THE PRESIDENT 2 Read online

  “Right, although nobody’s all-white, nobody’s all-black. Nothing’s black and white, cut and dry like that anymore. But it is in my mother’s mind. So she sees Caroline as all-white because she has to see her that way. And don’t misunderstand me, honey: Caroline was nowhere near her first choice for me. She would have chosen somebody as white as the driven snow if she could have. But she couldn’t. Because she only had two choices. She knew I’ve only wanted to marry two women in my entire life: you and Caroline. Those were her choices. You or Caroline. Caroline reentered the picture, so she cast her lot with Caro.”

  Gina shook her head. “What a narrow way to view human beings,” she said. “And you really believe your own mother could be that hateful and cruel?”

  “Yes,” Dutch said. “She’s that hateful and cruel. No doubt about it. I saw signs for years in the little comments she would make. But I just dismissed them. She was, at least I thought at that time, such a giving, caring woman. But when she met you, and I saw that hatred deep within her eyes, it couldn’t be dismissed any longer. I knew on that day, when we left Nantucket, that she was my enemy. She was my mother, but she was my enemy. But even I never dreamed she’d take it to this level.”

  “She wants to destroy you now.”

  “She wants to destroy me. And probably you too,” Dutch said, clutching his wife’s hand tightly. “So brace yourself for more.”

  “I’m braced, don’t worry,” Gina said, and then she hesitated, wondered if now was the right time, decided that, under the circumstances, there would never be a right time. She exhaled. “The odd thing is,” she said, “she had it all wrong.”

  Dutch looked at her. “My mother?”

  “Yep. She wanted to break up our marriage so that I wouldn’t conceive her grandchild,” Gina said and looked at Dutch. “When I already have.”

  Dutch stared at his wife. Stared with a look of happiness, horror, joy and fear. “Are you saying that. . . that you’re. . . that we’re pregnant, Gina? Are you saying that we’re pregnant?”

  Gina nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “I found out the day of the State Dinner. I had planned to tell you later that night.”

  “How far along?”

  “Five weeks.”

  Dutch stood up, Gina stood too, and they fell into each other’s arms, with Dutch’s eyes shut tight.

  For the longest time they just stood there, oblivious to the world and the harshness that now surrounded them. It was, for both of them, the happiest news they could have ever received. And, given the circumstances, given their life in this fishbowl, the saddest.

  Dutch pulled her back, his hands gripping her arms. “I’m so happy,” he said with a smile. But he kept looking at her, and his look was more painful than joyous

  “What is it?” Gina asked, already knowing the answer.

  “We have nearly four years left in office,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know. I was taking birth control religiously when we first got married. Then so many things started happening all at once that I just stopped thinking about it. I’m so sorry, Dutch.”

  “And I’m so happy,” Dutch said, managing to smile again despite his fears. “It’s what I want so badly, Gina. A child. Our child. That will be the most beautiful thing, to have a child by the woman I love.”

  “But we’ll have to raise our child in this place.”

  “Do we?” Dutch asked, his hands rubbing her arms, his stark green eyes flickering with so many possibilities that even he couldn’t keep track.

  Gina, however, couldn’t even entertain the thought. “We can’t quit, Dutch,” she said.

  A look so deflating came over Dutch that Gina wanted to cry. But then he nodded, because he knew she spoke the truth. “We will raise our child to be a wonderful citizen of the world,” he said. “And we’ll be wonderful parents.” They both smiled. “But we’ll do it our way. On our terms. No matter what.”

  Gina studied him. “Even if it means quitting?”

  “Even if it means quitting. I have a responsibility to this country, and I have done and will continue to do all I can to fulfill that responsibility. But my first obligation is to you, and to our child.”

  Gina looked at him, and he looked at her, and both assumed what the other was thinking, but neither had the nerve to confirm it.

  Because the world would take it the wrong way, and declare victory, and insist that they knew all along that a union like theirs could never take the heat. That a union like theirs would wither, would fall right off the vine, under the bright lens of scrutiny.

  But the bright lens of Dutch’s eyes saw it differently. Because this wasn’t about the world. This wasn’t about anybody scrutinizing anything about their relationship. This was about him and his wife. Their life. Their happiness. Their blessed child.

  And in those matters of the heart the world and all its charges, countercharges, sex, lies, and videotape, didn’t have a vote.

  EIGHTEEN

  The Washington press corps stood on the press pad on the southern end of the White House as the president and First Lady emerged from the portico. Looking comfortably attired in bright, casual clothing, the couple, hand in hand, made their way over to the pool of reporters anxiously waiting. The agreement was that one of them would ask all of the questions on behalf of the entire press pool, although they rarely kept to those agreements.

