Razor Sharp (16 page)

“I didn’t dump him. He dumped me, Lizzie. I was crushed. I actually thought about withdrawing from the race, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You have no idea how much I loved that man, Lizzie. I was like a lovesick puppy where he was concerned. When my people came to me to put him on the short list, I wanted to die. I really did. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to pretend it was all my idea? I never thought he would accept, but he did. I haven’t had a personal conversation with him since the night he told me we needed to go our separate ways because he didn’t want to live in a fishbowl. To my credit, Lizzie, I didn’t cry, I didn’t scold, and I didn’t beg. I held up my damn head and walked away.”

As she talked, Martine Connor opened her shawl and handed Lizzie two sheets of White House stationery and another folded piece of paper with cell phone numbers and e-mail addresses. Lizzie deftly slid them under her coat.

“There are two pieces in case you make a mistake, and I don’t want to know what you’re going to do with them. We should go back, it’s cold out here. Just tell me one thing, are the Vigilantes going to help me or not?”

“They are. You can sleep easy tonight, Madam President. But, that means you are now two for two. Do we understand each other?”

“We do, Lizzie. But you’re wrong about my sleeping. Was that really Hunter’s plan?” Lizzie’s silence confirmed all the president needed to know.

Martine Connor stopped and turned to face Lizzie. The wind picked up, with hard little gusts that were like clenched fists beating at them. The thin sliver of the moon seemed to wink at them before the dark cloud cover sailed across the dark sky.

“You’re a good friend, Lizzie. I’m sorry about being so…pushy with you. Listen, let me make it up to you. Can I host a luncheon or shower for you here at the White House? It would make a wonderful memory, and you deserve it. Don’t give me an answer right now, talk it over with your husband and let me know.”

“Talk it over with your husband.”
How wonderful the words sounded. “I’ll do that, Madam President. You okay with all I’ve told you?” Lizzie jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat just as her cell vibrated. She withdrew it and stared down at the text Annie had just sent her. She looked up at the president, and said, “I need to do something, Madam President. Like first thing in the morning. I can arrange for the
Post
to report it the minute I get in my car, but you have to okay it. Now, listen carefully.”

The president listened intently. “No, I’m not okay with it, but, I’ll survive. Uh…thank the…girls for me.” She slowly nodded. “I’ll follow your orders, and you do what you have to do. I’m not even going to ask any questions, Lizzie.”

The two women hugged each other. Martine whispered something in Lizzie’s ear, but with the gusty wind, Lizzie didn’t know what she’d said. A moment later the president of the United States walked through the French doors. Lizzie waved. She thought she saw tears rolling down her friend’s cheeks before she disappeared from sight.

“This way, miss,” the agent said as he walked Lizzie to the West Wing gate, then to her car. “Have a nice evening, ma’am.”

“Yes, I will. You, too. Take good care of her, Agent Roberts. She’s a wonderful person.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

I
t was almost midnight, the witching hour, as Annie put it, when they had wrapped up their last meeting of the day. Tidy to the point of obsessiveness, Annie insisted the work area be cleared and all reports and files stacked neatly for the next round of decision making the following morning.

Myra fiddled with her pearls as she fixed her gaze on Annie. “Thailand, Annie?”

Annie stopped what she was doing, and said, “Myra, you need to broaden your horizons and step outside the box. But, to answer your question, yes, Thailand.”

“Broaden my horizons? Is that what you said? Do I have to remind you that you were sitting on top of that damn mountain wearing a caftan and watching the Weather Channel for
ten years
before I brought you here?”

Whoa. The girls stepped back and watched the two older women as they went at it. They loved it when the two of them argued, then hugged and made up.

“How could I forget? You remind me every day of my life. I love you for doing it. I thank you for doing it. You told me I needed to get a life, and I did. I think it’s time
YOU
got a life. You’re no fun anymore, Myra. No fun at all.”

Myra drew in her breath, then let it out in a long, hissing sound. “I think I’m a little too old to be having fun. So are you, my friend.”

Annie sniffed. “You’re never too old to have fun. Never, ever. One needs to laugh either at something or at oneself. I bet if I tickled you, you wouldn’t even laugh. That means you’re a stiff, Myra. And you need to get rid of those damn pearls that you think of as your lifeline. You need some colored beads to ward off evil spirits, and I know just where to get them—eBay!” she said triumphantly. “They’re featuring chains with circles on them. Joan Rivers has a lovely selection. I saw it on the Shopper’s Channel. They’re cheaper on eBay, though. And they have matching earrings. They were really lovely.”

“All of a sudden you’re an authority on everything including me?”

“Well, someone has to be. All you do is poop on everyone’s parade. I was thinking of getting an eye lift if Mr. Snowden can find a way for me to get it done so I don’t get…uh, caught. We could probably get a discount if we both do it. What do you say, Myra? Or we could get our bums lifted. Maybe at the same time. They sag, you know. Our bums, that is. Well, our eyelids are drooping, too. Hell, everything droops. We could go in for a complete overhaul. You could certainly use a little slicing and dicing, Myra.”

