by M. T. Pope
The massive room was as she remembered it from the night before. White sofas and chairs, plush white carpet, flowers and more flowers everywhere, crystal vases, glass top tables, and chandeliers sparkling throughout the room. Plaques, honors, and awards were placed prominently to remind the rare guest who did not fully understand the importance of the home’s inhabitants.
Raven saw a wall of photographs that she had not noticed the night before. Victor was in every photograph. Some were with his wife, Mildred, but most without. Him standing next to President Reagan smiling from ear to ear. Victor shaking hands with President Clinton and Hillary standing between them. Queen Elizabeth clutching her patent leather purse and Victor smiling in her direction. President Bush and Victor wearing equally large cowboy hats with horses roaming in the background. Carter, Ford, Nixon, they all were present and accounted for. Victor posing with the who’s who from both sides of the aisle. Raven recognized most, but some she did not. The wall was a memorial to the very much alive Victor Trugonoff.
“Raven,” she suddenly heard over her shoulder. “I’m so glad you could make it,” Victor said, walking toward her with both hands extended. “I see you found my shrine. Are you thoroughly impressed?”
“As a matter of fact I am,” Raven said with an outstretched hand.
Victor lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Did you see that one?” he said, pointing to a picture near the top of the wall. “That was taken two days after 9/11 with George. He was one mistake I’ll never live down,” he said, laughing. “This one over here I’m particularly proud of. Do you know who that is?”
Raven moved closer to the picture. “I’m sorry I don’t,” she said with a puzzled expression.
“I didn’t think you would. You see that man standing behind me. That’s was the Mayor of New Orleans a week after Katrina. Mildred and I spent three months down there working on the recovery efforts. Sad, sad chapter in American history.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Secretary,” Amelia said, approaching them from the rear. “Here’s the white wine you requested.”
“Excellent idea, Raven,” Victor said. “Bring me a glass too, Amelia.”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a brittle smile. “Will there be anything else?”
“Tell the cook we’re ready for lunch when she is,” Victor said, turning his back to her. “Cold fish,” Victor whispered as Amelia left the room. “But she’s been with me for years. Don’t know what I’d do without her. I hope you’re hungry, Raven. I asked the cook to prepare something very special for you.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Secretary. Yes, I am.”
Victor laughed out loud and said, “Mr. Secretary? Come now, Raven, so formal. We’re like one big happy family in the Republican Party. Call me Vic. Hell, everybody else does.”
“Okay, Vic. Did Mildred make it off to Paris?”
Victor looked at his watch. “She’s somewhere over the Atlantic by now. So it’s just you and me,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the formal dining room.
The elegant room was consumed by a massive crystal chandelier that hung over a glass dining room table surrounded twelve white chairs. A place setting was at the head of the table and one at the seat to its left, affording the occupant the view through a wall of glass that overlooked the aqua blue bay, Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, and Sausalito.
“Please sit down,” Victor said, pointing to the seat at the side of the table. “So tell me about the beautiful Raven Roulette. Who is she? What does she dream of? What makes her smile?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me the same about yourself,” Raven replied.
Victor released his bellowing laugh. “Quid pro quo. A woman after my own heart. Nothing is free in this world. Right, Raven?”
Raven recounted how she met Orpheus in the halls of the Pentagon while lunch was being served by a portly woman wearing a uniform complete with a white apron and hat. She talked about her two perfect children and their lovely home in the Presidio. The two laughed and exchanged Washington gossip through much of the meal. Each finding the other surprisingly charming and witty.
An hour had gone by. The conversation had turned to politics but Victor made no mention of the vice presidency. Raven was patient. She knew he would get to it in his own time. Can’t rush these people, she thought. He might be a hundred but he’s obviously no idiot. Just play along, she cautioned herself.
“Of all the half-baked policies of this current administration,” Victor said, tossing his napkin onto the table which marked the end of his meal, “you know which one I think is the most detrimental to our country?
“There’s so many to choose from,” Raven replied.
“Repealing ‘don’t ask, don’t tell,’” Victor said in disgust.
“Why is that?”
“Because it undermines the very foundation of our country’s security. Like your husband said the other night, if our boys can’t trust each other in the barracks they’ll never be able to trust each other on the battlefield.”
“You know my husband and I couldn’t agree with you more on that. Orpheus has very strong feelings on the subject,” Raven said with passion. “He testified before several congressional committees and personally appealed to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to encourage the president to not repeal the policy.”
“I know he has,” Victor said. “I had my staff do some checking on your husband’s position on this and I think he’s right on the money.”
“Really,” Raven said with a measured dose of surprise. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that.”
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. I like you, Raven. You’re charming. Smartest woman I’ve met in a long time, and that’s saying a lot. You’re funny, and beautiful, almost to the point of being distracting. Maybe even too beautiful to be the wife of a vice president. You are the perfect mother, loving wife, and, if you don’t mind me saying, virtuous. I think America would love you. They’re easily distracted. You’re a fine woman and I like your husband too. He’s got potential. I’m just not completely convinced he’s ready for prime time.”
