ALL IN: Race for the White House (26 page)

“Consider being my donor?”

I closed my eyes, shook my head and took a deep breath in and out, “I can’t, Honey… but listen, I’m sure if you’ll do what I tell you… I can help you find someone.”

“What do you think I am doing wrong?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her. Where would I begin? First, you look frumpy as hell. Even I know Mousy Brown Bobs weren’t meant to grow out. You don’t have to be a stylist to know sweaters, pants and flats aren’t very appealing.
 

Instead, I said
,
“First of all, you know I love you right? Well, Sweetheart… you don’t realize how pretty you are. Because of that, I don’t think you try very hard.”

“Do you
really
think I’m pretty? I don’t believe you.”

“Lisa, you’re not making any effort. Hey, you know what would really cheer you up? Join me for the concert Saturday. We’ll fly down together and have a great time. Martha’s coming.”

“Really, Jack? That would be amazing.”

“First, let me treat you to the mall; you can pick out something sexy to wear.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“If you’re going to trust me to do this, I’m not gonna pull any punches. Men are visual first, Lisa, and you need to work on that.”

“Jack, I know you’re trying to help, but shouldn’t we go back after lunch? If we take too long, everyone’s going to blame me. You know Bud will be furious, Sandy will be pissed, and Bill will get in one of his moods. You’ve got so much to do before Saturday.”

“Who cares what the people at the office think, we’re up for this; let’s go pull out all the stops! You’re important to me, Sweetheart.

“Do you really think it would do any good?”

“By the time I get through you’ll be getting a lot of attention.”

Honestly, I didn’t have a clue, but I figured anything off the rack had to be better than what she had on.
 

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you… you’re beautiful. Don’t take it wrong… I mean in a rugged way, but you attract people like a magnet. I’m talking about real people, Jack. You’ve got charisma.”

Lisa was sounding like she had too much wine.
 

“Lisa, you’re a math whiz, with all the girls out there making bad choices, picking the wrong guy, the odds ought to be in your favor to get one of the good one’s that’s left, right?”

“Funny, Jack, but it’s working. You’re making me feel better. I’m almost allowing myself to dream a little. Are you getting my hopes up?”

“Lisa in a little while, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a try. I’ll do whatever you say, I’m all in.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

That night, for five glorious minutes, thinking the day was finally over, I rested my tired head on the soft down pillow. Our bed was made up of all ten layers of the Westin Heavenly Series, a collection of all whites over a thicker than a normal pillow top mattress. Dealing with all Lisa’s emotions and the mall trip tired me, and I was ready to fall asleep. Sarah had other ideas as she climbed under the covers.
 

Turning to me, “Emma called today and said you were at the mall with some hot young girl hanging on your arm.”
 

I could hear the displeasure growing in her voice. It was strange because up until bedtime, Sarah hadn’t given the slightest inkling she was angry.
 

Emma Van Winkle was one of Sarah’s college roommates. They had shared a quad at the dorm with two others and the four still made a point to get together for a girls weekend once a year. They tried to stay in loose touch with each other with phone calls and more frequently with texts. Two of the girls still lived in Kentucky, but Emma and her Podiatrist husband Phil lived in Alexandria. A couple times a year Sarah would make it a point to ask them to get together with us. Emma was a busy body and Phil was a know it all. I cringed whenever we had to spend time with them, which luckily with our kids and busy schedules wasn’t too often. The only upside to knowing Emma and Phil was the two of them had made it into my comedy routine. Since college, I’d been working on a strong five minutes of material. I always waited until our guests were drinking before launching into my jokes.

I was tired and drifting when Sarah continued, “Emma said there was some really skinny guy linking arms with the girl, and you were all carrying big shopping bags.”
 

The way she said it, a tiny squirt of adrenaline partially woke me up. Knowing I had this one, I wanted to play it really well. Pretending to be almost asleep without a care in this world in the softest, most pleasant voice I could muster I yawned.

