Don't Ask, Don't Tell

by M. T. Pope

  Mildred was the quintessential American heiress and socialite. She was the chief of protocol for the state of California and the wife of a former United States secretary of state, Victor Trugonoff. The guest lists to her parties included visiting dignitaries, foreign royalty, A-list celebrities, politicians, presidents, and the select few who orbited around their individual shining stars. Tonight was no exception.

  The occasion was the formal state welcome of His Serene Highness, Prince Ronaldo Alexis Jacques Louis François of Monaco and his much younger wife, Princess Amanda, to the seven mile by seven mile city on the bay. The royal couple was surrounded in the center of the room by a gaggle of overly dressed women and their tuxedoed husbands holding champagne glasses with white gloved hands and laughing smartly at the witty family anecdotes being told by the prince. Smaller clusters of guests assembled around tables piled high with finger foods, at well-stocked bars and in several sitting areas just off the main living room.

  Orpheus, Raven, and their hosts, Mildred and Victor, huddled in a square formation away from the others. Mildred was a tall, slender woman. Her face was taut from annual nips and tucks administered over the past twenty years. Beneath the blond dye her hair was salty white and her smile was wide enough to welcome the world to California.

  “Milo is impressed with you, Orpheus, and so are a lot of other folks in the RNC,” Victor said gripping his champagne flute with hands mangled from arthritis. “You could go far in this party if you listen to the right people.”

  “I’m not sure just how far I really want to go, Mr. Secretary,” Orpheus said firmly. “I’ll be happy with whatever course my career takes me as long as I’m able to serve my country.”

  “Now you see, Mildred,” Victor said, smiling to his wife. “It’s attitudes like that that make men vice presidents and even presidents.”

  “Listen to him, Orpheus,” Mildred said, clutching her husband’s stiff hand. “He knows a president when he sees one. He picked the last four presidents at parties just like this one. When Victor speaks Washington listens.”

  Raven slipped her arm under Orpheus’s and said, “I couldn’t agree more. I think the voters of America would love Orpheus.”

  Victor and Mildred each laughed at the comment.

  “So young and beautiful, and so naïve,” Victor said. “My dear, there are only ten people in this country who decide who will be president, not the American people. What you see on the campaign trail and election day is nothing more than theater designed to appease the masses.”

  “That is fascinating,” Raven said, clinching Orpheus’s arm even tighter. “And just who are these mysterious ten men?”

  Mildred and Victor laughed in unison again.

  “Darling,” Mildred said with a broad grin, “even the presidents don’t know who all the ten men are. But I can tell you, you’re talking to one of them right now.”

  Raven’s black pupils dilated when she heard the words. Suddenly everyone in the room vanished. There was no chamber music. No giggling socialites and no inbred potentate spewing diplomatic niceties with a foreign tongue.

  “And what do you think of my husband?” Raven said boldly.

  “Raven,” Orpheus snapped. “Please excuse my wife, Mr. Secretary. As you can tell she is my biggest fan.”

  “Don’t apologize, my boy,” Victor said. “I like a woman who cuts to the chase. That’s why I chose my Mildred. When she sees what she wants nothing can stop her from getting it.”

  Mildred laughed, kissed Victor on his weathered cheek and said, “He thinks he chose me, Raven, but I chose him two years before he even met me.”

  “A woman after my own heart,” Raven said, raising her glass to Mildred.

  “Son, the way you led our troops in Iraq was nothing short of heroic, and this country desperately needs a hero about now,” Victor said. “Now it’s a bit early for me to say that you’re that hero, but from where I stand right now you’re the closet thing we’ve got to him today and you, Raven, my dear, are running a close second.”

  “Well we’re a team, Mr. Secretary,” Raven said, looking Victor directly in the eye. “If you pick Orpheus you also get me.”

  “That’s good to know,” Victor said. “I always say, you can tell more about a man from his wife than from the man himself. And, my dear, if my theory is correct then the general here is quite a winner.”

  “General Roulette, have you been introduced to the prince yet?” Mildred said, reaching for Orpheus’s arm. “Would you two please excuse us? Come with me, Orpheus. He’s a bit of a royal bore but you might as well get used to it if you want to be vice president.”

  “Don’t worry about your wife, General,” Victor said, moving to Raven’s side. “She’s in good hands. May I get you another drink, my dear?”

  Mildred led Orpheus by the arm across the room directly to the prince. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as the two made their way through the room. Mildred directed servers to fill champagne glasses and exchanged short party pleasantries as she passed through the guests with Orpheus in tow.

  “So what do you think of all this, Mrs. Roulette?” Victor said as he reached for a champagne glass passing on a server’s tray and handed it to Raven. “Do you think your husband has what it takes to make it in Washington?”

  Victor was the only man in the room wearing a gray suit and neck tie. All others were in black tails and tightly knotted bowties. The buttons strained to conceal his potbelly and his shirt tail bunched up just above his belt. At seventy-six the toll of political power showed on his sagging jowls and bowed posture.

  “I think your instincts are right,” Raven said.

  “Right about Orpheus or right about you?”

  “Both,” she said boldly. “I won’t be coy about this, Mr. Secretary, because I think you’d see right through that.”