  “Where are you going, Mr. President?” Andrew Singer, the designated reporter, asked.

  “On vacation,” Dutch answered.

  “On vacation?” Singer asked as if he was stunned. “At a time like this?”

  “Best time of the year to go.”

  “But, sir, you’ve been accused of sexually assaulting three women. Your own mother has come out in favor of the women and against you. There are criminal investigations underway. There’s talk of Congress drafting articles of impeachment. And you’re going on vacation?”

  “Yes,” Dutch said.

  “But, sir, aren’t you going to at least proclaim your innocence?”

  “I’m innocent. There. I’ve proclaimed it.”

  “But that’s not enough, sir,” the reporter said.

  Dutch and Gina laughed. “Why am I not surprised?” he asked.

  “You two seem to be taking this very lightly, sir.”

  “Yes, we are. Aren’t we?”

  “But why?”

  “Why not?”

  The popular, but now frustrated reporter looked to his colleagues. Another reporter, Nora Tatem, took over.

  “Why don’t you proclaim your innocence, sir?” she said.

  “Asked and answered,” Dutch said.

  “Is it because you’re guilty?”

  “Is that what it is, Nora? Gosh. Thank-you for pointing that out to me.”

  “That’s what it appears to be.”

  “Appearances can be misleading.”

  “But why aren’t you fighting back if you’re so innocent?”

  “I am.”

  “You’re fighting back by going on vacation?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But where are you going, sir?” she asked as if her colleague hadn’t already asked it.

  “On vacation,” Dutch said again.

  “But you can’t just leave!”

  Dutch looked at Gina, his face unable to stop grinning, although she could see the pain in his eyes. The nerve of these people, he wanted to say. “Watch me,” he said instead, and he and his wife left the baffled press, walked up to the helipad, and boarded Marine One.

  By the time the helicopter arrived at Andrews Air Force Base and they were boarding Air Force One, the cable news shows, as they predicted, were rerunning snippets of the interview and were livid with what their commentators viewed as the president’s cavalier attitude.

  First, there was the commentator on MSNBC, who couldn’t get past the gaiety. “He should be pulling his hair out,” the commentator insisted, “but he’s laughing?”

  Then the CNN com
mentator: “The evidence is too compelling. That videotape is too damning. You’d laugh too, if you had no defense.”

  Then FOX: “Dutch Harber is a disgrace to the office of the presidency and to the entire human race! He should do all of us a favor and resign right now rather than take this country through a protracted impeachment trial. Especially since we all already know he’s guilty.”

  And the commentators on CNN and MSNBC agreed: the president is guilty as sin and should stop that grinning, and come out and confess.

  By the time Air Force One had taxied the runway, ready to lift up and fly the friendly skies, the commentators had turned their aim away from Dutch, and were now pointing it squarely at Gina.

  “She’ll leave him for certain now,” a tall, thin woman on MSNBC predicted. “Black women don’t put up with that mess.”

  “Oh, she’ll leave,” said an anchor on FOX. “No doubt about that. Her feminist bona fides won’t allow her to stay. Her independent, I am woman, superficial pride wouldn’t bear for her to be viewed as some stand by her man lovesick female.”

  And a talking head on CNN summed it up this way: “With that videotape, with that level of evidence, she’s definitely leaving,” he assured the public. “That marriage is over!”

  And Dutch and Gina sat back on Air Force One, still holding hands, still staring at that CNN commentator, a man they didn’t know and had never even met, confidently inform the American people of the demise of their marriage. And if it wasn’t so sad, they’d be rolling in the aisles with laughter.

  But it was sad. And therefore they just sat.

  ***

  Nathan Riles escorted Roman Wilkes into the morning room where Victoria Harber was waiting. As soon as she saw him, she smiled.

  “Hello there,” Victoria said.

  “Hello,” Roman said. She was wearing, he noticed, a very revealing peignoir, which looked ridiculous on her. But she was on top of the world right now. Was the woman who had brought a president to his knees. The fact that the president in question also happened to be her son seemed beside the point to her. She was flying high. She undoubtedly figured she could wear, and could have, Roman thought as he sat down beside her, anything and anyone she wanted.

  “I hear you’ve been a busy man.”

  “How so?”

  “I understand you’re all in, that you’ve informed your girlfriend that you will definitely defend her brother the murderer.”

  “Ex-girlfriend, and that’s right. I am officially defending Marcus Rance. Why, you want to contribute to his legal defense?”