“That was Jean-Claude, Lisa’s hairdresser.”
 

“That was Lisa from the office you were with?” Sarah voiced the words as if she couldn’t believe her ears.
 

“What a trouble maker she is,” I said, hoping to shut the Emma dilemma down once and for all.
 

“Emma said she agonized all day, whether to call and tell me. It was Phil who convinced her. He told her that’s what a friend would do, and wouldn’t she want to know the truth if the shoe was on the other foot?”
 

I thought to myself,
Phil, what a worm
. Thinking he was impressing me one night when I was obliged to visit. Sitting on his gray washed front porch drinking cheap scotch, he bragged he’d hired a hooker in Vegas on a business trip. He could barely contain his excitement as he told the whole sordid tale of how he’d been approached at the bar by an attractive redhead in her forties. How they’d gone back to his room together and what she did for the two hundred bucks he paid her. The bastard knew I planned to take his secret to the grave; I was no snitch. Bill, Tip, or Bud could say anything to me and I would think it was hilarious. I didn’t have the same tolerance for Phil, but I would still keep his secret.
Until tonight.
 

I blurted, “Phil hires hookers when he’s in Vegas,” I added the plural for effect speaking in a sleepy, quiet undertone. He’s jealous of our relationship, and Emma’s a friggin witch. When I saw her at the mall, I even pretended to be glad to see her. I introduced her to both Lisa and Jean-Claude, she’s heard Lisa’s name before, but still she tries her best to start trouble, the jealous bitch.”
 

“Jack, I’m sorry, don’t be angry. I’ll deal with her. I mean, the way she described the girl as voluptuous and hanging on you makes me wonder about Emma’s intentions.”
 

I should have quit right there while I was clearly ahead with the matter settled.

Sarah mused, “You were with Lisa?” I should have turned over and fallen asleep, but that would have been too easy.
 

I added, “Lisa was having a bad day, so on a lark, I took her out to lunch. The poor kid was feeling really bad about herself… can you believe her father never told her she was pretty?”
 

“Jack, she’s playing you. It can’t be true; no girl’s dad could be so cruel.” Sarah knew my big mouth wouldn’t leave it there.
 

“Well, that’s what she told me at lunch, sobbing over her Chicken Marsala. I decided to put her in the car and take the four-minute ride up to Hayes Street to Fashion City. Lisa excused herself to freshen up, meanwhile the waiter brought a note saying, Thank you Senator Canon, we are delighted you stopped by. I stuck a tip in the jacket and closed it as Lisa was walking back to the table. The kid really needed this day, Sarah.”

“I know you meant well, Honey, and Lisa’s important. I guess I was upset because Emma thought she had really seen something and it was her responsibility to tell me. Now I’m angry with her for jumping to conclusions. Like you said, Jack, you even introduced Lisa to her. I’m wondering what a friend she really is.”
 

Fashion City was the mall we usually shopped in, massive and wide open with escalators in all directions. It was comprised of the first four floors of the Washington Office Tower, the perfect place to cheer Lisa up. I knew from living with three girls—nothing cheered them up like shopping.
 

I grabbed my Boston Red Sox cap and sunglasses from the dash. Before this, I had never been noticed around Washington or maybe people were so used to politicians they didn’t bother. Recently, because of the ads, people would come up wanting to talk. It’s actually easier to be charming on television in front of millions than it is working a one-on-one.
 

I wiped the lenses on my shirt, put on the hat, and we sped off... I had planned to spend the day with Bud and the speechwriters. So dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, I was ready to blend right in with the crowd.
 

I turned over and said to Sarah, “You’ll be happy to hear I got stopped for speeding on the way there. Lisa couldn’t believe the officer let me go.”

Sarah hated my fast driving and made me promise never to speed with the girls. The truth was almost never, sometimes with Martha, I would drive a little faster. Little Bethany made a habit of watching the speedometer carefully and would report the slightest infraction to her mom. Usually, she’d be able to say, ‘
Daddy did good, Mommy.
’
 

“I told Lisa I was going to treat her to a new dress and shoes and I wanted her to accompany Martha and me to South Carolina.”
 

