ALL IN: Race for the White House (25 page)

“Right, Dad,
as if
… she’s like the prettiest
girl
on the planet.
She’s older
than I thought, but she’s still awesome.”

By including a shot of her with Fantasy, Lexi made Martha a happy girl. They had arranged it all like two girlfriends on the plane ride home the night before.
 

We had a great time being interviewed by Lexi; she was a friend to me and had really taken to Martha. She asked unbiased questions and I respected her editing and production. We were a little hyped up riding back on the plane and we laughed almost uncontrollably off camera, still elated from the reaction of the fans.
 

It’s tough coming down from something like that. The cameraman had offered to show Martha a replay of the entire night on the monitor and her young eyes were glued to the screen.
 

Tip was the only one of our group riding with us; the rest of the space went to the camera crew and producer for the interview.
 

Hobbs graciously provided a large corporate jet for Bud, Lisa, Bill, and some staffers who came along. Sandy had stayed behind to run the fort. Partly to keep my promise to Sarah – besides, I couldn’t risk Martha seeing something harmless but hard to explain.
 

Lexi led me to the back of the plane, “Jack, can I have a few minutes to talk with you?” I took a seat on the couch at the rear and Lexi sat down almost on top of me. Lexi kept her eyes peeled on Martha, and once confident her gaze was fixed on the monitor, proceeded to kick her high heel off stretching her silky bare leg over the two of mine. She playfully grabbed my tie, which was hanging loosely around my collar, and pulled it off.
 

“You need to relax.” She scooted closer and leaned into me, still keeping a close eye on Martha up front.
 

“She’s such a great kid. Did you see how she took to Fantasy tonight? She was absolutely beaming when she and Devon taught her that dance. You are going to be her hero for bringing her with you.” Lexi stared into my eyes for what seemed like 30 seconds, lightly swaying her neck and head.

I said, “What’s with you?”

“You moved me with your speech tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The three days leading up to the South Carolina Concert were lived at a frenetic pace. Martha continued her pleas finally wearing her mother down to a maybe, but the final decision is up to your father. Hearing that, Martha recruited me to help. She didn’t know I was a willing accomplice. We schemed together. I stalled. We planned, and I suggested she sweeten the pot by offering extra chores. I confided that it really was still up to Mom. I told her I could promise Tip would not leave her side if she could go. Sarah knew I’d cave and without Martha’s knowledge, spent three-quarters of an hour on the phone talking terms with Tip.
 

Bethany, sensing an opening, tried to make a case for coming along herself. The idea was flatly refused by Mom.
 

“You are not going, young lady, and that’s all there is to it!”
 

Once Martha got the ‘maybe’ she immediately began packing and making preparations. Partly, I’m sure, to seal the deal in cement with me. She said nothing at all to her sister and did not make any attempt to rub it in for fear any infraction would reverse her mom’s tacit okay. She helped Bethany with homework, cleaned the supper dishes without being asked and even swept the garage. It was like three days of living with the perfect child.
 

“I could get used to this,” I joked with Sarah. Martha had sold her coming along with phrases like, “I will simply die if I can’t go with Dad!”
 

Martha was so concerned with what she might like to wear she went through every outfit in her closet.

“Should I wear my hair up, Daddy?” Martha was assuming the sale, I was proud of her. She brought it to my attention - nothing
she owned
was suitable for her to wear. She knew better than to engage Mom in the
full on pleading
it had taken for her go in the first place, intuitively realizing it would backfire.
 

She took a different tack, offering to pay for the clothes herself. She even sweetened the pot promising lunch to any parent who would take her shopping. Martha rarely had occasion to learn the value of spending her money; this was an opportunity. The Colonel spoiled her with one hundred dollars on her birthday for every year of age. It was beginning to get ridiculous, a far cry from the meager allowance I worked for as a kid.
 

The outfit they finally decided on was a compromise. I’ve dealt with world leaders, but I was glad Sarah negotiated with our fifteen-year-old on hair, makeup, and choice of outfit.
 

