by Doug Walker
CHAPTER TWENTY
Katrina only exploded once when he returned to Washington. She conceded that she had missed him, was even apprehensive, but life with Cook, the nannies and the twins wasn’t bad. They had found a harmonious note and life went on in a dreamy rhyme.
At the White House things weren’t that easy. He fell under the President’s serious eye. She said she had half a mind to turn him around and send him right back to Mongolia.
“Have you ever had it all?” he asked her.
“Had it all? Had all of what?” she asked, immediately suspicious that something was up.
“Simply, had it all. You know, like Bogey and Bacall. Everything comes together. A preacher once told me that heaven is when everything is going right. On down the line, everything humming along, no stress, no straining at the elbows.”
He had thrown a curve ball into the conversation. “What brought this on?”
“I had it all in Mongolia.”
“You enjoy being mugged?”
“No. But afterward I lived in a yurt with a 27-year-old woman, her mother plus a goat, several chickens and a kitchen garden. That’s all a person needs.”
“Other than money. You were the cock of the walk with that 27-year-old in tow. Having it all seems generally to equate with sex when it comes to men. You’d flip over a younger woman.”
“She imagined she was past her prime, a flower spent.”
The President laughed. “You must have cajoled her back in the mood. So you could have returned instantly if you’d called me. Instead it was raw sex under cover of yurt.”
“You’ll never understand the simple pleasures in life. The great flow of the seasons, agriculture, the good earth, embraced by nature, a man worthy of his hire.”
“You weren’t hired by anyone except me and the American people. And you’re the farthest thing from nature boy, the bib overall brigade, imaginable. You’ve got it all alright, right here in the White House, and if you screw up again with your Asiatic call girls you can throw away the shithouse, ’cause your ass will belong to me.”
That’s crude, Madame President. Quite unseemly.” Orson stifled a chuckle. “What’s next on our busy agenda? You and I against the world?”
“And a cruel one it is. I’ll give you one more night with Katrina. Then we’ll pull an all-nighter in my quarters and talk strategy.”
“Can we make s’mores?”
“Screw you. Get out of my sight.”
There was Katrina to deal with. She had led a cultured life and failed to approach the earthy qualities of the President. Orson could imagine the head of state sitting in the backroom of a poolroom smoking stogies and bantering obscenities.
He managed three nights at home with the crowd. He and Katrina shopped for special food – lobster, porterhouse steaks, Frosted Flakes for the tykes. Not to mention the requisite fruit and vegetables. Plus cobbler and ice cream.
Then there came the all-nighter at the White House, which seemed to make his life complete. Not that the daily grind was not challenging. He brought along a sack of small flat pretzels, heavily salted, which they both enjoyed in addition to the usual chips, salsa and semi-liquid cheese.
Right out of the chute, the President said, “I’d like a lot of money.”
“You have a fairly well-paying job,” Orson replied, opening his sack of pretzels. He then poured each of them a glass of wine.
“I also have thousands in campaign contributions, but that’s a no-no for personal expenses. I’m talking real money, millions.”
“You have some reason to bring this up?”
“I can talk with Katrina. In fact I have. While you were gone, she called. Concerned. We chatted and got along like ham and eggs.”
“Or peanut butter and jelly?”
“Something along those lines. We discussed your household. I think I would fit right in.”
Orson had seldom been shocked, or at a loss for words, but this came close. He preferred to be in control. But in truth he was dealing with what had been called the leader of the free world, no slouch.
After a pregnant silence, he asked, “You want to move in with us?”
Mary dipped a pretzel in cheese, took a sip of wine and said, “No. The contrary is more to the point, not that I would welcome that unruly group to the White House. What I’m suggesting is that we, that’s me and your extended family, could find a place of our own, perhaps a compound. I simply do not want to live life alone and I see no prospects beyond my current position.”
“I’ll not trouble you with geographic locations, knowing full well that you embrace the pioneer spirit. But there is something lurking just below the surface here. What might that be?”
“Money, tons of money. We must contrive to build up a substantial amount of cash, millions in cash.”
“You throw that word ‘we’ around quite recklessly, one might say with gay abandon. You and I will raid Fort Knox and carry off the bullion in flour sacks?”
“You lack subtlety.”
“Then shall we edge into the mint for a bale of C-notes?”
“Those things have all passed through my brain and been rejected. I am not in the position I’m in by accident. It took work, deals, conniving and sometimes blatant honesty.”
“The honesty part is nice. In that case you won’t need my services.” He refilled their glasses and dipped nacho into salsa.
“Au contraire. We will plot this together. I have no desire to age as a political figure. Serve a second term, become the grand old lady, decay and demise before my time due to stress or maybe even assassination. No, go for the main chance. Take the money and run.”
“And the money?” Orson inquired.
“That’s up to you and I. We will plot together.”
“Then purchase a castle in the air for my brood plus you. Will I enjoy that?”
