"But..." The agent looked into a pair of very unamused, slate-gray eyes, and her protest died on her lips.
The blonde turned back to see Ashley and Gremlin happily bounding toward her. As they stepped into the hall Lauren heard Agent Hamlin speaking behind them. "Princess and Mighty Mouse are on the move. We're headed out to walk the dog."
Mighty Mouse? Mighty Mouse! Oooo, Devlyn Marlowe, they had better not have gotten that moniker from you. Then she laughed at what David had covertly suggested the Secret Service call Devlyn. As Lauren followed behind Ashley and Gremlin she hoped her name didn't fit as well as Devlyn's. A wry smile pulled at her lips. Hope your meetings are going okay, Wonder Woman.
Friday, February 26th
They were sitting in Devlyn's living room. Exhausted. Lauren looked at her watch. It was almost midnight, and they had been up since five in the morning. Almost twenty hours straight. She glanced into the face of the woman across from her, watching as she sipped a tall glass of milk.
Dev shoved a plate of cookies at Lauren. She sighed and propped her feet on the coffee table. The fireplace was gently glowing, but Dev didn't think the flames were responsible for the dark shadows under Lauren's eyes. It had been a bear of a day, and she herself was drained to the bone. "Tired?" she asked needlessly.
Lauren looked at her like she was crazy, but answered the rhetorical question anyway. "Heck, yeah. I'm dead." The writer stared into her glass of milk with mild distaste. She hadn't drunk milk since she was a little girl. What was Emma's obsession with the white liquid? When they'd walked into the living room the older woman, with her hair up in rollers that had to be antiques, simply pressed the cold glasses into their hands and then marched off to bed without another word. Weird.
"I don't know how you do it day in and day out. I don't know how I follow you day in and day out." The shorter woman yawned. "And I'm not sure how we're going to survive four years." She picked up several double-stuffed Oreos and sat them in her lap, not giving a rat's ass about the black crumbs on her crème-colored skirt. That's why God invented dry cleaning. She passed the plate back to Dev.
"Today actually got a little out of hand, and you know it." Blue eyes rolled. "That little fit the Secretary of Defense threw was quite unexpected, and it totally FUBARed my schedule."
"That man," Lauren plucked up a hapless Oreo and twisted it apart, digging out the impossibly sweet, creamy filling with her teeth, "is an ass."
Dev shrugged, dunking her own cookie in her milk until is was properly soaked. "He hates me."
"Then he's a bigger ass than I thought. Why does he hate you?" Lauren moaned a little as she sipped her milk. It was actually good. Who knew?
"Because," Devlyn quickly popped the soggy cookie in her mouth, sucking out the milk before swallowing, "and these are his words, not mine –," Dev affected a heavy Bostonian accent, "– 'She's queer as a three dollar bill'."
"All that fuss today was because you're gay?"
The tall woman snorted. "Lots of people hate me because I'm gay." She sipped her milk as an evil grin crossed her lips, nearly causing the milk to drip out of her mouth. Dev leaned forward just a bit and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I want the Federal Treasury to print three dollar bills just to piss him off."
Lauren burst out laughing, and was only able to keep from spraying Devlyn with cookie crumbs by slapping her palm over her mouth. An impish smile twitched at her lips. "You might not want to start out with something so drastic. Maybe you could start small? Like with a Devlyn Marlowe rainbow postage stamp?" I know I'd buy a book. Then Lauren's face grew serious. "Why have a cabinet member who hates you?" She glanced down enviously at Dev's feet.
Dev made a show of wiggling her happy, socked toes. "Please do. And, by the way, you have to be dead before they put you on a stamp. I don't want to give him that much satisfaction."
Somewhat hesitantly, Lauren pushed off her low-heeled pumps. She sighed with relief at the feeling of the soft, cool carpet against her nylon-covered toes.
"C'mon," Dev encouraged, wiggling her feet again. "It's always better on the coffee table."
"You're sure?"
"Oh, please. This one didn't belong to George Washington either." She reached down and wrapped her fingers around Lauren's ankles.
The younger woman yelped at the unexpectedly cold hands.
"Sorry." Dev gestured at the glass of icy milk she'd been holding. "My fingers aren't normally cold."
Lauren remembered their hug from the week before. "I know."
"Now, back to your question." Dev smiled, looking at their feet sitting side-by-side on the coffee table. She has cute feet.
"Yes?" Lauren prompted, wondering why Dev was staring at her feet.
"Right. Why have cabinet members who hate me? Well, it took a lot, and I mean a lot, of dealing to get me here. I agreed to put people in important positions in return for support within the Emancipation Party itself. It got me the Presidential nomination and then four years of putting up with assholes like Secretary of Defense Brendwell. It's a political game. And that's how it's played." She drowned another cookie.
