THE PRESIDENT'S GIRLFRIEND (17 page)

Max Brennan sat on the sofa in the residence and tried his best to get Dutch to listen to reason.  But Dutch, who sat in the chair flanking the sofa, had heard it all already.

     “But we don’t need this fight, Dutch,” Max insisted.  “Vetoing an appropriations bill when we’re trying to get our health care law through is ridiculous.  You know how Washington works.  It’ll be weeks of partisan bickering before we can get anything done.”

     “That bill was loaded with pork and you know it, and devastating for poor people who rely on social programs.  I’ll sign it, when they clean that shit up.”      
     Dutch stood to his feet, causing Max to stand, too.  “You’ve got to trust me on this one, Max.  If I buckle and allow myself to become like them, then the American people are going to start asking themselves why did they vote for me if I’m no different than the other guy.”

     Max put both hands in the pockets of his wrinkled suit.  “Okay, I trust your political instincts.  They’ve served us well in the past.  But. . .”  He was looking toward the corridor that led to the bedrooms.  Dutch looked too and saw Gina standing there.

     “I didn’t realize you had company,” she said, looking more at Max, who seemed mortified, than Dutch.

     “Come on in,” Dutch said, glancing at Max too.

     Gina was dressed, in an airy summer print dress with matching slip-on sandals, and had one of those big, Fall hats in her hands.  She had expected to be taken to a hotel late last night, only to end up in bed with Dutch and awaken to find her luggage in his room.  Dutch was casually dressed, in a pair of Khaki pants, a pullover knit shirt, and desert boots, and Gina smiled when he took her by the hand. 

     “Max, you remember Gina, don’t you?”

     Max had the look of a man who couldn’t believe his bad luck.  He stared at Gina.  “Gina?” he said.

     “Yes,” Dutch said.  “Regina Lansing.  She was one of the recipients of the Mountain Movers award.”

     “I know what she received,” Max said.  “And I also know what she dished out.  Especially the part about how disappointed she was in your administration.  Which begs the question: what the hell is she doing here?”

     Dutch and Max grew up together, as their fathers were best friends, and Dutch allowed his friend a lot of liberties with him.  But he was coming very close to crossing the line.  “She spent the night with me,” Dutch said, as if daring his friend to object.  “That’s what she’s doing here.”

     Max was still astounded by this revelation, but knew not to pursue it.  Dutch moved on too, placing his hands on Gina’s shoulders and turning her towards him.  “I’ve got some meetings this morning,” he said.

     “Even on a Saturday?”

     “Even on Saturdays, yes.  But I should wrap up around two.  Christian will be here shortly to take you around, show you the town, all right?”

     Gina felt a little flustered, as if she’d ceded control to someone else, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it.  Dutch saw her apprehension.

     “It’s all right,” he said.  Then he reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed her a credit card.  “Here’s my card,” he said.  “Go shopping, go to the spa, pamper yourself a little.   Chris will have you back here just in time for me to take you to the Wizards game.  You do like basketball, don’t you?”

     Gina stared at the card and then up at Dutch.  “Yes,” Gina said, “but. . . ”

     “But what?”

     “This is a credit card with your name on it.”

     “So?”

     “So you’re the President of the United States.  I can’t walk into some store somewhere and expect them to let me use your card.  They’ll have me under the jail!”

     Dutch laughed.  “I guess you have a point.  Max, give me one of your cards.”

     “No!” Gina said.  No way was she taking any card of his, she wanted to add.  “I can pay my own way.”

     “Sure?”

     “Positive.”

     Dutch nodded.  “Okay.”  Kissed her on her forehead.  “I’d better run.  See you this afternoon,” he said as he began to leave, with Max following behind him.  “Chris is on his way,” he added, glancing back as he walked.  He loved the way that bright, floral print brought out the beauty of her smooth black skin.  Just lovely, he thought to himself as he left.

     Gina took a seat on the sofa and tried to feel as good as Dutch seemed to think she looked.  But she kept feeling as if things were moving too fast for her.  In fact, it wasn’t until Dutch and Max had left did she realize that she still had his card in her hand.

