First Lady

by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

  To her astonishment, the announcer began shaking hands with the potbellied, bearded man at her side.

  She’d lost! Stunned, she stared out at the crowd. Mat gave her a go-figure shrug, and Button clapped, mimicking the applause she heard around her.

  A chill shot through her as she spotted a photographer lifting his camera. She ducked. Then she began sidling toward the edge of the platform.

  “Wait a minute, Brandy. You’re our first runner-up. We have a prize for you.”

  She pretended she didn’t understand and darted off the stage. People made way for her as she pushed through the crowd to Mat.

  “Aren’t you going to claim your prize?” he said when she reached him.

  “I just want to get out of here,” she whispered furiously.

  His eyebrows arched in mock surprise. “Hey, I thought you only spoke Spanish.”

  “Don’t be cute. I’ll meet you at the car. You can find Lucy; I don’t ever want to see her again! And let me have Button.” If the photographer spotted her, she could duck behind the baby.

  “Gladly.”

  As she took the baby from him, Button screwed up her face to protest. Nealy had already attracted far too much attention, and a screaming fit was the last thing she needed. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Please.”

  Button screwed her face tighter. “Sit!”

  Nealy turned toward the exit. “How does the piggy go? Oink . . . oink . . .” Just then Lucy came rushing toward them, a Black and Decker box in her hand, a scowl on her face. “What am I supposed to do with a freaking power drill? And Nell looks more like Cornelia Case than that old fart looked like Santa Claus. Why did you vote for him?”

  Nealy stopped in her tracks. “You voted for him?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve got to admit, he really looked like Santa. That beard was real.”

  Nealy stared at him. “I don’t believe it. Two days ago you couldn’t stop talking about how much I look like you-know-who, but you didn’t even vote for me?”

  “I had to vote my conscience.”

  She was surprised she could still laugh.

  To Mat’s relief, Mabel was ready to go when they reached the garage. “What about my picnic?” Nealy complained as they headed for the highway.

  “Promise her she can have her picnic, Jorik, or she’ll complain all day.”

  “You should talk, Miss Mall Rat,” Nealy countered.

  “Girls, girls . . .” Mat’s sigh was long-suffering.

  “I can’t believe you only won a power drill,” Lucy complained. “You should have tucked in your top like I told you so you didn’t look so fat.”

  “I don’t look fat.”

  “Trust me, Lucy,” Mat said. “She doesn’t look fat.”

  “And why did you have to start talking Spanish?” Lucy slapped the drill down on the table. “I want to find one of those places where you sell stuff and get money back.”

  “A pawnshop?” Nealy asked.

  “That’s it! I want to go to a pawnshop. Maybe I can even get an old TV there.”

  “You’re not going to any pawnshop!” Mat’s jaw was starting to twitch.

  “Too much television rots your brain,” Nealy said.

  “It’s not for me. It’s for Button. Don’t you know anything?”

  “Apparently not. Why does Button need a television?”

  Lucy gave another of her patented you’re-a-moron looks. “So she can watch Teletubbies like all the other kids her age. I guess you don’t care if she ends up flunking kindergarten or something.”

  “Buckle up,” Mat growled. “And I don’t want to hear another word about pawnshops or Tele-whatever or anything else. Does everybody understand me?”

  They all did.

  Mat chose to cross West Virginia into Ohio on Route 50, a divided highway, but not an interstate, so Nealy knew he was still worried that the police might be looking for the girls. As lunchtime approached, the sky clouded over and it began to rain, forcing Nealy to abandon her plans for a picnic. They ate hamburgers instead as they drove through the wet, picturesque hills of southeastern Ohio, home of eight presidents, although Warren Harding had done such an abysmal job, Nealy didn’t know why any state would want to claim him.

  Button remained relatively content just gazing at her beloved, but Lucy kept demanding that they stop at every strip mall, convenience store, and roadside rest area. Mat generally ignored her, which only made her more demanding. Nealy was beginning to suspect that Lucy didn’t want to get to Iowa, and that worried her.

