by Nan
“Thank you. But I’ll handle that briefing myself.”
Miller stood up as though addressing his stockholders. “We disassembled tables and chairs for irregularities. Floors, walls, and ceilings are clean. No listening devices, detonators, etc. The AV crew did a search before the electronics people came in. Outlets, phones, lights, etc., were all negative.”
Anders looked at his file. “I’ll assign shift leaders in the morning.” He turned to Birnbaum. “I want Technical Security sweeping for bombs at ten. The sniffer dogs at eleven. No one allowed in after twelve-thirty. No one allowed in or out from twelve-thirty until the man leaves.”
“That may be a little difficult,” Birnbaum said.
“I don’t care. Make sure we can read all phones as soon as the place opens.”
“Ambulances, fire trucks, and the White House Medical Unit will be out front from eleven on.”
“Okay!” Anders shouted. “I want all entry and exit points covered two hours before arrival. Once the Explosive Ordnance people give the all-clear, we have a frozen zone. Birnbaum, how many men at the door?”
“Four.”
“Back door?”
“Four.”
“Upstairs?”
“Two on each floor.”
“Roof?”
“Two SWAT teams.”
“Adjoining?”
“Countersniper teams.”
Birnbaum added, “We already have emergency generators hooked up in the event of a power failure.”
Anders stared at him. “I know that.”
Well, I know something you don’t, Birnbaum thought. I know something you’d give your left ball to find out. Birnbaum put a hand to his forehead. First things first. A taster. Livingstone was the only one without kids. But he had just bought his girl a sexy nightgown and Livingstone was planning to go home for the fuck of his life.
Anders wound up by discussing the dress code: suits, ties, blazers. No guns up their sleeves. That was okay in crowds but not in close contact. Flack vests were to be worn. “You’ll get your pins tomorrow,” he said. “As always, gentlemen, it is what we don’t do that counts.”
Those words had a special meaning for Birnbaum. He couldn’t begin to remember how many times he had used that same phrase. “It’s what we don’t do that counts.” As in, “it’s what we don’t tell that counts.” Certainly, Steven could only be an embarrassment to the White House—under the best of conditions. If no one had found out after all these years, what was the point of telling them now?
Once the room emptied out, Birnbaum went over to Anders. “Why the hell are we going through all this?”
“Because the President wants to have lunch at Libby’s.”
“But why?”
“Who gives a shit?”
“I do! It’s too dangerous! Things can happen. All kinds of unexpected things.”
“You sound just like J. Edgar.”
“I don’t care! Anders, you’ll just have to trust me. There are too many risks.” Birnbaum began to pace. “Listen, it’s simple. You’ve got this window built into his schedule. No one knows where he’s going. There’s no press coverage. We can cancel the whole thing.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Anders, you don’t know protection like I do. You know the White House. Protocol. Limo One. You know the presidential insignia on the doors, and the flags on the fenders. In a city like this, things can happen.”
“There is no car in America safer than the presidential limousine.” Anders spoke softly, as if to a child. “It is bulletproof. It is bombproof. It is a masterpiece of engineering. Do you want him to leave the UN in a Honda?”
“I’m not talking cars!” Birnbaum shouted. “I’m talking about protecting the President. I know it’s not safe for him! I don’t want anything to happen just because you like riding the point seat in that car!”
Anders finally understood Birnbaum. “So that’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Burnout.” Anders put his hand on Birnbaum’s shoulder. “You’re in the midst of a divorce. It happens to all of us. You’ll be okay.”
Birnbaum looked up. Anders was right. He would be okay. Hots would never tell anyone. And as long as Libby didn’t know that he knew, he could keep her secret.
Anders patted Birnbaum on the back. “Go home and get yourself a good night’s sleep.”
“Thanks.”
Anders walked to the door. He turned back and smiled. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Who’s the taster?”
“Me.”
* * *
Libby stood in Birnbaum’s lobby, an enormous bouquet of balloons in one hand, two large shopping bags in the other. The doorman rang Birnbaum on the intercom. “Your delivery is here.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
The doorman looked at Libby. She whispered, “Tell him it’s from the Lotus Inn.”
“It’s from the Lotus Inn,” the doorman said.
Birnbaum’s voice was impatient. “I didn’t order anything from the Lotus Inn!”
“Don’t be dumb, Birnbaum!” Libby shouted into the intercom. “It’s a surprise!”
There was a long pause. “Is that you?”
Libby glanced at the doorman. She didn’t know whether it was or not.
“Hot stuff coming through,” she said, handing Birnbaum the balloons. Libby walked into his apartment, careful to avoid the piles of rubble that had once been walls. “Where did the kitchen used to be?” she asked.
“Somewhere over here.” He smiled at the balloons and led her around a hole in the floor.
“Birnbaum, do you have any holes in the ceiling?”
“No.”
“Then let go of the balloons and take these shopping bags. My fingers are killing me.”
They both watched the balloons rise and bounce once against the ceiling before accepting their limitation. Birnbaum took the shopping bags. “You really went to the Lotus Inn?”
Libby rubbed her hands. “You want a lot of chitchat or you want to eat?”
