Foster's Fall (Foster's Life)

by Jake Williams

  He gave me a quick hug and a manly pat on the back and I could smell hair plastic and aftershave and a little hint of sweat. “Jake, I’m glad you were able to meet us for dinner.” Like we were in the fucking entrance to Outback or something. “And you brought your fraternity brothers with you.” He started shaking hands again and I guess Brent’s pill was kicking in because I started feeling optimistic about this whole scenario. “We have a table set up for the agents, maybe you two would like to join them, you know, for dinner.”

  I shook my head. “They’ll eat with us. I mean we came here in Spence’s, his father’s, plane. They’ve gone out of their way to be here for me, I’m not sending them to the fuckin’ kiddie table.” The table the agents were seated at was about three feet from us and they were all staring at me. “No offense, fellas.”

  Megan was sitting at the table and somehow texting despite her long red nails. She was wearing a hat that looked like something you’d see at a royal wedding—a smallish kind of feathered and bright thing with about an inch of veil hanging from the front of it. She had on enormous sunglasses and a red dress that started somewhere at the bottom of her cleavage. She looked up and acted like she hadn’t noticed us until that second. “Jake, it’s good to see you again.” She continued texting and we all took our seats.

  My father grinned at me and asked, “So, how’s school going?”

  I grinned back and my inner GPS announced it was going to have to recalculate our route. “Fine.”

  He looked at the three of us and tried to widen his grin but it just made him look like a demented jack-o-lantern. “I guess this is exciting for all of you! You know, unexpected road trips are always the best kind! Reminds me of my own college days.”

  I turned to Spence and asked, “That reminds me, do I need to chip in for gas on this joy ride? What’s my share, like two grand or something?” I looked back at my father and he was studying his watch.

  I turned my attention to Megan and tapped on the table to get her attention. “So, how are things with you, Megan? How are your classes, and whatnot?” I stared straight into her eyes and willed her to vanish. “Seeing anybody special?”

  She finally took off the sunglasses and it looked like she still had a thing for coke. “Well, I’ve...postponed, I guess you’d say...I’m taking a semester off.”

  I nodded. “No doubt.” I pointed at her phone. “I hope you’re not posting anything to Instagram, ha ha.”

  She set the phone down on the table and sighed. “A lot of my friends are interested—or concerned, something like that, about me.”

  I nodded. “Speaking of concern, how are your parents doin’ these days? I mean, I’m sure your father’s got his hands full right now, but how ‘bout your mother? I mean, she probably doesn’t have to start packing just yet, right?”

  Megan almost slipped, her lips pouted and her shoulders and neck tensed, but she recovered with the skill of a lifetime in the public eye and smiled. “I’m sure she’s not considering packing, there’s no reason to believe she won’t be there for another five years.”

  I stared her down. “I didn’t mean packing her things, not exactly. But I bet she’s saving some boxes for that, too. I meant packing your shit, it’s not like she can just throw it all out on the driveway or burn it on the lawn. The tourists might notice that.”

  There was a knock on the door and Rob jumped up to check it out. He opened the door all the way and a waitress came in rolling a cart with covered dishes. She parked it between the two tables and began serving everyone. Megan looked down at her plate and then back at the waitress. “What, exactly, is this shit?” Even my father flinched at that.

  The waitress looked to be about fifty with graying hair and a low-tolerance-for-bullshit look on her face. “It’s chicken in our house cream sauce, roasted potatoes, and a vegetable mix.” She put a basket on the table and said, “Here are some dinner rolls.”

  Megan tapped the plate with her fork. “No, I don’t want this. Have the chef bring me a vegan meal, something very herbal—but absolutely gluten and salt free.”

  The waitress—Susan, according to her name tag—stared at Megan and said, “I’m just going by what the hospitality people told us to serve. And there’s not really a ‘chef” in the kitchen, there’s just a guy that pops the food into a microwave. He also drives the shuttle bus if you need a ride somewhere.”

