by James Abel
“But this is different. You work for her; I don’t.”
“Don’t you? Seems like she pretty much tells both of us what to do and when to do it.”
“That’s my point. I’m sick and tired of being manipulated. Besides, I saw some things back at the house that…”
Travis held up his arms and said, “Stop. I don’t want to know. I’m just here to bring you home.”
“What if I won’t go with you. Then what?”
“Well, then you’ll probably be reading my obit in the papers. That is, if they ever find my body.”
Blue frowned and said, “Don’t you dare say that! It can’t be that bad.”
Travis laughed and said, “Hey. Don’t make me find out the hard way.”
Travis looked Blue up and down said, “By the way, love the new look! Blond hair…that blue streak…jeans and sneaks. Going incognito, I take it?”
“I guess. But this is also who I really am. Outside of Warring’s World, my name is Blue. It’s the name I prefer, and the only one I used up until the day she adopted me.”
“Okay, Blue. Then that’s what I’ll call you, at least when your mom’s not around.”
Travis heard footsteps coming down the steps and started to reach for his gun as he asked, “Who’s that?”
“Relax, it’s Peanut. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. Peanut!” He smiled.
Peanut reached the bottom of the steps, turned the corner, and froze when she saw Travis. She was in her late teens, stood less than five feet tall, and weighed barely 100 pounds. She had thin, shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair that was pulled back with a single hair tie and thin, bird-like lips. Like a mistreated rescue dog, there was a nervous insecurity about her that couldn’t be missed. Blue moved past Travis and put her arm around Peanut and said, “It’s okay. You remember Travis. Don’t you?”
Travis chimed in, “Yeah, you remember me!”
Peanut quietly said, “I do. You’re the man who helped me.”
Blue said, “That’s right. And he’s here to help us again. Okay?”
Peanut, who had buried her eyes in the floor, looked up, got a worried look on her face, and said, “But we don’t need help now. Do we?”
Blue said, “Maybe not, but we can talk about that later.”
Travis, noticing the brown Arby’s bag, said, “Yeah. Let’s talk about that later. Right now, it looks like you guys were getting ready for dinner, so how about if I take both of you beautiful young ladies out. You name the place. I’m buying!”
A smile crossed Peanut’s lips and, glancing at Blue, she said, “I love the hot dogs at The Varsity.”
Blue smiled and gave Travis a nod. Travis said, “Okay. Then The Varsity it is. Let’s go.”
Blue looked at Peanut and said, “Since we’re going out, why don’t you run upstairs and put on those new jeans I got you the other day. I think they look so cool on you.”
Peanut smiled and said, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as Peanut left the kitchen and walked up the steps, Travis looked at Blue and asked, “What’s with her? She doesn’t look so hot.”
“That’s why I sent her upstairs. I wanted you to know that she’s fighting some kind of lymphoma.”
“Sorry to hear that. Is she getting treatment?”
“Sort of. I mean she’s seeing a doctor at a local clinic, but I don’t think she’s getting the kind of quality help she really needs. I went with her last time, and I don’t know. I wasn’t impressed, if you know what I mean.”
“So, is that why you came here, because she was sick?”
“No. I mean, yes. I guess so. We’ve stayed in touch ever since she moved out of the foster home when she turned 18, but it’s only been a month since she told me she was sick.”
“I may be out of line here, but you need to bring her back with us. With your mom’s connections, she can get her the best help in the country.”
Blue nodded her head. “Yeah, I know.”
Peanut could be heard coming back down the steps. Blue put her finger to her mouth and whispered, “We’ll talk later.”
Peanut turned the corner, and Travis held out his arms and said, “Come on, girls, turn around, out the door! Let’s go get some hotdogs. They have booze at this place, don’t they?”