  “Don’t be absurd! I have an image to uphold! You may not take yours seriously, but my image is above reproach.” Then she looked at him. “Do you have them?” she asked him.

  He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. Gave it to her.

  “Why are you giving them to me? Why haven’t I seen them on the news yet? The timing would be impeccable.”

  “Kick’em while they’re down, something like that?” Roman asked.

  “Exactly like that,” Victoria said. “And I’m enjoying every minute of it. You can always count on the press to take whatever red meat you throw their way and chew it up until it’s only worth spitting out.”

  “I thought you’d like to see the goods first,” Roman said. “To make sure they live up to your standards so there’ll be no issues with me getting the second half of my pay.”

  “Are they suggestive?” Victoria asked as she began to peel open the envelope. “Do they show you and that Regina woman hugging and kissing as if she’s turned the nation’s White House into her own crack house for sexual deviants?”

  “Hugging and kissing my ass,” Roman said. “The brother is making love in those photographs.” Roman said this as Victoria, now excited, pulled out the photographs. “And he’s making love to you,” he then added.

  Victoria rose from her seat with the agility of a woman half her age as soon as she saw, not a photo of a naked Roman Wilkes making love to a naked Regina Lansing, but a naked Nathan Riles making love to his long-time employer, and lover, Victoria Harber.

  “Yeah,” Roman said with laughter. “I thought that would get a rise out of you.”

  Victoria’s mouth flew open as she flipped through photograph after photograph, sexual encounter after sexual encounter. She looked up at Roman, stupefied, and then back at the photos, as if she had been mistaken, as if she couldn’t possibly be seeing what she was seeing.

  “But how could you know,” she started. She and Nathan never shared their relationship with anyone, not ever! It was forbidden for him to so much as mention her name out of the context of his job!

  She looked at Roman again. “Where did you get these?” she demanded to know.

  “That’s my business. But this is what’s going to happen,” Roman said, his face now serious, unrepentant. “You and your three musketeers will go back on television, admit that all y’all lied through y’all teeth, and beg the president’s forgiveness. Period. If that doesn’t happen, if you can’t get those ladies to recant, I will whip out the photographs and show for all the world to see you, Victoria Harber, that great bastion of rich, white propriety, fucking the help.”

  Victoria stumbled back, and then sat down.

  Roman stared at her. “How’s that for upholding that above reproach image of yours?” he asked.

  She was still too stunned to speak.

  “I mean, who knows?” he went on. “Those old racist biddies that you run with might understand. They might, in fact, be doing the same thing themselves. But then again, hypocrisy is a bitch, isn’t it? It never wants to admit its own failings. Nope, with this kind of proof you’ll be castigated, lady. Ostracized. Eliminated from every sewing circle, every country club you’re a member of. You’ll be all on your own.”

  Victoria was speechless. For the first time in her life she was speechless.

  “Those photos will always be my trump card,” Roman continued. “And if anything happens to me, and it’s some funny-bunny stuff going on with the way I kick the bucket, they will become public. So you see, Mrs. Harber, you’re screwed no matter who you fuck.”

  Victoria closed her eyes, disgusted by his terminology.

  Roman, however, couldn’t care less about her disgust. He kept pounding. “But if you don’t want to spend the rest of your days alone, isolated and ostracized, not to mention laughed at for the sheer magnitude of your hypocrisy, then you had better get those recantations. Because unlike you and that little three-ring circus you displayed, I know how to put on a show. And it’ll be compared to the greatest show on earth when I leave that stage.” Then Roman smiled. “We understand each other. Don’t we?”

  But she didn’t. She just couldn’t understand any of it. “But I paid you to get with Regina,” she said. “I promised you another half million dollars if you delivered took photographs of you and her. But instead you seek to embarrass me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But why?” Victoria asked, confused to a point that bordered on panic.

  “For one thing,” Roman said, “I have a conscience. Unlike you, Mrs. Harber, I care which end of that horizontal line I spend eternity. And for another thing, I happen to be eternally fond of the very woman you hate. Because I love Regina Lansing. She’s my girl and always will be. And I get really annoyed when somebody tries to hurt her. I get super annoyed by that. And because Dutch Harber is her man now, and she obviously loves the man, I get equally perturbed when people try to run him down too. Because that was what you tried to do with your own son, Mrs. Harber. You tried to knock him down. A hit and run if ever there was a hit and run! But you didn’t see my black ass coming. Did you?” Roman said this with a grin. “But I’ll bet you see me now.”