Mounting Fears (13 page)

The guests had been drinking since six-thirty, so they would be well oiled by the time he began to move among them. This was the kind of event the Secret Service liked, where every guest was known to them and had been vetted for criminal records or threats against the president. This was a “soft” event, except for Charlene.

Kitty spoke as they walked. “The committee chairman has followed your instructions to the letter,” she said. “Mrs. Branley will be seated on your right, perhaps in a wheelchair, we’re not sure yet, then Ralph Braden, the new CEO of Branley Industries, then Charlene, and boy-girl after that. Rivera, the governor-to-be will be on your left, then his wife, then boy-girl.”

“Charlene will try to change the place cards,” Will said.

“I’m on that, and so is the Secret Service.”

“How am I going to avoid an embrace with Charlene?”

“Frankly, I don’t know,” Kitty replied, “but even with no press or photographers there, you’re going to have to avoid the appearance of pushing her away. She’s a very popular lady with this crowd, and she has probably slept with half of them.”

“There’ll be a photographer there to take pictures of me with everybody,” Will said. “See that he leaves the room before the presentation of Charlene’s check.”

“Don’t worry, there’s only one, and he’s on my staff,” Kitty replied.

“See that no photos of me in the same frame as Charlene are released to the press.”

She opened the door to the meeting room for him. “Don’t worry.”

Will strode into the room and grabbed the first outstretched hand. “Hello, Mike,” he said. “How are Alice and the girls?”

The astonished man, whom he had never met before, managed to say, “Just fine, Mr. President,” before Will grabbed another hand. The photographer stayed at his elbow, getting at least one shot with every contributor. Then, out of a corner of his eye, Will could see Charlene Joiner elbowing her way through the crowd toward him. He tacked to his left, allowing the crowd to fill in between them, giving Charlene a cheerful wave.

A minute later, however, she appeared before him, wearing a dress that reminded him of the one Marilyn Monroe had worn when she sang “Happy Birthday” to Jack Kennedy, but lower-cut.

As she held out her arms to him, Will grabbed her hands and pulled them in front of her as he pecked her quickly on the cheek. He could feel the backs of his own hands pressing against her impressive breasts. “How are you, Charlene? Good to see you!”

“Will … ah, Mr. President, I need a moment of your time,” she was saying, but Will had already turned to another guest and his wife and was posing for a quick photo with them.

God only knew what cause Charlene wanted to buttonhole him about, he reflected. Larry Eugene Moody, her murderous ex-boyfriend, already had had his death sentence commuted. What the hell did she want now?

Will worked his way forward in the room, making progress, shaking hands, making eye contact, hugging and kissing wives, occasionally unable to block a hug from a male guest. Mentally, he counted, and when he was at ninety-two he had made the dais. Mrs. William Branley was being pushed in a wheelchair toward her seat next to his. Charlene was standing on the other side of her, and he managed to keep the wheelchair between them. Then, as he was about to take his seat, Charlene made her move and was deftly blocked by a large Secret Service agent who pretended to adjust Mrs. Branley’s chair, while another agent held Charlene’s chair. Reluctantly, she sat down next to the Branley Industries CEO, who immediately engaged her in conversation.

Will sipped lightly from a glass of champagne and conversed with Mrs. Branley until the first course arrived. Then he turned to Lieutenant Governor Rivera. “Mike, congratulations on ascending to the throne.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Rivera replied, smiling broadly, “but it may be more of a hot seat.”

Will laughed. “I expect you’ve got a pretty good handle on the job by now. After all, you’ve had a great role model in Marty.”

“That I have,” Rivera said, “though we disagree on a few issues.”

“I hope they’re local, not national,” Will said. “We can’t have any public squabbling between you two until after the election.”

Rivera seemed under no illusions about the seriousness of Will’s little joke. “You can rely on me, Mr. President.”

Will finished his first course, and when the filet mignon was served, he cut it in two and ate only half and a few vegetables. He avoided dessert and drank only a few more sips of his champagne. When coffee was being served he excused himself for a moment and used a backstage men’s room. “Don’t let anybody near here,” he said to an agent as he went inside. He had visions of Charlene barging in and holding his dick for him while he peed.

When he left the men’s room he stood in the wings and pretended to consult some notes while the little lectern was placed on top of the dinner table and the microphone rigged. The Secret Service used the opportunity to herd all the waiting and bussing staff out of the room and guard the doors against any premature return. Finally, when only guests and guards were left in the room, Miguel Rivera stood, welcomed the audience and, eventually, after what sounded like a campaign speech for his next term, introduced Will. As the crowd leaped to their feet, an aide exchanged the California seal for the presidential seal on the lectern, then Will stepped out.

He stood there waving and pointing at people until the applause slowly died, then began to speak. “As I was saying twenty-five million dollars ago …” The crowd roared and applauded again.

WILL FINISHED HIS SPEECH, then turned to Mrs. Branley to receive her check for a million dollars. As he thanked her profusely, he saw Charlene remove an envelope from her purse and push her chair back; then Kitty Conroy appeared from nowhere, plucked the check from her hand, and surreptitiously used a hip to shove her chair back in.

Will took the check from Kitty and put both checks in his inside jacket pocket. “And I also want to thank the beautiful and talented Charlene Joiner for her continuing support of our party and her generous donation of a million dollars to the Democratic National Committee. I’ll bet no Academy Award winners are doing that for the Republicans!”

Charlene tried to get up, but Kitty was standing behind her chair, blocking her move.

Finally, with a wave, Will was escorted from the room by a rear entrance and was whisked back to his suite in a golf cart with Kitty. “Nice work,” he said to Kitty as he opened the two envelopes and gave the checks to her. Then he noticed a note in one of the envelopes.