When my little girl stepped out of the limousine beaming with happiness all her preparations had been worth it. My daughter glowed and I loved that she was with me.
 

One of the chores I was dreading was talking to Lisa about the car thing. I stalled telling her that Bud and I were camping out in the office for the next few days with the speechwriters to come up with something special for Saturday. I wanted some epic sounding stuff on short notice.
 

I told Lisa to give me a few hours my first day back and then come get me for lunch. I wanted to get her out of the office, away from all the distractions and make it right with her one on one. We had no time for focus groups or consultants’ opinions and were coming up with some racy stuff.
 

Bud was imploring me to play it safe when Lisa knocked lightly on my office door. Peeking in, she spotted me, “Jack, it’s almost lunch time; you said to remind you...”

I could see from across the room her eyes were welling up. This car debacle had caused her to get emotional. She was doing her best not to burst into tears. I jumped up quickly, “Excuse me, guys. I have a lunch date, let’s break for a while.” I got to Lisa and hugged her, in another two seconds she might have been sobbing aloud. She buried her head into my chest and I whispered, “It’s going to be okay, we’ll talk it all out. Don’t be upset. Try to relax a minute and we’ll go out and have a good time.” I stood, holding her half in and half out of the doorway, using my back as a shield so no one could see her.
 

“I’m going to hold you until you settle and then we’re going to walk straight out to the elevator door and disappear, just the two of us.”
 

She looked up into my eyes with her chin still down and whispered, “Okay, Jack.”

I kept Lisa to the wall side of me as we walked toward the elevator arm in arm. I could feel fifty pairs of eyes now focused on my side and back.
 

Once in the car, I couldn’t resist the fun of fish tailing and squealing the tires all the way down to the lower level of the garage to the attendant, smiling ear-to-ear; now quite familiar with my daily routine waving me through. I think he got some perverse pleasure out of my parking garage antics, burning rubber and breaking rules.
 

That reminded me of something - I had two five thousand dollar gift cards to the Simon Mall at Fashion Centre at Pentagon City. Gene Hobbs had stuffed an envelope into my pocket on Tuesday night with the cards. I think he said something like a gift for my daughters. Direct gifts were definitely a line I had never crossed until recently, before becoming involved with Hobbs. I had accepted the car, rationalizing, I’d give it to charity, and now the certificates. There was so much going on that night it left no time for a conscience. I should have given them back. The girls are spoiled. No way I’m presenting them with a gift like this. No kid should be given everything.
 

Luckily, the cards had no names on them and were like cash. I decided not to embarrass myself by sending them back. There’s no way I would risk insulting a man who’d raised record cash and, more importantly, was a giant wellspring for more.
 

“Where do you want to eat?” I said, racing down the street. Lisa looked a little uncomfortable; I could see her hands gripping the armrest and seat tightly.
 

“You drive too fast, can you slow it down a bit, I’ll be too nervous to eat.” Slowing down a bit, “How about the Portofino on 23rd South?” I asked. “Have you been there before?”
 

“Not really, I heard it was sort of pricey”.
 

“Pricey? It’s not every lunch I get to escape from the office with a beautiful girl.”
 

“Yeah right, Jack, I’m not Sandy.”
 

I continued, “The food’s good, the atmosphere’s casual, and I think you’ll like it. Are you up for Italian?”
 

“Sure, I love Italian. Sounds good to me.”
 

We arrived in front and valet parked. I slipped the kid a fifty and said to keep it close by.
 

“I’ll keep it right in front,” he said, “I don’t even want to risk parking this.”

We walked up the short flight of stairs onto a little washed out slate landing; I opened the single narrow red door for Lisa. Once inside the small entry, the Maître Di recognized me and lighted up.
 

“So nice to see you, Senator.”
 

He quickly took our coats and led us to a quiet corner booth so we could talk. I was happy to get a cozy spot near the painted brick fireplace.
 