Whoa.

The girls backed up another step as they listened and watched the verbal exchange going on between Myra and Annie.

Myra squared her shoulders, dropped her hands from worrying her pearls, and said sweetly, “And is this all because of someone named Little Fish?”

“Damn straight it is, Myra, but I’m also considering it for myself. I’m just glad I got to this place in time and still have my wits about me. What’s wrong with doing a little improving of one’s self? Nothing, that’s what. Now, are you with me or not?”

Myra looked like she was going to go for her pearls again but changed her mind at the last second. “I think I’d like to think about it before I make a commitment.”

“You rock, Myra, you really do. We owe it to ourselves to look the best we can. I don’t mind getting old, I just don’t want to
look
old.”

Myra nodded as if she completely understood. “Order me some of those chains, Annie. I’m suddenly thinking pearls are passé these days, order some for yourself and the girls. My treat. Are they gold or silver?”

“Either/or. Why don’t we get one of each?”

“Good thinking,” Myra said. “By the way, give me that report on Thailand so I can read it before I fall asleep.”

One of the girls sighed. So loud that both Myra and Annie asked, “What?”

“Not a thing,” Yoko said as she gathered up her own files and folders.

Annie was smiling and waving her arms about. “Breakfast at seven. We reconvene here in the war room at eight thirty to wind up our details.”

They all said good night and went their separate ways. Annie walked over to the dining hall and readied the coffeemaker for the morning. She reached into a bin and brought out a bag of oranges she was going to put through the juicer for fresh juice. She turned when she saw Myra standing in the doorway. “I thought you were tired and wanted to go to bed.”

Myra perched on one of the stools, the one Charles usually sat on. “I guess I am a…stiff. I envy you, Annie, you just roll along and take it as it comes. I wish I could be more like you.”

Annie sliced into an orange. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Myra wasn’t wearing her pearls.

“Myra, did you ever think maybe for just a minute or two that I am trying to catch up on the ten years I lost on that mountain? I think that’s what I’m doing. I have so many regrets, my friend. I know you do, too. We can’t live in the past, we tried that, and it didn’t work. Too many people need our help. We have the funds to help those people, so we should feel good about that. I’m so glad you and Charles came to the mountain that day and saved me. I truly, truly am. Now I have to give back for my good fortune. Tell me you understand.”

“I do, Annie, I do. Maybe we should get our ears pierced to see how we handle that before we decide to get all that slicing and dicing. Two holes in each ear. That’s so dramatic.”

Annie burst out laughing. “Baby steps? That will work, Myra. As long as you’re sitting there, you might as well help slice these oranges.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Myra said, reaching for the knife.

The juice machine whirred to life. The moment it stopped, Annie turned to Myra, and said, “I wasn’t serious about the slicing and dicing.”

Myra laughed. “I know that, Annie.”

Annie huffed and puffed. “How did you know?”

“Because at our age
a little
slicing and dicing won’t work. I’m all for the ear piercing, though. Another thing, do you really think for one minute that Little Fish is worrying about not looking like George Clooney?” Myra laughed so hard she almost sliced two fingers off.

Annie held up her hand. “How do you feel about doing something outrageous?”

Myra whacked through an orange. “How outrageous?”

“As long as we’re getting our ears pierced, let’s take it a step further and get our belly buttons pierced. We could get a really big diamond. Or we could get one of those belly chains with a diamond in the middle. A chastity belt. Kind of. Sort of. What do you think, Myra?” Annie asked fretfully.

Myra whacked another orange. “How long have you been thinking about this, Annie?”

“Five minutes.”

“Hmmm, five minutes? Okay, let’s do it. Do you think it will hurt?”

“How the hell would I know that? It’s the price we’ll have to pay. Three carats at the very least. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely. I’m kind of excited. You’re right, it is outrageous. I never thought I would do something so…so…decadent.”

The juicer whirred again. “See, Myra, we’re having fun. Now we have something to look forward to. Piercings! Who knew?” Annie cackled gleefully. “Wait a minute. How about if we go for something really out of the box, over the top, totally, totally outrageous?”

Myra looked dubious, but at the gleeful look in Annie’s eyes, she said, “Hit me.”

Annie whispered in her ear.

Myra’s jaw dropped and her eyes popped. “Oh, Annie!”

“Come on, Myra, you only go this way once, we have to make the most of it. I already went online to check it out.”

Myra now looked beyond dubious. “Where…where…will we put it?”

“On our asses, where else? We don’t want anyone to see it, so where else could we put it?”

Myra’s voice rose in pitch as she said, “A tattoo seems so…tacky.”

“That depends on one’s point of view. Think of it as making a statement. Listen, Myra, this is all about us. Are you ready to step out of the box?”

“What kind of statement will we be making if it’s on our asses?”

“We answer to no one, Myra. I think I’ll get the scales of justice. What will you get?”

“A flower, a heart, maybe a rose?”

Annie ignored her friend’s jittery-sounding voice.

“That’s so last year, Myra. Go big! Remember, we’re being outrageous. How about a smoking gun?”

