THE PRESIDENT'S GIRLFRIEND (20 page)

     And not one of them, in the BBR office, nor Dutch and Gina at the White House, had any inkling that the worst was yet to come.  And this little episode about some socialism party, about some arrest that really wasn’t much of an arrest to begin with, would be like a pebble on a beach, like nothingness, compared to what was coming when new news broke, news they had no way of even anticipating, let alone countering with an adequate response.

THIRTEEN

The president slapped the ball across the table expecting Gina to flub it, but Gina was ready.  She slapped the ball across, whipping it just as hard as Dutch had, and the game was on.  They laughed as they played, their ping pong paddles turning the little-used White House game room into a loud, rip-roaring fun factory for a change.  Christian was there too, keeping score, although it was obvious that who won, or who lost, took a far second to enjoying the game.

     That enjoyment, however, was short-lived when Dutch got word that Max and Allison needed to see him. 

     Dutch grabbed a couple towels, threw one to Gina, and began to wipe his face.  They were both in shorts, t-shirts and tennis shoes.  Had been on the treadmill earlier and had planned to just relax all day.  It was Saturday, there was nothing on the president’s schedule, and he was determined to enjoy every minute of freedom he had with Gina.  And now this.

     “Chris you take my place,” he told Christian, handing him the paddle.  “And don’t you cut her any slack.”

     “Oh, no sir,” Christian said with a smile, enjoying the day himself, “she’s definitely a gamer.”

     Gina and Dutch laughed.  And although Dutch didn’t let on around Gina, he was concerned.  His chief of staff and press secretary disturbing him at the residence on a Saturday afternoon automatically meant that something that absolutely couldn’t wait was up.  And it wasn’t any world event that was up, or a cabinet secretary would have phoned him.  This, Dutch thought sadly as he made his way to the sitting room, was personal.

     Allison and Max stood to their feet when Dutch entered the room.  He sat in the chair flanking the sofa.  When Dutch was seated, both of them sat back on the sofa. 

     “Okay, give,” Dutch said as he crossed his legs.  “Why did the two of you feel a need to disturb me today?”

     “It’s vital, sir,” Max said.  “Or you know I wouldn’t be here.”

     “What is it?”

     Max looked at Allison.  Allison leaned forward.  “Sir, did you know that Miss Lansing has a brother?”

     “A  brother?”

     “Yes, sir.  A half brother by the name of Marcus
Rance
?”

     Dutch shook his head.  “No, she never mentioned such a person.”

     “They have the same father, sir.  Or had since their father is deceased.”

     “I take it there’s a problem with the brother?” he asked.

     Max shook his head.  “That’s the understatement of the century,” he said.

     Dutch braced himself.  “What is it?”

     Max was too drained by the news to speak of it.  He looked at Allison again.

     “The brother, Marcus
Rance
, is currently in prison, sir.”

     Dutch’s heart tightened.  “What for?”

     “Murdering a family,” Allison said, and Dutch’s heart dropped. 

     “He’s on death row, Dutch,” Max said. 

     Dutch leaned back.  “Dear God,” he said.  Then he looked at Max.  “What’s the story on this guy?”

     “Drug dealer.  And I mean major.  It was a drive-by shooting.  Didn’t care who he hit, just as long as he hit some punk who happened to be at the house for some Fourth of July celebration.   Both parents, three of their five children, and two other partygoers were killed.  The punk he was gunning for wasn’t even hit.”

     Dutch shook his head.  Thought about what the press would do to Gina with this one.         Max moved to the edge of his seat.  “Just as we’re about to get your reelection campaign cranked up into high gear, this pops up.  And once again, she’ll claim ignorance.  Are you sure she isn’t some plant for the opposition, Dutch?”

     “Cut that out, you understand me?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “Cut that the fuck out, do you hear me clearly, Max?”

     “Yes.  I apologize, sir.  But, Dutch, man, this is a problem.”

     “I know it’s a problem.  I don’t need you to tell me it’s a problem.”

     Dutch picked up the phone on the side table, pressed a button. 

     “Yes, sir?” Christian said on the other line.

     “Bring Miss Lansing to me.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     Dutch hung up.  When Gina and Christian arrived, they all stood up.  Dutch motioned for her to sit next to him.