Lisa started, “It’s nice of you want to understand my feelings. I didn’t want to freak you out; it wasn’t professional of me to question you. You can obviously give a car to anyone you want.”
 

“Lisa, you’re important to me, I care about you.” One of the waiters who would serve us arrived and introduced himself as Jeffrey. He explained the specials and asked for our drink order.
 

“I think we’ll start off with a little wine, bring us a bottle of your best, Jeffrey. Do you like red or white?”
 

“I think red goes better with Italian,” Lisa said.

“Red it is,” nodding to the waiter.
 

Jeffrey disappeared for a moment.
 

“Lisa, I am sorry you found out about the car the way you did, I don’t know what you must have been thinking.”

“Jack, I didn’t mean to react like that, her eyes welled up. Women talk, I know you didn’t sleep with her, that’s why I didn’t understand it. I’m sorry I sort of freaked out and sent you the text. I’m dedicated to you. Let’s face it, I’m not married and don’t have a social life, my whole life is my job.”
 

“Lisa, you have to view yourself from a better perspective; you have a lot of great qualities.”
 

“That sounds like something my mother would say, Jack.”
 

Tears started streaming down her face.
 

“Believe me, I see what’s happening to me. I’m getting older and haven’t found love… I may never find it. I’ve even considered having a baby in vitro. I’m so worried it may never happen for me.”

Lisa was spilling her guts out. “It’s just… I thought she’s your favorite because she’s pretty and I’m not.”

Our waiter was back, ignoring Lisa, wiping her eyes.
 

He said, pouring, “This is a bottle of our best Chianti compliments of the manager.” Jeffrey confided the manager on duty had called the owner of the restaurant and our being there had caused quite a stir back of the house.
 

“Please tell your manager thank you.”
 

He trotted off beaming. Lisa continued the sad saga, “My dad never told me I was pretty. He used to say it to my younger sister all the time. Until the day he died, he never said I was pretty. Even at the hospital while he lay dying I waited until he took his last breath to hear him say it, still hoping, but he never did.
 

“Lisa, if that’s true it was because you’re so smart, he was focusing on that. I’m sure he thought it. Beauty is all attitude. That’s what I tell Martha and Bethany. You can talk yourself into feeling any way you want.”

“Well, I’m thirty-five. I don’t think love’s in the cards for me.”

“Don’t say that. You’re talking yourself out of it. Speaking of love, have you met Bud’s girlfriend yet?”

“No, he’s keeping her all to himself, I guess.”

“Did you hear how they met?”

We were laughing together, Lisa through the tears.
 

“The whole office heard it, Bud bites and tells.”

“No, Jackie bit him, isn’t it wild?”

“Jackie? He calls her Jacqueline whenever I’m around. If you stop and think, Jack, it’s almost Freudian.”

“Oh, you’re funny, keep that to yourself.”

“Sorry, I didn’t say it, Sandy did. Don’t kill the messenger.”

“I knew you’d try to cheer me up,” Lisa said, wiping her eyes with her linen napkin.”

“I don’t want to see you sad, that’s all.”

“Jack, I really am thinking of in vitro and I want to have a family even without a husband. Tell me if I’m way out of line, but I’ve been fantasizing you would be my donor.”

I almost spit out the wine.
Where did that come from? This can’t be happening.
I could barely believe my ears, didn’t Lisa realize I could never father her child and not feel responsible?

“Before you say anything, I promise you no one would ever know. It would be our secret; I would take it to the grave.”

I felt my face flush – the fireplace felt hot, I was feeling freaked out and had to get her off the subject.

“Lisa, I’ve got a much better idea. I’ll help you find someone.”

“How are
you
going to do what
I haven’t
been able to do my whole life?”

“I bet you I can do it. Give me a year. If you aren’t in a relationship by then, I’ll consider it.”

If not, I could always ask Sandy to be her wingman. She’d get her drunk, dressed and out. No, that would be too easy. If I really care about her and I’m not kidding myself, then I’d want to see her in love and happy.