  “You’re correct, my dear. I would. I didn’t get to be this age by not knowing when someone was blowing smoke up my ass.”

  “And I didn’t get this far by not knowing when I should and when I should not blow smoke up someone’s ass,” she said with the slightest hint of seduction.

  “You’re a smart woman. I like that. Mildred is leaving for Paris in the morning. Are you free to join me for lunch here tomorrow? We can talk more about your husband’s future.”

  Raven raised her champagne glass, nodded her head and said, “Tomorrow it is, Mr. Secretary.”

  “You were magnificent tonight,” Raven said to Orpheus. “Everyone loved you.”

  “I hate that crowd,” Orpheus said, removing his pants. “The prince was pompous and his wife was a silly blond twit. Monaco, and England for that matter, should have done away with the monarchy decades ago. They’re a useless bunch of inbreds whose sole contribution to their countries is leeching off the people.”

  “I think they do more than that, Orpheus.”

  “Like what?”

  “They give their countries a sense of history and identity,” Raven replied, turning her back to him for assistance with her pearl necklace. “They do charitable work. Look at what Prince Charles has done for the environment and organic farming.”

  “Yes, but was it worth the shame he brought to his country with the whole Diana fiasco. It took them a decade to live that down.”

  Raven removed her black evening gown and hung it neatly in the closet. Orpheus took off his suit and crawled into bed, releasing a sigh of relief when his head hit the pillow.

  “I’m having lunch with Victor tomorrow,” she said matter-of-factly at the vanity mirror.

  “Victor who?” Orpheus replied.

  “The only Victor who matters in our world right now. Victor Trugonoff,” she said, brushing her silky black mane.

  Orpheus looked suspiciously at Raven from the bed and said, “Why on earth would you be having lunch with him? What does he want to talk about?”

  “What do you think?” Raven stood and walked to the bed. “He wants to talk about you.”

  “I don�
��t trust him, Raven. Did you see the way he was looking at your breasts? I thought he was going to keel over head first into your cleavage.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Orpheus. The man is seventy-six years old. He’s so old I don’t think even Viagra would help him get it up,” Raven said, folding her long legs under the puffy duvet next to Orpheus. “He’s just a harmless old man who wants to help you.”

  “Help me what?”

  “You heard what Mildred said. He’s one of the ten men in this country who decides who will be president. He likes you and I’m just going to put any doubts he might still have about you to rest.”

  “And you believed her?” Orpheus said mockingly. “You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theories. The American people elect the president. They’ve done so for the last forty-four presidents and they will again for the forty-fifth.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Raven said, reaching for her laptop on the nightstand. “Look at what happened with George Bush in Florida. America elected Gore but Bush moved into the White House. Someone vetoed the American people and I think it was Trugonoff and his fraternity.”

  “That was a fluke.”

  “Fluke or not, I just want to hedge our bets. What harm will it do? Lunch with a kindly gentleman. At the very least I can tell him how wonderful you are. Remember he still has tremendous influence with the party leadership.”

  “Raven, I’m not comfortable with this. I think you need to stay out of it. Trugonoff may appear harmless but he can be ruthless. Let them have their backroom conversations about me. I suspect by the time all is said and done they’ll find some other golden boy and forget all about me.”

  Raven looked at him coldly. “That’s the point. I don’t want them to forget about you.”

  “Why is this so important to you? You have a wonderful life. Beautiful children. A lovely home. Why do you always want more? You’re never satisfied with anything.”

  “How can you even compare this life to what we could have in Washington? You would be the second most powerful person in the country. Our children would be exposed to some of the most influential people in the world. Don’t you want that even for them?”

  “Our children are fine just the way they are,” Orpheus snapped. “Why don’t you just admit this is more about you than it is about them or me?”

  “It’s not about me,” she said, sitting upright in the bed. “If you can’t see I’ve done all this for you then you’re a fool. I’ve busted my ass just to get you on their radar. Do you know how many millions of dollars I’ve raised just to get someone else’s husbands elected? How many asses I’ve had to kiss just so people would know who the fuck you are? And this is the thanks I get.”

  “Save the bullshit, Raven, for someone else. I know you. I know this is about your sick need to accumulate power. Your father really did a job on you.”

  “How fucking dare you bring my father into this. He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

  Orpheus jumped from the bed in his white boxer shorts and T-shirt and shouted, “Then why don’t you work on getting him elected vice president and leave me the fuck out of it.”

  He grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed and stormed out of the room. Raven could hear the creak of the hardwood floors as he bounded down the stairs. She then heard the door to his office slam.

  Fucking coward, she thought. He’s going to be vice president even if it kills him.

  Orpheus paced the floor of his study. His Chinese silk robe flapped behind him with every step he took. The room was dark. He could hear the muffled wail of a police siren in the distance.

  Why can’t she leave me alone, he thought as he made a figure eight in front of his desk. I’m a soldier. I just want to be a good soldier, not a politician.

  Orpheus finally dropped the full weight of his body into his desk chair and rocked impatiently back and forth. He looked up and saw the blank computer screen and immediately thought of the pleasant chat he had with Kiss-n-tell the night before. The digital clock on the desk read 12: 13.