  She forced Mat to stop at a highway K mart and emerged with a couple of handheld games, as well as some books and magazines to distract the teenager.

  “The Hobbit?” Lucy tossed it aside seconds after Nealy handed it to her. “That’s a kid’s book.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Nealy replied with fake sympathy, “but Ulysses was out of stock.”

  Since Lucy had no idea what Nealy was talking about, she could only shoot her a dirty look. A few minutes later, she flopped down on the double bed in the back with the offending book, and Nealy didn’t hear another word from her for the rest of the afternoon. With Button sound asleep in her car seat and the teenager occupied in the rear, Nealy leaned back to enjoy the scenery.

  “I’m real sorry you missed your picnic,” Mat said.

  “You’re not sorry at all.” She smiled. “And the weather looks like it’s clearing, so we can have a dinner picnic.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re so cynical about everything. Why is that?”

  “It goes with my job.”

  “I didn’t know cynicism was an occupational hazard for steelworkers.”

  His eyes flickered oddly. “It comes and goes.” And then he smiled. “I enjoyed last night.”

  She suddenly felt as awkward as a teenager. “I didn’t. You were completely out of line with that pillow.”

  “You’ve got to admit you’re happier not wearing it.”

  “You also leaped to all kinds of erroneous conclusions about my marriage. Not only that, you’re—”

  A great kisser?”

  She repressed a smile. “You’re all right, I suppose.”

  He sighed. “I guess our styles just don’t match.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I like big, aggressive, man-sized kisses . . . the kind that make your toes curl. You, on the other hand, like wimpy, girly kisses that wouldn’t curl a hair ribbon.”

  “Girly kisses?”

  “Yeah, the kind of kisses little girls give to uncles who smoke cigars.”

  “Trust me. I would never kiss an uncle the way I kissed you last night!”

  “Prissy kisses.”

  “Prissy!” She was beginning to get annoyed. “I don’t have a prissy bone in my body.”

  “You bought white underwear.”

  “Only because I wanted to irritate you. If you hadn’t been there, I would have chosen something more exotic.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like none of your business.”

  “No, I’m serious. This is an important question. The kind of underwear a woman buys reflects her character.”

  “I can’t wait to hear this.”

  “That’s why the idea of you wearing white panties bothers me.”

  “I seem to be having trouble keeping up.”

  “Isn’t it obvious? That’s the favorite underwear of female serial killers.”

  “Ah.” She nodded wisely. “You know this for a fact?”

  “I read it somewhere. Women who wear that type of underwear are the same women who put signs in the windows of their houses advertising rooms for rent. The next thing you know, the neighbors start complaining about a bad smell coming from under the back porch.”

  “A girl’s gotta make a living.”

  He laughed.

  Bantering about underwear wasn’t her strong point, and she knew she should change the subject, but that little trollop Nell Kelly wouldn’t let go. �
��I don’t think this has anything to do with serial killers. I think you have a black underwear fetish.”

  “I like red, too. Although just about any color’d look good on you.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah, I do.” He smiled and let those gray eyes slide over her like molten metal. “So what are we going to do about this kissing problem?”

  Cornelia Case didn’t have a silly bone in her body, but Nell had lower standards, and she was enjoying their conversation. “Resign ourselves, I guess, that some things aren’t meant to be.”

  “Or . . . and here’s an idea . . . we could work on it.”

  Her skin tingled. “And how would we do that?”

  “Wait until the little buggers fall asleep and practice.”

  “Ahh. That would be one way, I suppose.”

  “Come to think about it, the hotel last night was a lot more comfortable than sleeping in this thing. I think I’ll find another hotel just like it for us to stay in tonight.”

  Cornelia chose that moment to raise her cautious head. “And I think you’re moving too fast. We only met two days ago.”

  “And we’ll be separating in another few days. That makes it even more important that we don’t waste time.”

  “Just get right to it, is that it?”

  “Sure. Haven’t you ever fantasized about having sex with a stranger?”