+++

LaLa,
Demps
, and Frank sat at their usual table in
Cribb’s
playing cards and drinking beer.  It was their usual Saturday afternoon get together and Frank was disappointed to see that one of their foursome, specifically Gina, wasn’t there.

     “Where is she?” he asked LaLa when he returned from the bar with his glass of beer and sat across from her and
Demps
.

     “There,” LaLa said, pointing to the TV nearest them, the TV that was turned to the NBA network telecasting the Wizards game.

     Frank looked at the TV.  “Where?” he asked.  “At that Washington Wizards game?”

     “Yup.  I called her but she couldn’t talk, said she was on her way to the game.”

     Frank looked disturbed.  “I didn’t know she was in DC,” he said.

     LaLa and Dempsey exchanged a glance.  “Yeah, she got there Friday night.”

     “On business?”

     “You can say that, yes,” LaLa said.

     “The President is in the house,” one of the three TV commentators said and both LaLa and Dempsey, knowing that Gina had gone to DC on the president’s invitation and would most likely be attending the Wizards game with him, immediately looked up at the TV.  Frank, completely in the dark, followed their suddenly interested eyes and looked up, too.

     “President Harber is in the house,” the commentator continued as the camera searched the crowd.  “Ah, there he is, making his way to his usual seat on the front row.”

     And sure enough, LaLa, Dempsey and an astonished Frank looked on as the cameras captured Dutch, his hand on the small of Gina’s back, as they were escorted to front row seats.

     “Who’s that lady with the president?” another one of the commentators wanted to know.

     “Pretty lady,” the first one commented.  “Well-endowed,” he joked.

     “She’s a new one,” still the third one said.  ‘”Who’s that lady?”

     “
Gina
?” Frank said, not in answering their question, but in questioning his own, astounded eyes.

ELEVEN

The door to Max’s West Wing office flew open and Allison Shearer, the president’s press secretary, hurried in, slammed the door shut, and then walked up to the desk and slung a newspaper onto it.  Max, who was on the phone, told the party he’d call them back, and hung up.

     “What’s this?” he asked.  Then picked up the paper.

     “You see that headline?” Allison asked.  ‘”Who’s that Lady,’” it says.  And there’s a picture of the president with some . . . person.”  Allison frowned.  “According to that article, she’s the woman who told him off at that awards ceremony.”

     Max was still reading the article.  “One in the same.”  Then he tossed the paper aside.  “This is crap.  A slow news day.  Don’t worry about it.”

     Allison picked up the paper again.  “She wore an off the rack, excruciatingly loud print dress, flip flops, and a big flop hat.”

     “She did not wear flip flops.”

     “You get their point.”  Then Allison kept reading.  “’She’s a big-busted lady with more than her share of curves.’”

     Max grinned.  “They said that?”

     “This can get ugly fast, Max,” Allison said.  “I fail to see the humor.”

     The door was opened and yet another aide entered carrying a newspaper.  She, too, tossed it onto Max’s desk.  “Did you guys see this?” she asked.

     Allison grabbed it and read the headline aloud.:  “’President attends Wizards’ game with woman who gave him the finger.’” She put the paper back on Max’s desk.  “How nice,” she said sarcastically.  “Such lovely people to write such beautiful words.”

     “There’s more,” the aide said.  “All over the internet they’re joking that the president has found himself a
HipHop
Queen, and that there’s a hood rat in the White House.  And then there’s another headline: ‘The President and his Lady.  A Step down from Kate?’”

     “It never fails,” Allison said.  “Every time he dates a new woman they dredge up Kate
Marris
. 

     Max’s door flew open again and this time Christian entered.  “No newspaper,” Max asked him.  “You’re slipping, Chris.”

     Christian stood before Max’s desk, but couldn’t seem to want to begin.  They all stared at him.  “What?” Max asked impatiently.

     Christian swallowed hard.  “Director Munford’s office says he’s on his way to see you, sir.”

     “What about?”