie obediently stopped talking. 

‘Learn from your mistakes, you foolish girl. We do
not
discuss personal matters in public,’ hissed Bachmann. She looked alarmingly like a ventriloquist dummy. Her lips hadn’t moved but each word was viciously enunciated behind the winning smile. 

Minnie persisted. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk in private? I would be grateful for your opinion on a matter that concerns us both.’

But Bachmann had turned her attention back to her audience at the table, effortlessly picking up the conversation where she had left off. More hee-hawing laughter ensued. 

Minnie felt mortified. She stood rigid, feeling horribly out of place in the swanky restaurant, noticing that the other diners were now starting to stare at her. She somehow resisted an overwhelming urge to throw a seeded bread roll at Bachmann’s head. It was proving impossible to get the woman’s attention. 

Then she pictured Angie’s T-shirt – the one her dearest friend had worn when she drove Minnie to the airport. It seemed like a telepathic message of support in Minnie’s time of need. 

Her mild-mannered, submissive demeanour suddenly cracked with the connection. ‘There is a special place in hell reserved for women who don’t support one another!’ Minnie barked the words out loudly and firmly as she resolutely squared her shoulders in Bachmann’s direction. It was as though Angie had taken over. 

There was a stunned silence around the Bachmann table. Other diners looked over to see who was making such a racket in the serene surroundings.

A waiter appeared at high-rail speed, skidding to a halt at Bachmann’s elbow to ask if everything was alright. The maitre d’ hovered, unsure if his intervention was required.

Minnie knew her time was up. She had no intention of letting someone frogmarch her out of the restaurant in front of so many watchful eyes. She was not going to be the after-lunch entertainment. She held her head up high and turned on her heel and quickly headed for the door, weaving around tables and chairs.

Bachmann stood up and spoke one commanding word in Minnie’s direction, ‘Wait!’  

Minnie stopped in her tracks.

‘I was at that luncheon. Dr Madeleine Albright gave a keynote speech at the CIA Women’s History Month Celebration.’

The people around the table nodded feverishly, never missing an opportunity to agree with their mayor. Bachmann stared at Minnie who was none the wiser, unaware she had just quoted a woman who had once worked in the President Clinton administration. Someone whom Bachmann evidently held in high regard.

‘I am a Democrat,’ declared Bachmann. This statement was imbued with fighting spirit, as though she had the power to walk on water. 

Minnie hurried back to the table. ‘I
need
your help,’ she said quietly.

Bachmann hesitated fractionally. Then with sleight of hand, she flicked an embossed business card in Minnie’s direction. ‘Call my PA. Make an appointment. Today!’

Incredibly, exactly two hours later, Bachmann arrived in a chauffeur-driven limousine outside the diner opposite Minnie’s motel. Minnie was sitting at a table on the sidewalk as instructed.

The blacked-out window inched down a fraction. ‘Get in,’ ordered Bachmann.

Minnie looked down at her fresh cup of coffee. It was too much to expect that Bachmann would want to join her. 

To Minnie’s surprise the interior of the car was more like a spacious office, with sumptuous leather seating and even a desk. Bachmann’s powerful perfume created an olfactory barrier between the two women. Minnie tried to cross it with words. ‘First and foremost, I wanted to let you know that I’ve spoken to Greene. He is here in San Francisco and he is okay, well, as okay as can be expected,’ she said. 

Bachmann looked puzzled. It was the first genuine emotion Minnie had ever seen her express. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘What’s in it for you?’

Bachmann’s chauffeur drove round and round the block. Minnie was not enjoying the heavily perfumed air in the car and motion sickness threatened. She tentatively suggested a drive to Pillar Point Harbor and a walk on the beach. The idea had been triggered by Jackson who had frequently talked about the surf at the north edge of Half Moon Bay, off Pillar Point. ‘We need to talk about what is happening, not simply cover old ground again. I thought a neutral space would help us achieve this,’ Minnie reasoned.