CHAPTER 4
Inside the master bedroom of a gentleman’s farmhouse overlooking Oneida Lake in western New York, the alarm on Jim Nichols’s cell phone went off. Judge Jim, as he liked to be called, was 74 years of age and was fighting severe arthritis, likely brought on by a lifetime of daily running, biking, and hiking. In spite of that, he looked to be in good shape and had light blue eyes and a full head of thick silver hair. He glanced over at Barbara, his wife of 52 years, saw that she was sound asleep, and quietly maneuvered his way out of bed and turned off the alarm. He showered and shaved, put on an old pair of khakis and a golf shirt, and pulled on some slip-on shoes. He figured at the age of 74, what he wore under his judge’s robe was his own damn business.
The judge had to be 120 miles away in Albany by 10:00 a.m., when the New York states Court of Appeals, the highest court in the state, was going into session to hear the opening arguments regarding the constitutionality of the New York LUV Act. Judge Jim, as he liked to be called, was the last remaining conservative on the court, a consequence of New York law whereby the governor fills vacancies for the 14-year terms, and New York hadn’t seen a Republican governor since 2006.
After a quick breakfast of bacon, eggs, and orange juice, the judge glanced out the window and saw a black limo pull into his driveway. Up until the past year, he had always insisted on making the drive himself. But after several minor fender benders and a continued deterioration in his eyesight, Barbara had convinced him to use the state-provided driving service. He walked upstairs, nudged Barbara awake, and said, “See you tonight. I’m off to the court room.”
Barbara forced her eyes open, smiled, and said, “Okay, honey. Give me a call when you’re on your way home.”
Judge Jim nodded, said, “Will do,” and headed out to the car.
When he got there, he saw an unfamiliar man holding the back door open. The man, seeing the puzzled look on the judge’s face said, “Good morning, sir. I’m Frank. Anthony wasn’t feeling good this morning, so they asked me to fill in. I hope that’s all right with you.”
The judge smiled and said, “Of course it is. Nice to meet you, Frank. Just get me there on time—without any speeding tickets.”
Frank returned the smile and said, “You got it, sir.” He closed the judge’s door and walked around to the driver’s side.
An hour later, well down the road on I-90, Frank adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see the judge and said, “By the way, there’s a bottle of water in the cooler back there if you’d like. Anthony told me to take good care of you.”
The judge smiled and said, “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Then, the Judge reached down, opened the cooler, pulled out the ice-chilled plastic bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a drink.
*******
At about the time that Judge Jim arrived in Albany, Travis pulled up in front of the house where Blue and Peanut were staying to pick them up for the ride back to Milledgeville. The night before, he had spoken to Governor Warring, and she had agreed to let him stay in Atlanta for the night.
Inside, Blue was upstairs helping Peanut pack her clothes. Pulling some jeans and T-shirts out of the small chest of drawers, she glanced at Peanut and said, “Come on, show me a smile. It’s gonna be different this time. You’re not going into one of my mom’s foster homes. You and I are gonna be in the same house—the governor’s house! And my mom promised me that she’d get you all the medical attention you need.”
Peanut flashed a weak smile and said, “I know you’re right, but I’m still not sure.”
Blue stopped what she was doing, sat down on the bed, patted her hand next to her, and said, “Come here. Sit down.”
Peanut sat down and Blue put her arm around her shoulder and said, “I know what’s bothering you, and what that man did to you last year. I can’t make it better. But it wasn’t my mom’s fault. He was just an evil man who somehow slipped through the cracks. He’s long gone by now. I promise.”
Peanut didn’t answer. Her head dropped, and she started to cry.
Blue held her in her arms and softly said, “I know honey. I know.”
An hour later, Travis and Blue were in the front seat of the BMW, 15 minutes into the 90-minute drive to Milledgeville. Peanut was sound asleep, sprawled out in the rear. During the time Blue had been staying with Peanut, she had often seen Peanut struggle to stay awake for more than a couple of hours at a time. Blue checked on Peanut and then turned to Travis and said, “Listen, I need to tell you some things… whether you want to hear them or not. It has to do with my mother.”