“Dear God! Do I have to make a decision right now?”

“No, dear, not right now. For now it’s enough that you committed to doing it. I’m so proud of you, Myra.”

Myra looked around the kitchen. She squared her shoulders and decided at that precise moment she was proud of herself, too.

Neither of them noticed Nikki loitering just outside the door to the kitchen.

“Now that we’re on a roll, how about if we order those chains?”

Annie covered the pitcher of orange juice and set it in the refrigerator while Myra cleaned off the counter. Annie washed the juicer and Myra dried it.

“We’re a team, Myra,” Annie said, linking her arm with Myra. “Let’s take on eBay. We might be able to give Nellie a run for her money. She’s addicted to the Shopper’s Channel. We can hit their Web site while we’re at it. Isn’t the Internet a wonderful thing? You can shop in the middle of the night in your jammies if you want. Life is just so good, isn’t it, Myra?”

“It is, Annie, it is.”

Jack Emery woke with a pounding headache. He looked toward the window and saw that it was going to be another gray day, with rain that wasn’t needed. As he walked sluggishly toward the shower, he wished he hadn’t eaten the rack of spareribs Harry had fixed last night. He’d eaten more than Maggie, something he didn’t think was possible.

He gulped down a handful of aspirin before he stepped into the shower. He thought his head was going to explode right off his neck when the steaming hot water hit him. He danced around under the spray when he turned the nozzle to
COLD.
He cursed a whole new language before he turned it back to the
HOT
setting.

Ten minutes later he was shaved and dressed when his doorbell rang. He galloped down the steps. He peered through the peephole to see Maggie standing on his doorstep.

“What?” he growled. “You just left here a few hours ago. You better not be trying to bond with me this early in the morning. What?” he growled again. “There are no more spareribs. You took the leftovers.”

“Well, aren’t you the little bucket of sunshine this morning? I’ll settle for a cup of coffee. I brought the morning paper for your perusal.”

“I have a really bad headache, Maggie. What’s it say?” Jack filled the coffeepot with water from the tap, then added the coffee grounds. He got a container of half-and-half out of the refrigerator and set it in the center of the table along with a small bowlful of sugar cubes and sweeteners. “Well, what does the paper say?”

“It says that POTUS, or the President of the United States, has invited Main Street America to a dinner at the White House. POTUS invited eleven families from the Kalorama area. One whole street. The street where Karl Woodley, the ex–national security advisor, and his wife, Paula, used to live.”

“And you think I need to know this…why? Of all places, why that one? The girls were almost caught out there not too long ago.” Jack massaged his temples, which were still pounding like a jackhammer. He felt like banging his head against the wall to drive away the pain, but if he did that, he’d probably crack his skull.

“Because, Jack, that’s where the action is going to go down. No one would ever think they’d go back to the scene of an old crime. They’d think the Vigilantes are too smart to do something like that. It was the girls’ idea. Lizzie set it up with POTUS and it’s on. I reported it for the reading public and, at the same time, did a bit of a recap, reminding that same reading public that POTUS’s advisors and the DNC pushed to have Hunter Pryce put on the ticket. I also reminded the reading public that POTUS wanted Chandler Maddox as her running mate, not Hunter Pryce, because she didn’t want the voters to think she was picking Pryce because of their prior romantic relationship. The DNC somehow convinced her to go with Pryce. That’s why I kept running those editorials every day reminding everyone that she really wanted Chandler Maddox. I even ran an in-depth interview Ted did with Maddox. Trust me, we got our licks in. The purpose of this morning’s edition is so when the dark stuff hits the fan, it won’t splatter in Connor’s direction. We have to keep her on our side, Jack, so she gives the girls the pardon she promised. She’s two for two now. Are you getting it now?”

Jack mumbled something that sounded like
yes
. “What’s the plan?” he asked as he poured coffee into two bright-red mugs. One of the mugs said “Jack” and one said “Nikki” in fancy white script with tiny snowflakes all over the mugs, a gift to Jack one Christmas from Nellie Easter.

“I’m waiting to hear. At the moment there are a lot of loose ends that have to be tied up. Lizzie is working on it, and so is Bert. The girls are doing what they do best, planning and plotting. I’d really like to stay and chat, but I want to get to the office to see how this front page is going to play out. You should put a vinegar rag on your forehead, and it will make your headache go away.”

Jack just gawked at her.

“It’s an old-timey remedy, but it kind of works. Of course, you’ll smell like vinegar, but what the heck, your headache will be gone.”

“Go, already, and leave me to my misery,” Jack bellowed.

When the door closed behind Maggie, Jack rummaged in the pantry to see if he had any vinegar. He didn’t. He felt relieved when he gathered up his briefcase and keys.

Standing on the doorstep with no umbrella, Jack cursed again in the new language he’d come up with in the shower. “Screw it,” he muttered as he ran to his car, which was parked a block away.

Just as he settled himself in the car his cell phone rang. Nikki. Suddenly he felt like singing.
Singing in the rain, would that be too clichéd or what?
he thought.