     “Get lost, Chris,” Max said to Christian and Christian, after Dutch’s nod, left.

     “What’s the matter now?” Gina asked Dutch.  She was still in her shorts and t-shirt, still feeling the effects of a hearty workout.  But it didn’t take a genius to feel the tension in the room.

     “Marcus
Rance
,” Max said and all three of them looked at her.

     But Gina frowned.  “Who’s Marcus
Rance
?”

     “Oh, for crying out loud!” Max yelled.  “You expect us to believe that you never heard of your own brother?”

     “My brother?  I don’t have a brother!  And don’t you yell at me!”

     They all stared at Gina.  “You didn’t know that your father had a son?”

     There was a long pause.  “I mean, I knew--”

     “Oh, great,” Max said, and Allison rolled her eyes.

     Gina was so tired of these people making her out to be some idiot, when their obsession with the fringes of her life was the real idiocy.  She exhaled.  “I knew my father had a son out of wedlock, okay,  before he married my mother.  But he had no contact with that boy, far as I knew, and I didn’t even know his name, where he lived, or anything about him.  When I was fifteen and my parents died in a car accident, and I asked my aunt if she was going to try and find this boy of my father’s, she said my father had one child, me, and that was the end of that.  So, that was the end of that.”

     “Not quite,” Max said.  “Especially since your father was paying child support for many years to this non-existent brother of yours.”

     “Child support?” Dutch asked. 

     “Yes, sir,” Max said.  “And it’s DNA confirmed,” Max added.

     Dutch stood up and began to walk around the room. 

     “Have you ever met this man before, this Marcus
Rance
?” Allison asked Gina.

     “Please say never,” Max said.

     “Never.”

     “At least there’s that,” Allison said.

     “But, I assure you, Miss Lansing,” Max said, visibly agitated, “when the opposition gets a whole of this bit of information they will make it seem as if you and Mr. Marcus
Rance
are joined at the hip.  Siamese Twins, the two of you will be.  They will make it seem as though no sister could possibly mean more to a brother, and vice versa, than you and Marcus mean to each other.  In other words, they will excoriate you, my dear, when this gets out.”

     Dutch stood at the lunette window and stared at the activity going in and out of the Old Executive Office Building.  “Will it get out?” Dutch asked, still looking out of the window, his heart pounding, his soul pained at just the thought of the harsh judgments Gina could endure.

     “The story will break tomorrow,” Allison said.  “Somebody in Director Munford’s office has leaked it to The Post already.  The Post has asked for us to comment prior to going live.”

     “No comment.”

     “They want us to say something, sir,” Allison insisted, but Dutch interrupted her.

     “No comment,” he said, turning and looking at Allison.  “I don’t give a good gotdamn what they want or don’t want, I am not legitimizing this nonsense!  Regina didn’t even know this man existed until we told her, and now they want to act as if she was responsible for his behavior?  No.   No comment.  And I mean hell no.”

     The exhaustion on Allison’s face told her story.  Being a press secretary when your boss will not even allow you to speak to the press on a subject that was sure to explode all across the country in twenty-four hours, was a hard pill to swallow. 

     “What’s the story?”  Gina asked.  “What has this Marcus
Rance
done?”

     Max and Allison looked at Dutch.  Dutch walked back over to the sofa, reached out his hand to Gina.  When Gina stood, he grasped her.  “Marcus
Rance
is currently on death row for murdering six people.”

     Gina, stunned, nearly collapsed.  But Dutch held her up.  With tears in his eyes, he held her up.

+++

Max and Allison left the residence and headed downstairs, to their offices on the West Wing.  They walked as if they were in a funeral procession.  When they arrived at Max’s office, Max went behind his desk, picked up his telephone, and dialed a once very familiar number. 

     “We’re dead, you know that?” Allison said.

     “I know.”

     “Who are you calling?”

     “Kate
Marris
.”

     Allison stared at Max.  “The president’s ex?  Are you sure?”

     “What the hell else can we do?  You saw him?  He doesn’t even want us to comment.  He’s running for reelection, will be in the fight of his life, and he decides to date some sister-girl from the hood with more baggage than
Samsonite
!  You’d better believe I’m sure.”