"I see," Lauren answered thoughtfully. But she didn't really. At least not until that very moment. "So, you're not only fighting the Democrats and the Republicans... you have to worry about your own people too?"
"Well, sort of. My party supports me now. It would be stupid for them not to. A lot of sacrifices were made along the way. I've got a lot more enemies around here than friends. The friends I do have are the key. David, for example. He's a Democrat," she sighed. "So he's my deal man. He can cross party lines and not look like a total phony. I also trust him with my life."
Lauren mumbled her agreement. If the public knew how much influence David, and even Jane, really had, America would have a collective heart attack. But Washington was a shark tank, and Devlyn needed a few friendly sharks swimming in her waters to make sure she didn't get eaten alive. Lauren turned her head slightly, watching as the President shoveled in what had to be her twentieth cookie.
Dev stopped mid-bite. "What?"
"You don't ever have to watch your weight, do you?" she asked enviously. "I think I hate you."
Given the opportunity, Dev gave Lauren's toned body a thorough once-over. "I don't think you have anything to be complaining about, Ms. Strayer," she teased, but had to drag her eyes back up to meet Lauren's. "Trust me, with the way we move around, very soon you will learn to eat anything and everything that is put before you. And you won't gain an ounce. In fact, you've lost a little already, haven't you?"
Lauren blinked. "Only five pounds." She arched an eyebrow. "Are you spying on my scale?"
"No," Dev laughed. I'm just noticing everything about you. "But that's the cool part about being here. Suddenly, all food is good for you. You'll need all the extra energy you can find to get through marathon days like this one." She popped another cookie into her mouth, along with another deep swallow of milk. "Besides, I don't have to bother keeping track of my weight. All of America is watching it for me. Three hundred and twenty million people are all interested in how wide my ass will get in four years."
Lauren made a face. "Well, all America may be watching your ass. But no one is watching mine."
Dev grinned. "I wouldn't say that." In a heartbeat, her faced flushed a deep red, and she covered her eyes with her hands. "I'm... ah... I..." Dev scrubbed her face, trying to erase the blush. "I cer... certainly didn't mean to say something as out of line as that." She shook her head. "Sometimes I wonder how I made it this far. David's right; open mouth, insert foot." Worriedly, she peeked between her fingers and saw Lauren's indulgent smile. "I'm sorry." Dev really wanted to kick her own ass right now. God, I can't remember ever being this embarrassed!
Lauren just laughed, enjoying the rosy tint of Dev's cheeks. Was the woman actually flirting? "It's all right, Dev. Just a little slip of the tongue, right?"
Dev's eyes widened slightly, and her blush deepened. "Yeah," she croaked, bringing he
r glass to her lips.
How am I even going to maintain the pretense of any professional distance from you, Devlyn? Jesus, just look at us now! They were sitting so close together their thighs were nearly touching. And Lauren's brain nearly seized up on the spot when she found herself leaning a little closer, willingly losing herself in sky-blue eyes. I am in so much trouble.
Dev offered her the last Oreo by way of a peace offering, and Lauren chuckled. "A bribe?"
"Well, we are in Washington. Would you expect any less?" She wiggled the cookie, wondering what brand of perfume her biographer wore and whether it smelled that intoxicating on anybody else. Oh, man, I'm never going to make it through four years.
CHAPTER III
March 2021
Wednesday, March 3rd
WASHINGTON D.C. WAS A mud pit. Snow had given way to a deep, icy slush, which, in turn, mutated into a soupy, dirty sludge. But, thankfully, the spring warm front had parked itself over the nation's capital and had finally vanquished even the last signs of what had been a brutal winter. Lauren cocked her head toward the window, hearing the faintest chirping of a robin. Oh, yeah, she sighed. I am so ready for spring.
The writer smiled at the vase of fresh-cut, yellow roses that brightened her desk. Every evening when she made her way to her room, a fresh bouquet was there to greet her. At first, she assumed that they were delivered to every room in the residence as a matter of course. Then she realized she hadn't seen them anywhere but her room. She had asked David McMillian about it, and the man just snorted, never really answering her question.
This sunny morning, the President was in a meeting with her National Security Advisor, and Lauren took the time to start researching a topic that had been niggling at her for weeks. She had thought Devlyn might discuss it with her herself. But the few times that it naturally came up in the conversation, Devlyn looked tense, angry perhaps. Unable to bear the shadows of pain behind Dev's eyes, Lauren steered the conversation into different waters, despite the fact that Dev appeared willing to press forward. Thankfully, this part of the President's past had already been very well publicized.
With a series of quick commands, Lauren fired up her computer and logged on.
"Good morning, Ms. Strayer," the soft computer voice greeted her.