“Of course you will. Now hear this. The first thought that entered my mind was simply to steal money. There’s a lot of it lying about. Our beloved military-industrial complex sees to that. Military contracts, military toys, useless weapons. Then it crossed my mind to simply have people give us the money. No strings attached.”
“Selling bridges or highway projects?”
“Good thought. I like a man who can use his brain.”
“I have several.”
“The jury’s still out on that one after your Mongolian caper. But peddling government contracts smacks of corruption.”
“It also smacks of federal prison.”
“Right you are. How much do you think the presidency is worth?”
Orson laughed loud and fairly long. “You intend to sell the White House?”
“I’m not going to place a sign in the front yard or place it on Multiple Listings. The thing is I could easily win a second term. Common knowledge. I already have the campaign funds. Some left over from last time, some trickling in. So who’s to oppose me? There are two or three members of my own party who would like the job and as many in the opposition. All good candidates until proven otherwise. So what if I’m teetering on the edge and could go either way?”
Orson nodded. He was beginning to get the picture. “What about the vice president,” he questioned. “What if you resigned?”
“He’s a prime jerk,” Mary replied. “A total political animal. He was picked because he’s from the Southwest and there’s a famous photo of him brandishing a six-gun. He would be putty in the hands of any number of lobbyists, all of whom would make under-the-table deals to get him into office. That’s the beauty part. The downside is he couldn’t be reelected and the cognoscenti know that. So there you have it. Video at eleven.”
“I see possibilities,” Orson said. “But it’s the second part of the plan that troubles me. For one thing, you know what my plans are for the twins.”
“I do indeed. Those plans involve tedious home schooling. Maybe boarding school later on, somewhere in Switzerland perhaps?”
“That’s true. Tutors as far as the eye can see.
That would take care of that. But I am married to Katrina. A second woman in the house might be a poser.”
“For Chrissake, Orson. You already have Cook and a couple of nannies, plus one female twin, your protégé. The boy would be mine and Katrina’s, plus nannies yet untold. Leave Katrina to me. The plan stays you rustically at home. No more wild roving.”
“Your plan, which falls lightly from your lips, will require some heavy lifting. I’ll not be your bag man.”
“Of course not, Orson. Katrina will take care of that.”
His mouth was almost agape. “You’re involving Katrina in your sordid plan?”
“There is nothing illegal about it. If certain individuals want to throw some cash my way so I can retire from public service, so what?”
“The so what is that you are the President. Not the county dogcatcher. The money would be little more than a bribe.”
“You plan your life, Orson. Let Katrina and I plan ours.”
Faced with such a stunning turn-around, Orson refilled the glasses and suggested they would have to crack another bottle. He turned his concentration to the small flat pretzels and dithered between semi-liquid cheese and spicy salsa, which wasn’t really spicy.
He frowned and said, “Why don’t you get some salsa that has a tang to it?”
“When we get this thing settled, Katrina has agreed to a part-time job in my office. She will not be on the regular payroll to avoid the scent of nepotism.”
“Oh, swell. Who ever heard of nepotism among folks nursing on the public tit? So she’ll be working in the office, maybe licking stamps or teaching the other secretaries, or should I call them danseuse, à la seconde, arabesque, en croix, fondu, grand pas or revoltade.”
“What a string of phony French. I admire you.” She had brought out a second bottle and Orson fought the cork out.
“Everyone a legitimate term, I assure you. One of my weaknesses is a memory for trivia. I could reel off a dozen more.”
“Please don’t.”
“These all-nighters plus the specter of sharing some sort of villa raises its unwholesome head. Katrina and I are man and wife with all the joys, despair and heartaches that brings down. Why borrow more trouble.”
“Perhaps I should plain speak. I’ve hinted at it. Katrina and I have reached an agreement to share you, possibly even share one another.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Orson asked.
“Because it sets you free. Katrina is a highly cultured individual with a keen mind and a well-honed sense of humor. We three together along with the rest of the household. Call it destiny. Call it kismet.”
Orson laughed and bolted half a glass of fresh wine. “Call it idiocy. Call it a road map to disaster. Call it a psychological mine field.”
“Did I mention that we three are intelligent human beings?”
“I believe you covered that.”
“Then can you endure such a relationship.”
“Of course. I can endure dental work with the proper sedatives. It’s not myself that worries me.”
“Then trust me. Katrina and I know exactly what we’re doing. The three of us will spend long winter nights by the glow of a cheerful fire, little feet scampering here and there, candles glow, pass the pipe, pass the bowl. I can see our future unrolling before us.”
“I’m in. We don’t need much money. The three of us already have enough.”
“But I want more,” Mary asserted. “Much more. I’m not leaving this town the way I came in, begging for approval.”
“You’ll yearn for power when it’s gone.”
“I’ve had power for years. Beginning in the state house, then the state senate, then the U.S. Senate. I know what I want now. I want to help rear a couple of practical spies.”