“So I guess you’ve definitely decided to bring her; that’s nice, it will be a good father and daughter experience.”
 

“Like you ever thought I could leave her home. You know I’m a soft touch with her.”

“Are you referring to Martha or Lisa? It could be either with you.”

“Martha.”

“Okay, so you took Lisa to the mall. How did you end up shopping with Lisa’s hairdresser of all people? You hate shopping.”
 

“That’s the great part about the afternoon: I didn’t have to shop. I only had to carry a few Juicy Couture bags to the car. When we were in the salon while Lisa was getting her hair done, I mentioned to Jean-Claude she was going on a trip and we came to get her a new outfit. Right there he offered to shop with her. He said he was born to shop. I lucked out. I wouldn’t have been much help anyway.”
 

“
You took Lisa to get her hair done?”
 

“Yeah, it’s funny. We weren’t planning on it, but when we got to the mall, the first thing we saw was this fancy salon. I’ve always thought Lisa’s hair was frumpy. It was right in front of us like
a sign
, so I offered to take her in there.”

I had actually nudged her in that direction with my body, but I left that out. I was going to add, ‘you always say hair is important,’ but thought that would only irritate her so I kept it to myself, saying only, “To make her feel better, I made a deal to get her hooked up within a year, and I was feeling the pressure; I didn’t have a moment to waste.”
 

“It’s
your responsibility
to get her hooked up with someone, that’s gotta be a joke. Are you still in high school? The Commander in Chief doesn’t have the time to be a matchmaker. How could you promise her something like that?”
 

I thought,
if she only knew what I’d been asked, she would flip out
.
 

“So you’re telling me you walked into a salon, I can’t get you near a salon with me.”

“You’re gorgeous, and you don’t want me with you while you’re getting your hair done. Plus, this came up over lunch, and I figured why not help her out.”

“Well, this is actually a good thing. Maybe you can take your daughters next time
they
need a trim.”
 

Adjusting my pillow, I said in the most tired sounding voice I could make, “I’ll take them next time, I don’t mind.”

I knew it would never happen. None of the women in my family would trust me for hair advice
. I turned over and closed my eyes. I was proud of myself for having the willpower to close my mouth and leave out some details about the day.
 

Like earlier
, when Lisa and I walked into the salon the young women who walked over to greet us made quite an impression. Her movements caught my eye as we entered and I secretly hoped she’d be interacting with us. Walking like it was an art form, she slinked her way toward the front reception area and strangely unlike most people the closer she got the better she looked. An all-black mini dress barely covered her. From a high collar, it scooped ultra-low backless loosely draping her bottom revealing some of her sides and lower back.
 

I could make out a couple tattoos without trying too hard. They were both in handwritten script; one across the exposed part of her foot read
butterflies.
The writing flowed beautifully at the angle of her heels.
The other–four lines of a story centered across her ribs. Normally I don’t even like tattoos, now I’m fantasizing about tracing the letters with my tongue and tasting her skin.
 
Once upon a time, a girl got her heart broken…

Her hair was gorgeous. She wore it mid back length, stick straight, with bangs touching the top of her softly brushed brows. Crazy, I’ve never liked black hair before, but I was fascinated by the shine.
 

Close up her face looked smooth as silk like it was in soft focus. Her delicate features reminded me of a new fawn with giant eyes and a turned up nose. I thought the lighting must be magnificent in here, so I looked over at Lisa to test the theory.
 

Lisa shot me a look like ‘
don’t you dare
compare me to her.’ It wasn’t the lighting.
 

Face to face, I focused on her steely blue eyes under large lids covered in smoky dark charcoal.
 

Her body language was saying
no
, quickly twitching her head. She looked Lisa up and down as if she was nothing, and then briefly turned a dismissive glance towards me.