  I wonder if he’s online, he thought. Not likely. He’s probably out at some club in the Castro. I’m sure I’ll never run into him again.

  Orpheus reached down and turned on the computer. The familiar hum of the hard drive filled the room and the glowing screen covered his tense face in a pool of light. When he logged onto the site he saw there were forty-two people in the chat room, but none were named Kiss-n-tell.

  Orpheus began to read the flood of entries on the screen.

  Pipper: does anyone have any 420?

  Manatplay: im looking for mr. right in all the wrong places.

  Tit4tat: got wasted at the lookout tonight and made out with some guy at the bar

  Bisanfran: you sound like my father. Is that you dad? :)

  And then it appeared.

  Kiss-n-tell: hello generalone. How are you tonight?

  Orpheus’s heart leapt when he read the words.

  Generalone: im fine. didn’t expect to see you in here tonight.

  Kiss-n-tell: just came in from work. Thought I’d check to see who’s out there.

  Generalone: im glad you did.

  Orpheus felt the tension easing from his shoulders and the muscles in his jaws loosen as he typed.

  Generalone: what do you look like?

  Generalone: in the real, world not in cyber :)

  Kiss-n-tell: LOL ... im 6 foot 4. Blond hair, blue eyes, swimmers build, size 12 shoe.

  Generalone: ok

  Kiss-n-tell: your turn.

  Generalone: 6 foot 4 blond, blue, swimmers build, size 13

  Kiss-n-tell: LOL ... beat me by 1 inch.

  Generalone: i guess everyone looks like that in cyber.

  Kiss-n-tell: only the liars :)

  Orpheus tried to imagine what Kiss-n-tell really looked like. Probably some fat old man masturbating at his computer with his boxers around his ankles.

  The messages kept streaming and seconds ticked by as Orpheus conjured other, more pleasing, images of Kiss-n-tell.

  Kiss-n-tell: are you still there?

  Generalone: im here.

  Kiss-n-tell: what are you thinking about?

  Generalone: how i’d like to know what you really look like.

  Kiss-n-tell: funny i was thinking the same about you.

  Generalone: may I ask you a question.

  Kiss-n-tell: yes but remember its cyber.

  Generalone: ok. have you ever been in love?

  Kiss-n-tell: yes, once

  Generalone: is that a cyber yes?

  Kiss-n-tell: no

  Generalone: what happened?

  Kiss-n-tell: guess he didn’t love me as much.

  Generalone: im sorry. That must have hurt.

  Kiss-n-tell: still does. Your turn

  Generalone: yes I have.

  Kiss-n-tell: what happened?

  Generalone: they changed.

  Kiss-n-tell: how?

  Generalone: turned into someone i didn’t recognize.

  Kiss-n-tell: how did you handle that?

  Generalone: haven’t decided yet.

  Chapter 5

  The lobby of the twenty-three-story condominium complex appeared to be constructed from the remnants of a marble palace. The severely polished floor seemed liquid and reflected the sunlight pouring through the two-story high glass walls. Roman-styled pillars with gold accents at the base, in equal intervals up the shaft, and at the top on the ornately carved capitals. French provincial tan and white chairs were positioned in clusters in the center of the room, near a marble fireplace, and at the windows.

  “Raven Roulette here to see Mr. Victor Trugonoff,” Raven said to a gray-suited man behind a white desk.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Roulette. Mr. Trugonoff is expecting you. May I see your identification please?”

  Raven handed her driver’s license and waited patiently as he compared the image on the card to her face.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Roulette,”
the man said, returning her license. “If you could just sign here, I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

  Raven had spent much of the morning deciding on just the right outfit to wear to her lunch with Victor Trugonoff. She ultimately chose a two-piece black suit that highlighted the elegant curves of her hips and a white blouse that showed just enough of the full cleavage that Victor was so obviously fond of.

  “This way, Mrs. Roulette.”

  The security guard/concierge/desk attendant walked ahead of Raven to a bank of white elevator doors. The first elevator had a sign over it that read PENTHOUSE.

  When the door opened, the man stepped aside and Raven entered the luxurious steel box. He followed her and placed a key in a lock next to the only button on the panel.

  “This elevator only goes to the twenty-third floor, Mrs. Roulette. Mr. Trugonoff’s assistant will be waiting for you when the doors open.”

  “Thank you,” Raven said politely.

  The elevator glided upward through the artery of the building, coming to a gentle stop on the top floor. When the doors slid open a tall, efficient-looking woman with a blond bob haircut and conservative gray wool dress was standing in the foyer of the Trugonoff’s condominium.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Roulette,” the woman said with an accent teetering between British and Connecticut blue blood. “I’m Amelia Caldecott, Mr. Trugonoff’s personal assistant. Mr. Trugonoff asked that you make yourself comfortable and he will be down momentarily.

  Raven detected a hint of suspicion in the precise woman’s tone and decided to set the tone early in their relationship.

  “If you don’t mind I’d like a glass of white wine while I’m waiting. Thank you.”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Roulette,” the woman responded minus the tone. “I’ll get that for you immediately. Please make yourself comfortable.”