Travis took his eyes off the road for a second, looked at Blue, and said, “Jessie—I mean Blue—please don’t put me in the middle. My job is family security—period. I’m not part of your mother’s political inner circle, and I don’t want to be. You understand. Don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. But I have to tell someone, so please, hear me out. This will stay just between you and I. I swear.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“Good. So, have you ever been allowed down into my mom’s war room—the one in the basement?”
“Nope. I’m not allowed on that floor. The only way down there is that new elevator she had put in, and I don’t have the security clearance to use it.”
“I’m not allowed down there either. At least, not officially.”
Travis cut her off, “Whoa, I don’t like where this is going.”
“Okay, then. I’ll tell you about that some other time. But I know you’ve been in the back foyer up on the main floor, just outside our living quarters.”
“Of course. I make regular security rounds up there. You know that.”
“Then you’re familiar with that back door, where you can come in from the backyard?”
Travis nodded and said, “Sure.”
“About a month ago, maybe about two in the morning, I couldn’t sleep, so I walked down the hall from my bedroom and opened the door to the foyer. I was headed out to the sitting room to work on my book.”
“And?”
“I saw one of mom’s security team holding the back door open for someone.”
“So what? That’s where most of your mother’s political visitors come and go. They pull around back where there’s more privacy.”
“I know. But what if I told you that the visitor I saw was the President of the United States, the current one?”
“What the fuck! Sorry, I mean—oh, shit. You know what I mean. There’s no way. Why would the President pay a visit to the very person who’s about to oust him from office? Impossible. You must have been dreaming or something, Why the hell are you telling me this anyway?”
Blue, who loved to get Travis worked up, laughed and said, “Ha! I knew that’s how you’d react!.”
“Well, then stop talking about it. Do yourself a favor. Forget whatever it is you saw, and never mention it to your mother. You hear me?”
Blue smiled smugly and said, “I understand. But I’ve seen more than that.” She gave him a poke in the arm and asked, “Wanna know what else?”
Travis started singing out loud, “La la la la, I can’t hear you.”
Blue laughed for a minute and then went silent. Travis refocused on his driving.
Several minutes passed before Travis said, “Listen, Blue. We go way back, you and I, and I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
Blue nodded and said, “I do.”
“Well, then, be careful and stay out of your mom’s political life. Up until now, you’ve been a big asset to her. For your own sake, keep it that way. Understood?”
“Yeah. Understood.”
Ten minutes of silence followed before Blues said,” Why do you think she is the way she is?”
“What are you talking about? You mean her personality or what?”
“Of course. Have you ever seen her tell a joke, smile, hold a two-way conversation like a normal person? All I ever get are directives.”
“Well, since you put it that way, I can’t say as I have. But since you brought it up, I might be able to give you a little insight into why she is the way she is.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. About 10 years ago, in fact just before she adopted you, she called me one night. It was back when she was still living at the family estate in Buckhead.”
“And?”
“And she asked me to drive over to her place. She said she wanted to talk.”
“Oh, this is getting good!”
“So when I got there, I could tell right away she had a few too many martini’s under her belt. She makes me one, tells me to sit down, and for the next hour I had to listen to her life story.”
“Go on!”
“All she did was complain about how her mother never loved her. She told me that growing up, she was the apple of her daddy’s eye and because of that, her mother resented her. There she sat, a beautiful, single billionaire with the entire world by the balls, and all she could do was feel sorry for herself.”
“Wow. I never knew any of that! Did she ever mention it to you again?”
“No, and thank God! I can’t stand people that spend their entire lives feeling sorry for themselves.”
“Understood. But it is sad, nonetheless.”
“Yeah, real sad!”
A half-hour later, they pulled into the driveway at the governor’s mansion. Blue knew that the reunion with her adoptive mother was not going to be pleasant.