  Megan turned to my father. “Is this some kind of joke?” She split the evil stare between me, my father and poor Susan. “I’m not going to eat this shit. Why didn’t we just eat at the country club where we’re staying?”

  My father put a small piece of chicken in his mouth and smiled at all of us. He swallowed hard and shared a smile with everyone. “This meal is fine, Susan. Thank you.” He looked at Megan. “I thought we could eat here and keep the fuss to a minimum. Seeing Jake and sparing him all the...drama that’s going on over there would be best.” He turned to me and explained, “We thought we could stay here for a few days and rest while we decided where to go for a...vacation.” But the country club has tactfully told us that we’ll need to make other living arrangements immediately—we’ll be heading out in the morning.”

  I really didn’t care about the chicken or anything. I looked at Susan and told her, “You know, I think what this gang needs is a little wine to get things rolling, you know, to liven up the atmosphere.” Spence set the stolen bottle of wine on the table and I asked, “Susan, do you think you could round up a corkscrew—”

  She pointed at the bottle. “It’s a twist-off top, but I’ll grab some wine glasses from the lobby for you.” She looked around the table. “And I’ll see if I can’t round up a few more bottles of that for you. I assume the other table, the guys with the guns, won’t be drinking alcohol tonight. Is that the red stuff or the white?”

  I peeled the plastic label back a little. “It’s the red. Thanks, ma’am, and do you have any cake or anything?” I pointed at Megan. “My father’s little sweetheart here, well, it’s her birthday. Can we get her a cake with nineteen candles?”

  She glared at Megan and I realized she knew exactly who we were. “I’ll bring glasses, even though she’s underage. As far as cake goes I’ll have to see what we can defrost.”

  Spence patted my thigh under the table and I knew he wanted me to tone it down but the promise of more wine gave me added confidence. “So,” I asked my Dad, “what are your vacations plans? I mean, are you planning on ever going back to DC to...resolve things or events like your senate seat, any investigations, or having the President kick your ass?”

  My father started turning a little red and I waited for him to expose another chink in his armor. He took a couple deep breaths and said, “Jake, I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions before you’re aware of all of the uh, facts of my change in political aspirations and the realignment of my life goals. And of course, my focus now is on my constituents and their continued, uh, belief in my ability to serve them while still resolving recent developments in my personal life. I’m sure everyone can understand that public service shouldn’t put a hold on my life plans and Megan’s happiness, everything in life has to be balanced. And of course, I don’t want anything to change my relationship with you or your brother—family is my number one priority. I hope that in time you and Danny will come to share the same affection toward Megan that I feel.”

  I stared at Megan and could see a hint of deer in the headlight in her eyes. “Well, Dad, that’s not a stretch for me. Megan and I really got to know each other over the summer.”

  Megan spoke up. “Well, Foster—I mean Jake. I think what your father’s trying to say is that, like, I’m not trying to replace your mother or anything. I’m not trying to jump right into the family tree.” Even my father looked a little confused when she said that. “But it seems like you have some hostility about this situation. I’m just saying that none of this is my fault, I didn’t plan on being shoved around by all this political shit—it was forced on me. What w
as I supposed to do? Everybody makes it seem like I planned to do this, that I’m just acting out or whatever. I do what I want, if people can’t deal with it then this whole clusterfuck is really their fault. Do you think I really want a life of being chased by the paparazzi and hiding out on yachts and living in exotic places?”

  “You left out having your own reality show and a line of shoes or bras or a cookbook or whatever. But to answer your question, I think that’s exactly what you want.”

  Susan came back in with more wine and some plastic glasses. She told us, “It was a no go on the cake—one of the guys on the staff, Jeff, offered to go down the street to the grocery store and get one from there but I told him there wasn’t time. I need to know what else you want because my shift ends in about twenty minutes and no offense, but I really just want to get out of here, now. Just leave your plates and everything in here when you’re done and the night crew will clean the room before they set it back up for the business meetings in the morning.”

