President's Girlfriend 06 - The Sins of the Fathers (17 page)

“Then what
makes you so certain, sir?”

“I’m certain
that I would know if I had a son out there,” he said.

“You didn’t
know you had a daughter out there for twenty-three years, sir,” the reporter
pointed out.
 
“And Mrs. Rosenthal’s child
is only eight months old.”

Dutch was
confounded.
 
Eight months old?
 
What the fuck?

“Did you
cheat on your wife with Elvelyn Rosenthal, sir?” yet another reporter chimed
in.

“No,” Dutch
chimed back.

“Are you
certain, sir?”

“It’s
something that I would know, yes.
 
I’m
certain.”

“Will you
take a DNA test, sir?”

“No, I will
not,” Dutch said to murmurings from the press.
 
“I do not have an eight month of child.
 
That is a fact.”

“Then why
would Stephanie Mitchell suggest that you do?
 
Why did she suggest we ask you about her deceased sister’s child?”

“You’ll have
to ask her those questions,” Dutch said.
 
“Now are there any additional questions on the Helsinki Summit?”
 
Although that Summit was a disaster too, it
was far more appealing a topic than this minefield that he felt had just
ambushed him.

“So you’re
telling us, sir,” the reporter from Reuters said, “that you’ve never cheated on
the First Lady, not one time during your entire marriage?”

“Have a nice
day, guys,” Dutch said, refusing to continue this madness.
 

But the
questions about Stephanie Mitchell’s allegations and Elvelyn Rosenthal’s child
and Dutch’s alleged adultery were still flying, fast and furious, as he hurried
away from the podium, and out of the East Room.

He burst
through the doors so angrily and swiftly that his staffers could not keep
up.
 
He believed in preparation, that was
always his calling card at these pressers, but even he wasn’t prepared for
this.
 
Who the hell was Stephanie
Mitchell, he wondered, and what was all of this talk about some
got
damn eight month old child?
 
Only one man, he had a sneaking suspicion,
could answer that question.

He made his
way down the West Wing corridors toward that man’s office: the Office of the
Vice President.
 
Staffers
who were caught in the halls, not expecting to see the president in all of his
fury, squeezed their backs against the walls as he stormed past.
  
Crader was hurrying out of his office,
putting on his suit coat, having just seen the press conference on television
himself, before Dutch and his entourage made it anywhere near his suite.
 

When Dutch
saw him in the hall, he stopped his progression.
 
“In my office now!” he bellowed, and then
made a beeline for the Oval.
 

Crader’s
heart was ramming against his chest as he made it down the hall, hurrying
behind the president.
 

When they
made it into the Oval, all of the aides knew not to follow.
 
This was private, Dutch’s actions made clear,
as he slammed the door shut.

And they,
Dutch and Crader, were alone.

To calm
himself back down, Dutch walked slowly behind his desk and then sat down.
 
He leaned back, his body slightly slouched,
his fingers dabbing his lips as he stared at his vice president.
 
Crader paced the floor, looking troubled and
distressed, and made his way behind the desk too.
 
He leaned against the desk, standing beside
Dutch’s chair.

He
exhaled.
 
“After Vegas,” he began, “I
continued to see Elvelyn.”

Dutch
continued to stare at Crader.
 
He was one
of the strongest, most courageous men Dutch knew.
 
But when it came to women. . .

“We would
meet up a couple times a year,” Crader continued.
 
“We’d have dinner.”
 
He moved his butt slightly.
 
“Have sex,” he added.
 
“Then we lost contact for years.
 
Nearly six, seven years.
 
Until last year.”

Crader slid
his butt around again, as if his discomfort was increasing.
 
“I was in Florida, at a dinner party with
some friends, and Elv was there.”
 
He
paused.
 
“We hooked up that night and . .
. spent the night.
 
Then I hear from her
a couple
months
later saying she was pregnant.”

Dutch stared
at Crader.

“Since she
had just gotten married,” Crader went on, “she knew she had to pawn the kid off
as her husband’s.
 
But she believed the
kid was mine.”

Crader ran
his hand through his hair.
 
“I didn’t
know if she was blowing smoke up my ass or not, Dutch, that’s why I never
mentioned it.
 
We didn’t take any DNA
test.
 
I mean, yes, she came to me
claiming it was my kid, but nothing was confirmed.”

Dutch,
however, didn’t see the point of his contention.
 
“Why would she claim it was yours unless she
absolutely was convinced the baby was yours?
 
All she had to do was pretend it was
her husband’s and
keep
you out of it, if she wasn’t certain it was yours.”

“I know,”
Crader said.
 
“That’s the thing.
 
But she didn’t want anything from me.
 
She said I had a right to know, that’s why
she told me.
 
But she said she was going
to tell her husband that the kid was his, and it would never be
questioned.
 
Why would it be?
 
As far as everybody
were
concerned, the child was Elv’s husband.
 
I mean, who would know any differently?”

Dutch looked
at Crader.
 
“You would know the
difference.
 
You, the
father.”

“
If
I’m the father, Dutch.”

“That’s easy
to determine.”

“And I will
determine it.
 