Bachmann looked as though she was going to shoot down the idea but then she hesitated. The suggestion of drive to the beach after a formal lunch seemed to appeal to her. Bachmann looked at her watch then looked at Minnie. ‘Let’s do it.’

Minnie nodded.

‘However, I should warn you that this is against my better judgement,’ Bachmann added. ‘I prefer to follow a schedule. The last time I made a spontaneous decision was when I left The Savoy without my fiancé. That decision had disastrous consequences.’ She gave Minnie a knowing look.

Minnie blushed. There followed a silence as the car stopped and started in the busy city. It wasn’t too long before the high-rise buildings and people on the streets started to thin out. 

Bachmann broke the silence. ‘Did you know that I’ve had to hire a global reputation strategist?’

Minnie pulled an interested face to give the impression that she knew what Bachmann was talking about. She kept her response as neutral as possible. ‘How is that working out for you?’

‘Expensively.’

Minnie got the feeling that Bachmann would bill her the invoice if she could.  

‘Someone works around the clock to create, enhance or, in my case, save my reputation,’ explained Bachmann dryly. ‘I am struggling to project some “me” appeal. You know, the “likeability” factor.’

‘Oh,’ said Minnie. She knew that Bachmann was just about to get to the point. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like it.

‘You made me look like a heartless cow. The night at The Savoy was a public relations meltdown for me.’

Minnie chewed the inside of her cheek, embarrassed. The way Bachmann said, ‘The night at The Savoy’ made it sound like the opening title to a horror movie, which, in Minnie’s mind, was pretty close to the truth.

There was no escaping the facts though. Bachmann had blown the role of the supportive fiancée the minute she dashed from the dinner table at The Savoy and jetted back to the States without so much as a backward glance.

Bachmann intuitively picked up on what Minnie was thinking and attempted to defend her actions. ‘You caught me off guard. You announced to everyone that Ashton was sick. I was completely in the dark about it. What was I supposed to do? I was, unusually for me, at a total loss. I needed to speak with my people.’

‘I didn’t announce it to everyone,’ said Minnie stiffly. ‘I thought I was just talking to Greene.’

‘Well, we
all
heard,’ said Bachmann, not accepting an excuse.

‘He felt deserted,’ explained Minnie quietly.

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘It looked like that.’ 

Bachmann tutted, a great clicking noise as her tongue rolled off the roof of her mouth. ‘What was I supposed to do?’

‘Comfort him?’

‘Hindsight is a great leveller.’

‘You weren’t concerned about him?’ questioned Minnie, genuinely puzzled.

‘I was
blindsided
,’ answered Bachmann smoothly, spoken like someone who had an answer for everything.

‘So now what?’

‘I will stick with Ashton. I’ll gain the disabled vote.’

‘He’s not disabled,’ said Minnie sharply.

‘He will be. Eventually.’

‘Is this what the reputation strategist advised?’ asked Minnie.

Bachmann nodded. 

‘Is that what you want?’

‘What I want right now is to know the purpose of this road trip,’ said Bachmann skillfully side-stepping the question, a well-practiced politician’s move.

Minnie looked out of the window thinking how to open the crucial phase of the conversation but Bachmann suddenly seemed in no rush to talk. She had sunk back into her seat, head down, looking at her hands. She remained uncharacteristically silent for the rest of the drive to Pillar Point. She checked a couple of messages on her phone but didn’t pass comment or strike up conversation. Minnie, meanwhile, had a tourist moment and gawped out of the window taking in the stunning coastline in the sunshine. It was a relatively companionable silence, which surprised Minnie. She was more used to Bachmann delivering rousing speeches and working a crowd. She had no idea what was going through the woman’s mind. They just sat side by side lost in their own worlds. 

As they neared their destination, Bachmann snapped back into action and instructed the driver to pull over. 