  My father looked at me and then told Susan, “Thank you for your...trouble.”

  She began to walk out the door. I said, “Hang on a minute, Susan, if you’re not going to be here when we leave I’d like to give you a tip.”

  She shook her head. “It’s included in the bill for the dinner.”

  I slipped her a hundred. “Well, let me give you a little extra for the wine and trying to get the cake. You’ve been great.”

  She looked at the money and said, “That’s very nice of you. Normally I wouldn’t accept it, I mean I’m already getting a fair tip. But tonight,” she looked at Megan like you’d look at a rotting homeless crack addict, “tonight I think I will.”

  As soon as she walked back out the door we unscrewed caps and all began drinking the wine. Megan downed a glass, winced, and then poured herself another one. “So, Jake, to answer your question, I’m not going to do anything to embarrass your father or make fun of our...love for each other. This is permanent, this will go down as a great romance between two famous people who sacrifice everything to be together.”

  I nodded. “And speaking of ‘people’, have you scheduled any magazine interviews or anything like that?” I looked at my father and asked, “Kind of gives new meaning to ‘Meet the Press’ or ‘Face the Nation’, doesn’t it?”

  My father glanced at Megan and told me, “We’ve discussed this issue, and Megan understands that anything she does in terms of the media is her decision. I think the best thing for me to do is let things sort themselves out before I attempt to...re-engage the press. But speaking of that, how are things going with you on that front?”

  I shrugged. “My brothers have my back, and the college has provided me with a media person who—”

  “Is he good?” My father asked. “Because if he’s not, we can hire someone or I can get somebody from the company to help you.”

  Megan jumped in. “He can’t be all that great! I haven’t seen you do a single interview or make a statement, nothing. Maybe your mother’s publicist could help you, you know, ramp up your exposure.”

  My father shook his head violently. “He’s already exposed himself enough, after that ridiculous ad campaign. Any more exposure and he would be working in the porn industry.” He turned a little pale. “You’re not already doing that, are you? I mean, I would hate for you to do something stupid—something you can’t take back.”

  I blew a little of the red wine out of my sinuses and it probably looked like I had a nosebleed. Spence handed me a napkin and when I pulled it away from my face I said, “Nope, I haven’t done anything stupid in front of the press since the ad campaign, and of course standing up on a stage with the two of you.” The Secret Service guys had inhaled their frozen dinners and were watching our table like you’d watch a bad horror movie.

  My father warned me, “Let’s try to keep things a little more friendly, a little more...understanding, Jacob.” He looked at my friends and slapped that smile back on his face.

  I was beginning to feel like I’d hit a fork in the road. I could drop the guess-what-Megan-and-I-did-last-summer bomb or I could just grin and wrap this thing up as painlessly as possible. Spence was reading my mind and squeezed my thigh while Dave was kicking my shin. “You’re right, let’s stay focused on why we’re all here—because I really don’t have a clue.”

  Megan gave this snort that she was going to have to avoid if she did get her own show. It sounded like her spleen was caught in her nose. “We’re here so you can see how...happy we are. How...devoted we are to each other. You know, this isn’t the first time love has transcended politics and changed the destiny of a country or whatever. I’ve been reading about the Prince of Wales and Wallis Simpson, you know that he abdicated the throne for her before he met Dianna, it’s a little known fact but I looked it up on line.”

  I nodded. “I think I know what you’re tryin’ to say, but this...situation, it isn’t really about a monarchy. Not like the Kennedy’s or anything. I was thinking this was a little more like Anna Nicole Smith, or Bill Clinton, or one of those guys out West who’s eighty years old and marries about fifty teenage girls.” I poured another glass of the wine, it was so far beyond any naturally-produced grapes that I wondered if Exxon was the distributor. I looked around and realized all of the bottles were empty. “But however it plays out, it’s definitely one for the books.” I looked at my father and tried to sound concerned, or at least interested. “So, what’s your plan for the next few months or years or whatever?” I thought about nuclear power plant disasters and how the news always said it took thousands of years for things to get back to normal, the radioactive half life of chaos or something like that.