  A strong, gorgeous stranger who would sweep her off her feet, without knowing who she was, make delirious love to her, and then disappear in the morning. “Absolutely not.”

  “Liar.” His grin was cocky and supremely confident.

  “Would you be quiet so I can enjoy the scenery?”

  From the rear of the motor home, Lucy set aside her book to watch the byplay between Jorik and Nell. They seemed to have forgotten she was around. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she sure could see that they were hot for each other.

  An idea began to form in her mind, and her stomach got all fluttery, but this time it was the good sort of fluttery. Neither of them was married. Jorik was bossy and thought he knew everything, but Button liked him. Nell was sort of a geek, and she didn’t know much about babies, but she was always checking everything to make sure Button didn’t hurt herself. She was also nice—buying Lucy those dresses and everything. And even though Jorik had gotten drunk once, he didn’t show any signs of being an alcoholic. He’d also been driving a great car, so he had money, and he was pretty funny, although she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  What if she could get them together? The butterflies moved faster in her stomach. She trusted both of them to take care of her baby sister a lot more than she’d ever trusted Sandy. Maybe they’d fall in love, then get married, and adopt Button to be their own kid. Button was cute, not an obnoxious teenager like Lucy, and Nell and Jorik seemed to be starting to like her a little. Jorik had quit complaining about picking her up, and Nell didn’t seem as nervous around her as she’d been that first day.

  The more Lucy thought about it, the more she decided they were her best hope. Somehow she had to get Jorik and Nell together, then convince them to adopt Button. Once her baby sister was settled, Lucy could take off on her own.

  Some of Lucy’s excitement vanished as she thought of saying good-bye to Button. She told herself not to be a jerk. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To go off on her own. She’d do great. She was tough, she was smart, and she wouldn’t take any crap from anybody.

  Still, for the millionth time, she wished she could have a real family. All her life, she’d dreamed of having a dad who mowed the lawn and called her some kind of lame pet name, and a mom who didn’t get drunk and keep losing jobs and having sex with everybody. All of them would live in a real house, not ones you rented and got evicted from. She’d be able to take advanced classes without everybody making fun of her and hang out with nice kids, not just burn-outs. She could be in some clubs, and sing in the choir, and boys who didn’t do drugs would like her. That’s what she wanted.

  She stabbed angrily at the bedspread with the end of her finger. She wasn’t going to get what she wanted, and there was no use pretending she would. Right now, she had to think about her sister, and that meant she needed to get Jorik and Nell together. It wouldn’t be easy because they were both smart, but Lucy figured she was smarter. All she had to do was push them in the right direction.

  And try to keep them from getting to Iowa too soon.

  Button waited until they were in Indiana before she fell apart. This time Mat didn’t have to be convinced to stop. They’d left West Virginia and Ohio behind them, Mabel hadn’t broken down again, and he was feeling more optimistic about actually making it to Iowa.

  He drove into the small campground they’d chosen for the night and smiled at the variety of barnyard noises coming from behind him as Nell tried to appease the baby. She was something, smart and funny. But it was her subtle sexiness that kept sending a whole filmstrip of X-rated images flashing through his mind.

  All afternoon he’d been driving in a haze of lust. Every time she crossed those too-slender legs, let a sandal dangle from her toes, brushed her arm against him, he felt as if he were going to explode. The mystery lady might not have completely accepted it yet, but she was about to take herself a lover. And if he had anything to say about it—which he damn well did—she was going to take that lover tonight.

  It would be tricky since they were sharing a small space with two kids, but the door at the back had a lock on it, and both girls seemed to be sound sleepers. It wasn’t an ideal solution—he wanted to make her scream—but he couldn’t wait any longer.

  As they bumped along the gravel road to the campsite, he wondered how long those flawless upper-crust manners would last in bed. If only they could have some real privacy . . . The small part of his brain that was still functioning rationally warned him to wait, but some predatory instinct told him he needed to put his mark on her as soon as possible.