“Remember how good it was between us?” Charlene had written. He did. “I’ll be at the back entrance to the Presidential Suite twenty minutes after you leave the dinner.”

Will tore the note into small pieces and handed them to Kitty for disposal. “Tell the Secret Service to double the guard on the back door,” he said to her, “and to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if Charlene knows jujitsu.”

24

THE FOLLOWING MORNING WILL WALKED WITH HIS SECRET SERVICE DETAIL THROUGH the gardens of the hotel to the parking lot where his limousine was to be waiting. The Secret Service would have much preferred the car to come in the back way to his suite, but the driveway had been torn up by workmen repairing a water main.

He walked over the bridge that straddled the little pond with the swans and came to the end of the awning. The car was not there.

A Secret Service agent was on his radio immediately. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, there was an accident on Stone Canyon Road, and the car was held up for a couple of minutes. It will be right here.”

“It’s all right,” Will said. Then he heard the click of running high heels on the bridge behind him and a female voice, shouting.

“Mr. President!”

He turned to see Charlene Joiner running toward him. A Secret Service agent stepped in front of her, and she ran into him with a sound like a deer striking an oak.

“Will!”

Will sighed. “It’s all right,” he said to the agent. “Let her through.”

Charlene strode quickly toward him, and he held up a hand. She grabbed it and pressed it to her considerably exposed bosom. “Please, Will, I just need a moment.”

“What is it, Charlene?” he asked, attempting to disengage his hand from her left breast.

“It’s Larry,” she said. “I know it’s early to be talking about this, but once you’re reelected, you can pardon him.”

“Pardon him?”
Will asked, incredulous.

“Yes, you can do it without political consequences, once you’re reelected.”

“Charlene, the man is a rapist and murderer, and I will never,
ever
loose him upon an unsuspecting citizenry.”

“Will, Larry has done nearly ten years,” she said, and a tear trickled from the corner of an eye and down her cheek. “
Please
do the humanitarian thing. I’m going to set him up in a little business, and he can live a quiet and respectable life.”

“Charlene,” he said, finally recovering his hand from her bosom, “I will
not
pardon Larry Moody, and if you
ever
so much as mention him to me again I will not speak to you further, under any circumstances, and I don’t care how much money you give the party. I hope that’s perfectly clear.” The car rolled up, and an agent quickly had the door open. “Good-bye, Charlene,” Will said with a wave, and dove into the car. He looked back through the darkened glass as they drove away, and she was standing there, waving.

AIR FORCE ONE TOOK OFF half an hour later from Van Nuys Airport, and Will was very happy to be putting the entire country between himself and Charlene Joiner, though he was not sure it was enough. He had a long day’s travel ahead, with campaign stops in Denver, St. Louis, and Indianapolis on the way back to Washington, and there was work to deal with in his office between stops. It was dark when
Marine One
set down on the White House lawn.

“Where’s Kate?” he asked Kitty as they got off the copter.

“On the way in from McLean,” she said. “She should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Call her and tell her we’re having Martin Stanton to dinner in the quarters this evening,” he said. “Tell her she can take her shoes off.”

“Will do,” Kitty replied, flipping open her cell phone.

Will’s own cell vibrated on his belt, and he opened it. “Yes?”

“It’s Sam Meriwether, Mr. President,” his campaign manager said. “The Senate confirmed Martin Stanton as vice president a couple of minutes ago. We kept them here late to get it done.”

“That’s great news, Sam. Thank you for calling.”

“He’s at the White House now. I suggest a swearing-in ceremony in the East Room tomorrow morning, then Marty can head west for Mike Rivera’s swearing-in. We’re lining up half a dozen stops in California for him after that. There’s a real celebration going on among Hispanics in L.A. and San Diego, and we want to take advantage of that mood.”

“Good idea. Have you cleared my schedule for the swearing-in?”

“We have to move only one half-hour appointment with the Pakistani ambassador and the secretary of state to tomorrow afternoon.”

“Have the secretary call the ambassador personally about that. I don’t want him to feel shunted aside when we shunt him aside.”

“Right. That’s all. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye.” Will put away his cell phone and continued to the family quarters.

Martin Stanton was sitting before the fire when Will walked in. “Congratulations, Mr. Vice President,” Will said, shaking his hand. “That went about as smoothly as we could have hoped for. Have you talked to Sam Meriwether?”

“Yes, Will, and thank you again for the appointment. Where’s Kate?”

“She’ll be here in a few minutes. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll have some of that bourbon you like,” he replied.

Will tossed his jacket on a chair, loosened his tie, and went to the bar.

“I hear you handled Charlene Joiner nicely last night.”

“Yes, but not so well this morning.” Will told him about the early-morning encounter.”

“She really expected you to pardon the son of a bitch?”

“Charlene is a force of nature,” Will said, “and she’s accustomed to getting what she wants. Did you know she went to Atlanta and screwed the governor of Georgia to get Moody’s death sentence commuted?”

“I’d heard that, but I thought it was just a bawdy joke.”

“Nope. The embarrassing thing is, I facetiously suggested she do that, just to get her off my back. I was astonished when she actually pulled it off … ah, so to speak.”

Stanton laughed. “That’s unbelievable.”

“So is Charlene,” Will said, sipping his drink. “Oh, don’t mention her when Kate gets here.”

“Right.”

“Don’t mention who?” Kate said, closing the door behind her and kicking off her shoes.

“Never mind,” Will said.

“Congratulations, Marty,” Kate said, pointing at the bar. “Will, I’ve got to talk business for a minute. You want to go down to the double O?” They had a rule about not talking business in the family quarters.

“Oh, go ahead,” Will said.