  He seemed to brighten up a little and that had me confused. “Well, we’re sorting out all the blind trust arrangements I made when I became a senator and especially when I accepted the nomination for—well, you know. Anyway, I’ve convinced the board to let me use the yacht for a while. When I get back I assume that I’ll give running the company a shot. I think your grandfather would like that idea, maybe he’s smiling down at me from heaven thinking about me leading the company again.”

  “I’m sure that’s what he’s doing, smiling down on you. Or maybe staring up.” I made a mental note to have Spence unload as much of the family’s company stock as I could without it looking suspicious.

  “Do you, Jake—Son—I did have one favor to ask, just kind of a family thing.” He glanced at Spence and Dave. Dave was studying his plate, he had carved the chicken breast into odd shapes and was stacking them for some kind of game of poultry Jenga or whatever. “The current situation is awkward in terms of liquid assets, and I need some assistance with day-to-day expenses for Megan and me, just until these financial matters are resolved.”

  I was looking at a small table in the corner. It had those little tented nametags for whatever business meeting was taking place tomorrow morning. The names that were printed on them were the everyday names of salesmen—Bill, Tony, Mike, two Johns, even a Sam. I pictured them all in here tomorrow morning, groaning and trying to recover from a night of topless bars as they sipped coffee and relived the night’s adventures. I turned to my father and asked, “You need...cash?”

  I almost fell out of my chair when his cheeks turned bright red. It was the first time I had ever seen that happen, it was enough color to poke through the constant healthy tan he maintained with regular visits to a tanning bed. He nodded. “Well, not so much cash as a temporary transfer of funds from your trusts to an account that I have ready access to. Of, course, this arrangement would be temporary. My accountants say they could return the funds to your accounts by the end of next month.”

  “You mean after the election.” I shrugged and noticed Megan pretending to be bored and curious at the same time. “What kind of money are we talking about? I mean, I have some money promised to...a scientist, for a...research project, for a charity. You know, charity stuff for the frat.” I turned to Spence. “Do you know if any of the
drones—those shipments to the poor and needy, have any of them...malfunctioned?”

  Spence had been raising a piece of room-temperature broccoli to his mouth but he dropped it back on his plate. “So far, so good.” He turned to my father and said, “Foster usually has me check his balances and portfolio’s. I mean, it’s really all managed by my father’s people. I just keep his checkbook balanced, ha ha. But I could have fifty, maybe a hundred set up in an account for you tomorrow. That should be simple enough.”

  Dave was staring at the Secret Service table, his pile of chicken had fallen over. He turned his focus back to our table when my father asked, “Until your father’s people could move a little more than that into the account, or—”

  I cut in. “If you—wait a minute, how much are we really talking about here?” I wondered if there was an ATM in the lobby.

  He put his arm around Megan’s shoulders and pulled her close. It was the first thing he had done since the sloppy kiss at their press conference to even remotely suggest an actual romance in this clusterfuck. He said in a cautious and steady voice, “I’m not sure, we still haven’t locked in to our vacation plans. But I was thinking around a million, that should be enough to give us options.”

  I really wanted something—a joint, a magic pill, a bottle of beer or something. My nerves were twisting into knots and tugging on my bones. “Those options involve spending about 33 grand a day? That’s a nice fuckin’ vacation.”

  My father snapped at me, “Watch the language! There’s a lady present!” He was so focused on me he didn’t even notice Dave jotting something on a paper napkin and sliding it in front of me. It read Where?, and I shot him a grin.

  Megan spoke up and explained, “By the time you add up a decent hotel suite, security, clothes, and travel expenses it’s really not that outrageous. From what Roger says we won’t have access to the jet for another month or so. Oh, and of course, we’ll need money for entertainment...and dining out.”