I’m not trying to shirk my
responsibilities.
 
I’m just. . .
That poor child.
 
It’s
just all so hard to digest.”

“Why didn’t
you tell me about this, Cray?” Dutch asked, genuinely disappointed.
 

“I thought
this whole thing was about that Vegas weekend, that’s why I didn’t say
anything.”

“You were
hoping
it was about that Vegas
weekend.
 
Because compared to this shit
you’re telling me about right now, that Vegas weekend, even if it was recorded,
was a piece of cake.”
 
Dutch
frowned.
 
“A child’s involved.”

Crader knew
he told the truth.
 
He could say no more.

Dutch
pinched the bridge of his nose.
 
“What
was the timeline?” he asked.
 
“And you’d
better not tell me you were engaged to marry Loretta when you had unprotected
sex with that woman. Please don’t tell me that, Cray.”
 
Crader said nothing, which astounded
Dutch.
 
“So it’s true?” Dutch asked.
 
“You were engaged to Loretta when you
impregnated Elvelyn?”

“It wasn’t
planned, Dutch.”

“What the
hell’s difference does that make?!”
  
Dutch roared.
 
“Of course it
wasn’t planned!
 
Is that supposed to make
it a little less fucked up by claiming it wasn’t planned?!”

Dutch stood
up angrily and walked to the window.
 
He
could throttle Crader he was so angry.

“I’m not
making excuses,” Crader said.
 
“I messed
up.
 
I know I messed up.
 
You don’t have to keep telling me that.
 
You can’t say anything to me that I haven’t
already said to myself.”

Dutch turned
toward him.
 
“Did you think about Loretta
for even a second while you were fucking that woman?”

Crader ran
his fingers through his hair.
 
He
frowned.
 
“Of course I did.
 
What do you take me for?”

“A damn fool
and a cheating dog,” Dutch said bluntly.
 
“That’s what!”

This stunned
Crader.
 
He fought back tears.

Dutch,
however, had no sympathy.
 
He gave
Loretta away to this jackass.
 
He had
that long, drawn-out conversation with him about doing the right thing and
keeping it in his pants, when even before they walked down the aisle he’d
already fucked up.
 
And the thought of it
just angered Dutch more.
 

“
Got
dammit, Crader,” he said,
disappointment in his voice.
 
“What were
you thinking?
 
How
could you do that to her again?”

“It just
happened, Dutch, all right?
 
It wasn’t
like I went out looking for cunt!
 
Me
and Elv were through.
 
I hadn’t seen that woman in years.
 
When we met up again we were just remembering old times.
 
She was married for crying out loud!”

“And you
were engaged!” Dutch thundered.
 
He was
so angry with Crader he wasn’t sure if he could contain it.

“Yes, I was
engaged, yes, that’s true.
 
But. . .”

Dutch
frowned.
 
“But what?”
 
How, he wondered, could there be
a
but
?

“But she was
there, all right?” Crader admitted.
 
“I
was engaged to LaLa, I was happy, I was trying to do the right thing.
 
When I met up with Elv at that party it
wasn’t like you think.
 
We talked,
enjoyed each other’s company.
 
But then
one thing led to another thing and dammit, Dutch, what was I supposed to do?”

“Keep that
fucking dick in your fucking pants!” Dutch said.
 
Then he calmed back down.
 
They both calmed back down.

“Where’s the
baby now?” Dutch asked.

Mention of
the baby brought a new sense of dread to Crader.
 
“With Elv’s sister from what I could find
out.”

“This Stephanie Mitchell?”

“Right.”

“Why would
she think her sister’s child could be mine?”

Crader shook
his head.
 
“I didn’t think she knew
anything about it.
 
Apparently Elv had
confided in her.
 
Not just about me, but
about that Vegas weekend with you, too.
 
Maybe the sister confused the two.”

Dutch shook his
head.
 
All he needed.
 
He ran his hand across his face.
 
“And Loretta knows nothing about this baby?”

“Of course
she doesn’t know!” Crader snapped.
 
“I
can’t just tell her something like this. Besides, I don’t even know if the kid
is mine yet.”

Dutch shook
his head.
 
“How could you do this to your
wife, man?”

Crader
almost said she wasn’t his wife yet, but even he knew how lame that would
sound.
 
“I told you being totally
committed to one person wasn’t going to be easy for me,” he said, sounding
lamer still.
 
“I told you that.
 
I’m not like you, Dutch.”

“You’re not
like me?” Dutch
asked,
a frown on his face.
 
“Don’t you dare try to pretend that being
faithful to the woman you love is some unobtainable goal that only the perfect
man can achieve.
 
Because
you know what?
 
There are no
perfect men.
 
I’m tempted every damn day,
Cray.
 
You know I am.
 
But I don’t run around fucking all these
skirts that wanna fuck me!
 
I can’t do
that to Gina.
 
At some point it has to be
about your wife, and not just you.
 
What about Loretta?!”
Dutch screamed.

“What about
her?” Gina asked as she entered the Oval office unannounced.
 
Both Dutch and Crader looked at each
other.
 
And Gina looked at Dutch.