“What makes you think that?”
“For one he’s never held public office. Washington has a way of chewing up novices for breakfast and spitting them out. I just don’t know if he can handle it. He, to some extent, is an unknown entity.”
“I understand that, Victor,” Raven said assuredly. “But what you have to understand about my husband is that he’s military to the core. And as a result, the more pressure he is under, the stronger and more focused he becomes.”
“That’s a rare trait,” Victor said, waving his hand in concession.
“What’s your second reservation? Is it about race?”
Victor smiled and said, “My dear, I am happy to say that this country has finally grown beyond its antiquated attitudes about the race of elected officials, at least on a national level. No, it’s just something in my gut. And I listen to my gut.”
“What is it then?” Raven asked anxiously.
“I can’t put my finger on it,” he said, tapping his index finger on his lips. “It might be nothing, but until I’m sure I’m going to proceed with caution on this.”
Raven leaned back from the table and said, “I understand, Vic,” calculating just how much slack to allow in her reel. She knew it was all a game now for Victor. Her challenge was to continue to let him to think he controlled the rules. A difficult task for a woman of her temperament. “What can I do to allay your concerns, Victor?”
Victor stood from the table and walked to the window and said, “You see that boat over there?” He pointed to a hulking two-story sleek yacht docked at the pier. “It’s mine. Mildred bought it for me last year. I’m just an old, poor politician from the backwoods of Texas, but my wife comes from old money. She’s worth millions.”
“It’s beautiful,” Raven said, standing next to him at the window.
“Thank you,”
he said politely. “I’d love to take you out on it sometime.”
“I’d like that,” she replied, showing no sign of the revulsion that was beginning to well in her stomach.
“Good then. Let’s make that happen soon.”
Victor took Raven by the hand and said, “Now, my dear, I hate to end our lovely time together, but I must be going. I’m meeting with the governor in an hour and I don’t want to be late. Who knows, we may even talk a little about the general.”
It was a truly lovely day for everyone in the city. Fog filled the sky over the bay like a gray wool blanket but mercifully left the town crisp and clear. Residents took full advantage of the sun. Golden Gate Park was bustling with helmeted families riding bikes along the wooded trails, joggers pounding the pavement, and picnickers lying leisurely on the acres of green fields. Fisherman’s Wharf, Coit Tower, and Union Square bubbled over with tourists clutching bags filled with souvenirs and aiming digital cameras at the city’s many beautiful sites.
The San Francisco Tennis Club was tucked neatly into a corner of the SOMA district. Twelve outdoor courts and twelve climate-controlled indoor courts were packed with club members who could afford the monthly fee. The sound of florescent green tennis balls bouncing off rackets could be heard echoing throughout the facility. A parade of people decked in the latest white and pastel tennis attire flailed and thrashed on the courts, sipped fruit smoothies and mineral waters with twists of lime in the outdoor café, and others shared the latest town gossip in the indoor lounge.
“Deuce!” Raven called out after smashing a tennis ball past Carla’s whizzing racket. Raven returned to the line and studied Carla’s stance as she crouched down and bounced on her toes waiting for Raven’s next serve. Raven bounced the ball two times then tossed it in the air. She sent the ball flying across the court with a powerful blow. A slight tap could be heard as the ball passed the net.
“Net,” Carla called out as the ball whizzed past her.
Raven delivered another serve, which cleared the net and landed to the right of Carla’s racket. She lunged for the speeding ball but missed it by several inches.
“Advantage!” Raven called out.
Carla was able to return the next ball with such force and accuracy that it required Raven to rush to the far left of the court and then to the extreme right with the next. The two women continued the volley with such aggression and precision that other members in the vicinity took notice of the fierce exchange. Two women, equally skilled and prepared for the game locked in a duel to the finish. On one side of the court pampered blond hair tossed from side to side with each blow. On the other, luxurious black locks waved to and fro, challenging with each swing the constraints of an elastic headband.
With one final blow Raven released a grunt and sent the ball streaming past Carla’s reaching racket. The ball slammed the court and in a flash crashed into the green fence behind Carla.
“Game and match!” Raven called out to her panting opponent.
A smattering of applause could be heard from the members who had watched the final point of the match. Raven and Carla walked panting to the side of the court.
“Good game, girl,” Carla said, raising her hand.
“You’re getting too good for me,” Raven replied breathlessly and slapped Carla’s hand in the air. “You’ve been practicing I see. You really made me work for that one.”
The two women gathered their belongings courtside as the next set of players prepared for their game.
“Do you have time for a drink before you go?” Carla asked, stuffing a towel into her gym bag.
Raven looked at her watch. It was 4:10. “Just a quick one. I have to pick up Reva from rehearsal at 5:30. Her drama club is performing a Chekhov play next week.”
“Which one?” Carla asked dabbing her cheeks with her wristband.
“Three Sisters,” Raven replied. “She’s playing Irina.”
Raven and Carla took a table near the courts. A blue canvas umbrella shielded them from the still beaming sun. A waiter in white tennis shorts and a short-sleeved green shirt emblazoned with the club’s logo appeared at their table.