He put the shopping bags on top of the counter. “I’m just surprised.”
Libby unpacked the take-out containers. “Life is full of surprises.”
He pushed aside a dropcloth to make more room on the counter. Glasses shattered as they hit the floor. “So that’s where they were.”
“How about some champagne?”
“I don’t have any.”
She reached into a shopping bag and lifted out a bottle of Dom Perignon as though it were a white rabbit.
“You really are something.” He tried opening the bottle but couldn’t get his fingernail under the foil. “I was just sitting here watching a rerun of my favorite ‘Lassie’ show when the bell rang. It’s the one where Lassie finds the little calf that was bitten by a rattlesnake.”
Libby grabbed the bottle from him. “Birnbaum, stop yapping and put the cake in the fridge. You do have a fridge?”
He opened the box. The cake had an inscription in pink frosting. “Good Luck Estelle?”
“It was the only party cake they had left. And don’t think it was easy to get. Estelle had just made it for herself.” She held tight to the cork and began twisting the bottle.
“Looks like you thought of everything,” he said unwrapping two glasses.
“Not everything. I forgot a table and chairs.”
Birnbaum put stools on either side of the counter. “Voilà!”
Libby poured the champagne. Suddenly she gasped. “What is wrong with me?” She reached into a bag and took out two party hats and streamers.
Birnbaum put on a hat and opened the streamers. “Great.” He raised his glass. “Okay. I give up.”
Libby threw some confetti in the air. “It’s my engagement party.” She put on her hat. “Cal and I are going to get married again.”
He tapped his glass against hers. Without taking their eyes from one another, they sipped the champagne. Then Birnbaum, forcing a smile, threw a streamer at her. “Congratulati
ons.”
She threw a streamer at him. “Thanks.”
Birnbaum nodded. “This is some terrific party.” Libby shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I guess we might as well dig in. No sense letting all that MSG get cold.”
Like distant relatives at a family gathering neither wished to attend, they stared at each other.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They sat down on opposite sides of the counter. A curtain of balloon strings hung between them.
“Birnbaum, I lied. I’m not okay.” She pulled the balloons down to hide her face.
“You look okay.”
“The hell I do! If I were okay, do you think I’d be sitting here in my coat!”
“Your coat?” He pointed to her orange fox vest. “I didn’t think that was a coat.”
“Actually, it’s a vest.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But it’s also a coat.”
“Let me hang it up for you.”
“Thanks.” Libby fluffed her hair as he walked to the closet. “So, how’s the old chow mein look to you?”
“You want the truth?”
“We’ll never get anywhere if we don’t tell each other the truth, Birnbaum. I, for one, would still be sitting in my coat.”
“Okay,” he said, closing the closet door. “I don’t like the way it looks. It looks different.”
“That’s just what I was thinking.”
“Why don’t we dump it?” he asked.
“Good riddance to bad chow mein.”
He began to laugh. “How about we start from scratch?”
“I have a better idea. Let’s start from itch. I feel like cooking.”
Birnbaum threw the containers into a large metal trash basket. “I warn you. I’m all out of caviar.”
Libby took a sip of champagne. “Well, there must be something.” She opened the refrigerator door and stood there in astonishment. The shelves were crammed with freshly cooked food. Turkey. Ham. Meat loaf. Butter, cream, milk and eggs. Fresh vegetables in the crisper. A bowl filled with fruit. Four cheeses. Three juices. Unopened packages of smoked meat. Jars of stuffed olives, fancy relishes, and imported marmalade. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Don’t ask me. The cleaning lady does all the shopping.”
Libby turned quickly. Her mouth open, she pointed to the piles of rubble separated by paths of newspapers. “You have a cleaning lady?”
“You think the papers get there by themselves? Of course I have a cleaning lady. She comes in twice a week. She dusts the rocks and changes the papers. I’d be lost without her.”
Libby began to laugh. “And she still has time to shop?”
“She does my laundry, makes the bed, puts the cap on the toothpaste and she’s finished. Every Tuesday and Thursday she goes to the market and buys a complete refrigerator full of food. We have an unspoken agreement between us. She takes home the Tuesday food on Thursday and the Thursday food on the following Tuesday.” He smiled. “Everybody needs perks.” He shrugged. “Besides, you never know who’s going to drop in.”
Libby put out her hand, wanting to touch him. Instead, she reached for the champagne.
They clinked glasses, and then stared at each other, wondering what they were celebrating.
“How’d you like to help Mommy make dinner?”
“Sure.”
Libby opened the refrigerator. “You think the cleaning lady would mind if we used some eggs?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re my eggs.” He shrugged. “I can always tell her they broke.”
“Tell her you broke a couple of apples, too.” She took out butter, cream, and a slab of cheddar. “How about putting the other bottle of champagne in the fridge.”
“You drink a lot of this stuff?”
“Everybody needs perks.” She laughed. “You know, Cal and I . . .” She stopped. “I’m sorry.” Libby turned away. “The champagne was for Cal. I was going to surprise him at the hospital. Cake. Hats. It was going to be such a wonderful party.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t feel very festive and I was afraid Cal would see through me.”
“But I wouldn’t?”