  Put his mark on her? Where had that idea come from? If he weren’t careful, he’d be dragging her into the trees by her hair. He smiled as he imagined how she’d react to that, then maneuvered Mabel into their campsite and turned off the ignition.

  The Demon was starting to hiccup from screaming, and Nell rushed to unfasten her from the car seat. Her cheeks were flushed from all the animal noises, and as she leaned forward, he could see the outline of her breasts falling against the soft cotton top. He was in bad need of fresh air.

  He stepped outside, even though he knew he’d have to come right back in to settle the baby down himself. As he looked around, he congratulated himself on choosing a small campground instead of one of those big commercial ones. Here they’d have some privacy.

  Just then, a chubby woman in a floral print top, bright blue shorts, and plaid sneakers came charging toward him, a pair of reading glasses bobbing on a multicolored chain around her neck. She was trailed by a thin man dapperly dressed in neatly pressed navy shorts, a plaid sports shirt, black socks, and brown leather sandals.

  “Hi, there!” the woman trilled. “We’re the Waynes from Fort Wayne. I’m Bertis, and this is my husband Charlie. We were hoping a nice young family would camp next to us.”

  Mat felt all his plans for solitude and quiet seduction crumbling around him.

  “Your little one seems to be kicking up in there,” Charlie said. “Our granddaughter used to scream like that, but Bertis here could always make her stop, isn’t that right, Bertis? Bring that baby out here and let Grandma settle her down.”

  At that moment Nell emerged with Button twisting in her arms and screaming away at the top of her lungs. Her cheeks were wet, her rosy mouth crumpled in outrage.

  “I thought maybe some fresh air would—” Nell broke off as she saw the Waynes.

  “Hi, there, honey.” Bertis went through the introductions again, then slipped on her glasses and reached for Button. “Let me have her. I’ll calm her down.”

  No way was Mat letting a stranger
get her hands on the Demon, and he whipped her out of Nell’s arms before the other woman could touch her. “Pipe down, brat.”

  A 747 could have landed on her bottom lip, but she stopped howling.

  “That’s better.”

  Her bottom lip retracted. She hiccuped and gave him an injured pout, the kind that suggested she expected a diamond bracelet or, at the very least, a fur jacket, as a make-up present.

  “Will you look at that? You have a way with that little girl, now, don’t you? It’s just not fair.” Bertis gave Nell a conspiratorial look. “We go to all the trouble of giving birth to them, then they turn to their daddies.”

  “I didn’t give birth to her,” Nell said. “I’m—”

  “Mommy? Daddy? Thank you so much for that wonderful book you bought me. It was really educational.”

  He looked up to see Lucy step out of the motor home, her demure expression completely at odds with her hooker makeup. “Hi, I’m Lucy Jorik.”

  Mat winced. He still couldn’t believe Sandy had given her kids his last name.

  “This is my dad Mat and my mom Nell and our baby Button. Isn’t she cute? They were going to get a divorce because my father was having an affair with my best friend, but then they got back together, and Button was their make-up present.”

  Mat looked at Nell. “I think I’m going to hurl.”

  Nell laughed and turned to Bertis. “Lucy’s precocious. Don’t pay any attention to her. Mat and I aren’t married. I’m just his nanny.”

  Bertis’s look said she didn’t believe a word of it but, at the same time, had seen too much of life to judge. She regarded Lucy’s many earrings. “I hope you don’t have your tongue pierced, young lady. Our oldest granddaughter Megan had her tongue pierced, and she swallowed her earring. The doctor made her do her business in a bucket for a week and go through it with rubber gloves looking for the missing object.”

  Mat was happy to see that Lucy looked appalled, and his respect for Bertis rose.

  “You folks come on over and have dinner with us as soon as you get settled. I brought along a Honey Baked Ham and my Ore-Ida potato casserole, and wait till you taste my Dole fruit cocktail cake. Everybody at church makes me bring it for potluck. Come on, Lucy, you can help Charlie move those picnic tables together. And you, little darlin’, we’ll find something special for you to eat.”