‘Let’s walk and talk,’ she commanded as soon as she caught sight of the broad beach stretching out before them. She was out of the car and off at a gallop. Bachmann had a long-legged stride that meant Minnie had to use a speed walk, almost a trot, in order to keep up. The beach was beautiful and the tide was out. 

After maintaining the punishing pace across the sand, Bachmann eventually stopped at a picnic bench overlooking the ocean. Minnie collapsed onto the seat and took a moment to catch her breath. Bachmann sat on top of the picnic bench, resting her elegant feet on the seat. She focused her gaze on the horizon. ‘Strong rip currents can pull even the most experienced swimmers off shore around here,’ she said. 

Minnie watched the waves crashing onto the sand. She could believe it. 

Bachmann turned to Minnie. ‘I’m frightened he will go under.’

Minnie nodded. ‘I know.’ There was no need to confirm who she was talking about.

Minnie had one of those surreal spaced-out moments. Home was on the other side of the world to her. She was sitting next to the acting mayor of San Francisco. The routine of work was totally gone now, the loss had left her drifting without purpose. Cut loose from her precious routines Minnie, too, was frightened about going under. It terrified her but it was also strangely liberating. There was a tremendous energy in the ocean before her. An enormous, tangible force that made her think of Jackson. He had to be skilled and fearless to take on such an opponent. Minnie was also thinking about Greene. She needed to be skilled and fearless otherwise he would go under, too.

Bachmann was unsurprisingly more hard-wired to the deceptions and mercenary workings of the world than Minnie was. It didn’t shock her in the slightest to hear that Greene wanted to issue a denial of the disease. She didn’t react at all to the threats against Angie and James George.

Levchin’s proposals and self-promotion of his clinics didn’t seem too outlandish, in her opinion, either. ‘He is running luxurious retreats for private enterprise. He isn’t coming up with a pathogen to wipe out the human race,’ she said.

‘I know that,’ said Minnie defensively. ‘It doesn’t mean that I have to help him promote his business though.’

‘Greene and this Dr Whatshisname are using each other,’ Bachmann said. ‘It is a behavioural pattern typical of extremely successful people. You have spectacularly managed to get yourself caught in the middle.’

‘Is blackmail a behavioural pattern of successful people, too?’ asked Minnie, still worried about the threatened repercussions.

Bachmann smiled and shrugged, ‘No comment.’

‘I’m here because of Greene. I’m not interested in helping Levchin,’ said Minnie. ‘He’s not a nice person,’ she added, visibly upset.

Bachmann looked hard at Minnie. ‘You’re the mathematician, right?’

Minnie nodded.

‘Ashton Greene and this doctor share a common denominator. Divide each of them into two equal parts and it comes down to work and money. Don’t make this more complicated than it is.’

‘I’m being blackmailed.’

‘Heavily persuaded.’

Minnie sighed and said after some deliberation, ‘I’ll apologise but I’m not discrediting Sid Zane. I’m not prepared to promote Levchin Care Clinics either.’

Bachmann’s eyes settled on Minnie with unblinking intensity. ‘Darling, it doesn’t sound as though you have a choice. Greene is good on his word. Forget about your friends for a second.
If he decides that your career is over, it’s over. You must put yourself first.’

‘If I could just talk to him,’ said Minnie.

‘Let me be blunt,’ said Bachmann, her Californian twang stretched out the sentence. ‘You’ve put yourself in a non-negotiable situation.’ 

‘It’s not right,’ said Minnie shaking her head.

‘I know that you like to give the impression that you are reliably stupid but I know a smart woman when I see one.’ 

‘What should I do?’ asked Minnie.

‘Save yourself,’ she said to Minnie without needing to consider her answer. 

‘Will you help me write the apology? I’m good with numbers not words.’

‘I had noticed,’ said Bachmann dryly. 

Minnie waited expectantly. Bachmann eventually answered. ‘The last time you spoke out it had disastrous consequences. Based on that recollection alone, I believe I have no choice but to let you have access to my speech writer.’