She smiled. “You don’t matter, Birnbaum. You’re going to walk out of my life after lunch tomorrow.”
“So it doesn’t matter whether I see through you or not.”
“Don’t read me my rights, Birnbaum.”
“What do you think? I’m some kind of hardship case. You think I’m so desperate I’ll let anybody in?”
“Oh, shit. I thought you were the one frog who didn’t give a damn about being a prince.”
“You really think I’m flattered because you came here?”
“Are you?”
“What are you crazy? Of course, I am!”
“It has nothing to do with my feelings about Cal. I just needed to be out of it for a while.”
He raised his arms. “Mi casa es su casa.”
“You know why I like it here, Birnbaum? It’s like being stranded in a transit lounge. There’s only a few hours left before your plane leaves for the North Pole and my plane leaves for the South Pole.”
“We can still write.”
“You know what I mean? You meet a perfect stranger and pour your heart out.”
Birnbaum shook his head. “Do me a favor. Don’t pour your heart out. I’m not perfect.”
“What’s wrong with a little truth if it makes the time pass?”
“North Pole. South Pole.”
“Birnbaum, what if I told you I was scared to death?”
Birnbaum put his hands on Libby’s shoulders. He forced her to look up at him. “Don’t tell me.”
Libby leaned close and spoke softly. “I want to make my omelette.”
He smiled. “Did I tell you I hated eggs?”
“No.”
“I hate eggs.”
“Not my eggs.” She handed him an apple. “Can you peel this?”
“Did Columbus find India?”
Libby heated butter and sugar in a pan. “I need the apple cored, quartered and sliced paper thin.”
“You expect me to cut my fingers to shreds? Listen, how about if I shoot it instead?”
Libby took Birnbaum’s hand and curled his fingers toward his palm. They stared at one another. “This is the way . . .” She stopped speaking and put a hand to her forehead.
“Headache?”
“Worse. Déjà vu.”
“I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me,” he said nervously.
Libby took hold of Birnbaum’s hand. “He said he was afraid of cutting his fingers. Just the way you did.”
“Welcome aboard Flight Zero to Disaster.”
“I showed him how to curl his fingers under at the second joint.”
Birnbaum couldn’t resist. He held up his hand. “Like this?”
“He put his arms around me.”
“Like this?”
She gasped as Birnbaum circled her waist. “I gasped.”
“And then?”
“I couldn’t believe it. I was cooking my Apple Pie Omelette for a senator.”
“What else do you remember?”
“I leaned back against him.”
As Libby leaned back against Birnbaum, he whispered into her ear. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“Suddenly he was kissing me on the back of the neck.”
Birnbaum kissed her on the back of the neck. “You have the right to a lawyer during questioning.”
“I don’t remember how we got into the bedroom.” Libby followed Birnbaum as he led her into the bedroom. She hesitated. “Did I tell you I was scared to death?”
“Anything you say can, and will, be used against you.” He leaned close and kissed her.
“Birnbaum, I need someone to save me.”
He kissed her again. “Saving is my business.”
“But you’re the one I need
protection from.”
Birnbaum smiled. “There is no protection from me. I’m about as high up in the protection racket as you can get.” He dimmed the light. His hand reached for the zipper on her jump suit. “I am authorized by law to protect the President of the United States.”
As he pulled the zipper all the way down, Libby asked, “The Vice President, too?”
Birnbaum put his hands on her bare shoulders, nudging the jump suit to fall to her ankles. “And the immediate families of the President and Vice President.”
Libby began unbuttoning his shirt. “Who else?”
“The President-elect and the Vice President-elect.”
She slipped the shirt back over his shoulders. “And?”
Birnbaum unhooked her bra, barely touching her skin. He leaned toward her, stopping the instant he felt her nipples against his chest. “A former President and his wife during his lifetime.”
Libby opened his belt buckle and reached for the zipper. “Who else?”
“The widow of a former President until her death or remarriage.” Birnbaum’s trousers dropped to the floor.
“Anybody else?” Libby stepped out of her jump suit. She wore pink lace panties.
Birnbaum kicked aside his trousers and faced her in his Sears Perma-Prest briefs. He smiled. “Major presidential and vice presidential candidates.”
“Is that it?”
“No.” Like a nervous safecracker, he rubbed the tips of each thumb against his forefingers just before taking hold of her pink lace panties. He knelt and then slowly lowered them. Birnbaum pressed his cheek against Libby’s thigh. As he stood up, his eyes followed her body from toe to head. His voice was thick. “All visiting heads of foreign states or foreign governments.”
Libby stared into his eyes as she pulled down his shorts. She stepped back and put a finger on his lips. Very slowly, she traced an imaginary line down his lips and chin, onto his chest, pausing to circle his navel, then along the dark strands leading to his pubic hair. “So this is the body that stops the bullet.”
From the moment Libby and Birnbaum got into bed, they inhaled and tasted each other like two hungry animals savoring the kill. Neither knew for certain who was the predator and who was the prey. They exchanged roles cautiously, effortlessly, then willingly as they became one another’s secret dream and worst fear come true. Holding tight, they bit and licked each other, pausing to kiss only when the temptation to speak became too strong.