CHAPTER 5
It was a beautiful, fall day on the Cornell University campus in Ithaca, New York. The leaves on the trees had turned brilliant shades of yellows and reds, and the sun had finally dried out the stubborn dew that had covered the grass all morning. Students were pouring into Bailey Hall, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Jessie Warring. This was the final stop on her speaker’s tour through all the Ivy League schools and a few other top schools on the east coast, including Duke, Bucknell, and Lehigh University.
The big turnout wasn’t just because she was the daughter of Heather Warring. Jessie had built quite a following as the national poster child for all that could be accomplished when underprivileged kids, especially women, were given a fair shake in society. While the marketing was subtle, the speaking tour was designed to showcase Governor Warring’s strong commitment in this area by reminding potential voters about her charitable foundation—Warring’s Women of America. The WWA, as it was generally referred to, had been established and funded with Warring family money. Its mission was to ensure that underprivileged young women throughout America would have access to the same general living and academic standards as were available to the wealthy.
The backbone of the WWA was a national network of foster homes, each equipped with state-of-the art educational programs, instructors, nutritional programs, and initiatives focused on building self-esteem. Over the years, WWA had developed close ties to many local governments and other charitable organizations to help identify young girls who could be helped.
For the past five years, Heather Warring had tirelessly focused media attention on all the good that WWA had accomplished, and she had used Jessie, her adopted daughter, as the centerpiece of the political strategy. It had become common knowledge that Jessie Warring had been plucked off the streets of Savannah as a homeless 15-year-old and had gone on to graduate from Princeton University with high honors, sit on the boards of various charities all across the country, and was about to publish a motivational book for young women.
But one of Heather Warring’s most closely guarded secrets was the fact that Jessie had been very carefully pre-screened before her adoption ever took place. Warring had commissioned extensive background checks on
Jessie’s past, her physical health, and her mental acuity. Warring knew that Jessie’s IQ was north of 145, and that she was physically healthy, very attractive, self-assured, and mature well beyond her age. Perhaps most importantly, Warring also knew that Blue had not spent years on the streets of Savannah or in various foster homes. Blue had actually spent the greater part of her young life in a stable home environment with her father who owned a small but successful restaurant and her stay-at-home mom. It was only after her mother had died of cancer, and her dad died of alcohol poisoning after drowning his sorrows in a liquor bottle that Jessie had ended up in foster care.
In reality, Jessie Warring was an extremely flawed “proof of concept” for Warring’s Women of America. But Heather Warring wasn’t concerned. The nation’s mainstream news media was not about to rat out Heather Warring. She was the new darling of the left, and the WWA was a key foundational block in her plan to become President of the United States.
As students streamed into Bailey Hall, Molly Nichols, a 22-year-old graduate assistant in Cornell’s College of Arts and Sciences, worked her way through the crowd toward her reserved seat in the second row.
Molly was a five-foot-four-inch tall strawberry blond with light blue eyes and a beautiful smile. Always full of energy, today she was in extra high gear, anxious to hear what Jessie Warring had to say. In fact, Molly was one of the event’s coordinators.
As Molly took her seat, she could feel the electricity in the air. The buzz in the audience was almost deafening, perhaps aided by the high level of security that was moving into place. Men in black suits wearing earbuds were taking positions on both sides of the stage, down on the floor in front of the stage, and at all the back exits. Their presence served as a reminder that those in attendance were about to hear from the daughter of the leading presidential candidate.
As Molly settled in to her seat, the dean of students walked to the podium and welcomed the audience. She then read off the long list of Jessie Warring’s achievements, including her role as the spokesperson for the WWA, her academic credentials, the book she was working on, and the numerous charitable boards she served on. The dean ended her introductory remarks by saying, “Without further ado, I am honored to welcome to Cornell University an amazing young woman who has overcome extreme adversity and, in so doing, provides an example of how women of all socioeconomic backgrounds can become leaders in the new women-centric America that’s unfolding before our very eyes. Please join me in welcoming Jessie Warring to our stage.”