"Good morning." She laughed at her response. She always answered the greeting, even though it was a machine. It somehow just seemed rude not to. "Search files. Marlowe, Devlyn."
"Searching. Files located. Directory?"
Lauren leaned back in her chair and removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose as the earpiece found its way into her mouth. "Sub-directory: Marlowe, Samantha. Source: All available."
"Searching. Files located. Directory?"
"Open all files. Most recent first. Current directory."
"File name: Sentencing Hearing. Harris, Theodore, 5/17/2017"
A three-dimensional video image cued up, and Lauren replaced her glasses, sliding her chair back a foot or two to maximize the resolution of the image. Dev was in a wood- paneled courtroom, and the mere sight of her caused Lauren to suck in an unexpected breath. The dark-haired woman was standing alongside a podium, her face drawn and tired looking, dark circles ringing normally bright eyes. She looks like she's been to hell and back.
"If it pleases the Court," Dev paused and took a sip of water. "I stand here before you today, not as the Governor of the state of Ohio, but as a victim. I stand before you, a spouse in mourning over the loss of my wife"
Dev's eyes flashed, and Lauren could see a barely suppressed rage mingled with a profound sadness, both begging to be released. "I spent nearly fifteen years with Samantha and intended to spend many more." Her penetrating gaze flicked sideways, and her face hardened. "Except that that man," she pointed to a bearded, frazzled-looking man who appeared to be in his early thirties, "decided to get behind the wheel of a car after drinking all night. As has already been proven, he was speeding along in a drunken stupor when he broadsided the car that Samantha was driving. Mind you, his car was fully equipped with auto-drive. And that would have prevented the accident. If he had bothered to turn it on!"
Lauren leaned forward, watching intently as Devlyn paused again, fighting to keep her emotions in check. Her chest felt tight, Dev's tension making it hard for her to breathe.
"The defendant left that crash scene with barely a scratch to show for it. And while Samantha Marlowe lay bleeding and dying, trapped in her car, he continued on his merry way to the liquor store to buy more booze!"
The image quickly shifted to the defendant, whose head was now in his hands, before panning back to Devlyn. Lauren recognized Jane in the gallery.
"It took the fire department nearly an hour to tear apart the car and get her out. And by that time she was already." Dev's voice dropped to a whisper, "she was dead."
The sound of weeping could be heard in the background, and Lauren wondered whether it was a friend or family member of Samantha's or the defendant himself.
Dev's jaw worked for a moment, and she stepped back around behind the podium. Her eyes dropped down to look at the notes she had spread out on the slanted wooden surface. They were crinkled and tattered, and Dev suddenly pushed them away, as though deciding not to use them after all.
Lauren looked from the papers to Dev. It was too personal to be read in open court, wasn't it?
"She left behind three beautiful children," a tiny smile edged her lips, and Lauren smiled back sadly. No matter what the circumstances, Dev always smiled when she mentioned her kids. "Our three-year-old daughter, Ashley, whom Samantha adopted as soon as I had her. Our son, Christopher, who is one. He um... he took his first steps the day after Samantha was killed." Sniffles joined the sound of muted weeping in the background. "And our youngest baby, Aaron, who was barely four weeks old when she was killed."
Dev's composure began to crack, and hot tears slowly crept down her cheeks, plunking lightly onto the papers in front of her. Lauren closed her eyes briefly, her stomach churning. She didn't want to see anymore, but she knew she had to.
"These three bright and wonderful children will never know the love of this woman who took care of them, and in the case of Chris and Aaron, carried them in her body, gave them the very lives they live today. Because of his carelessness his recklessness his indifference and disregard for human life" Devlyn spat. "Because of his refusal to seek treatment after his previous two DWIs, I have lost my partner and my best friend. He destroyed my family," Dev stopped, completely unable to continue.
She won't even say his name, Lauren thought.
Dev took a deep breath and stilled her shaking hands, making firm eye contact with the judge. "I request that this Court do the right thing and sentence this man to the maximum time allowed by Ohio state law for the crimes of which he has been convicted. I'll never get Samantha back." Her voice shook. "Our children have lost an irreplaceable part of their lives. The community has lost an outstanding, contributing member. He," she jerked her head toward the defendant, "should lose as much as we have." Dev squared her shoulders. "But that's not possible. So his freedom is the least that he can give."
David suddenly entered the picture, wrapping a strong arm around Devlyn's waist as she appeared to falter for just a second.
"Halt image." Lauren reached under the lens of her glasses, catching a salty tear just as it began to fall. She'd had enough. "Computer, tell me the sentencing of one," she glanced down at the handwritten notes in her lap, "Teddy or Theodore E. Harris. Convicted of aggravated vehicular manslaughter in Ohio, 5/14/2017."
"Searching. File located. No visual."
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