“I hope you enjoyed your game, ladies. Would you like your usual from the bar?”
“Yes, thank you,” Carla answered for both of them.
“Are you and Orpheus going to Mick and Lucy’s anniversary party next week at their ranch in Sonoma?” Carla asked. “Norah Jones is going to perform.”
“I’m not sure. It’s a busy time for us right now.”
“Why, what’s going on? Are you packing for Washington already?”
Raven laughed and said, “Very funny. But of course that is part of it. As a matter of fact I had lunch with Victor Trugonoff today.”
“How did that go? Did he come on to you?”
“No, thank God. He stopped just short of it though.”
“Don’t worry, he will,” Carla said casually. “Miserable old letch. He’s fucked half the women in this town and he’s still working on the other half. Where was Mildred?”
“Paris.”
“She’s no better. That wrinkled old bag will hop on any man who can stay hard after he’s seen her naked. Rich as fuck though. Her grandfather owned the largest silver mine in California in the 1800s. Three generations later and the worthless cows are still living off it, at least the few that didn’t go insane or blow their brains out.”
The waiter returned with two glasses of sparkling water, one with lime for Carla and the other with lemon for Raven.
“What did he want?” Carla asked
“He claims to be one of ten people in the country who select the president,” Raven said with a slight laugh.
“Why are you laughing?” Carla asked, sipping her water. “It’s true, he is one of them.”
Raven leaned into the table. “Why didn’t you tell me this?” she asked, looking Carla directly in the eye.
“I assumed you knew,” Carla said defensively. “Everyone in our circle knows it. We just don’t talk about it.”
“Well I didn’t know. Why don’t people talk about it?”
“Because the last person who started blabbing it around town got a visit from the CIA. Her phones were tapped and their taxes were audited for five years straight by the IRS. Nearly ruined their marriage. Didn’t matter in the long run though. He ran off with their nanny anyway.”
“Goddamn it, Carla, you could have told me,” Raven said angrily. “I’ve been busting my ass all this time and all along this son of a bitch was sitting in my own backyard.”
“Calm down, honey, I didn’t know. Anyway it turned out that you were better off not knowing.”
“Why is that?”
“Because the group has one simple rule. None of the members can be approached by presidential wannabes. If anyone of them suspects they’re being lobbied the person’s name is automatically dropped from the list regardless of how viable a candidate they are. If you’re presidential material they’ll find you and it looks like they found Orpheus, thanks to you.
“I’m still finding this hard to believe,” Raven said. “What about all the Democrats who have been president. How did they get into office?”
“Honey, these people operate outside of the party system. They make their decision based on who they feel will be the best person for the country at the time. It doesn’t matter if they’re a Democrat or a Republican. One word of caution though, Raven.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s always a price that has to be paid,” Carla said, lowering her voice.
“You mean money?”
“Sometimes, but not always. The final test for anyone they select is that person has to give up something of extreme value to them. They feel it proves just how badly the person wants to be president. They believe in order to get something you really want, you have to give up something you love.” Carla reached across the table, covered Raven’s hand and said, “Be careful, honey, you’re dealing with big boys n
ow and they can play rough.”
It was dinner time at the Roulette home. Li Yeng scooped spoonfuls of fluffy mashed potatoes into a bowl and poured sauce into a porcelain gravy boat. She walked into the dining room carrying the potatoes in one hand and a platter of crisp asparagus doused with tarragon cream sauce in the other.
“It smells delicious tonight, Li Yeng,” Orpheus said from the head of the table.
“Thank you, general,” she replied, placing the dishes in the center of the table. “I made your favorite entrée.”
“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”
Raven sat at the opposite end of the table with Little’O between them. “Little’O, where’s your sister?” she asked. “Please go upstairs and tell her to come down right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Reva appeared in the threshold just as Little’O stood from the table.
“There’s my little star,” Orpheus said as Reva took her seat across from Little’O.
“How are your rehearsals going? Have you memorized all your lines?”
“I hate this play,” Reva said with a huff. “It’s so white.”
“We don’t talk like that in this house, young lady,” Orpheus said.
“I’m sorry, Daddy, but it is.”
“Darling, Three Sisters is considered by many to be one of the greatest plays ever written. You should be honored to have been chosen to play a leading role,” Raven said. “We’re very proud of you.”
Li Yeng returned to the room carrying a platter of rosemary, thyme, and sage roasted pork loin and placed it in front of Reva.
Reva saw the meat and sat upright in her chair. “I told you I don’t like pork,” she shouted. “Mother, why do you let her serve me pork?”
“Young lady, I’ve told you about speaking to Li Yeng like that,” Orpheus said sternly. “Now apologize.”
“I will not. She did this on purpose. I hate pork and she knows it.”
“Either you apologize now or you can go to your room without dinner,” Orpheus said, placing both hands firmly on the table.
“Orpheus, don’t be so hard on her,” Raven interjected. “She doesn’t like pork.”