DUTCH AND GINA: A SCANDAL IS BORN (10 page)

“I know,” Gina agreed.
 
But she’d live this one and worst if it’ll mean she’ll be with Dutch.
 
“But anyway, let’s not keep talking about that.
 
Tell me about the case.”

The “case” involved Gina’s half-brother Marcus Rance.
 
A convicted killer once on Death Row in Texas, his sentence was recently commuted to life.
 
Gina saw her brother for the first time in her life when she went to the prison in Texas, and heard her brother declare his innocence.
 
Although she wasn’t certain herself, she hired the best, Roman Wilkes, to look into it.
 

“We’re at a standstill really,” Roman said.
 
“The old evidence points to innocence for sure, but you can’t overturn a conviction in Texas on old evidence.
 
There must be new evidence that’s significant enough to have changed the verdict if known at the time of trial.
 
We don’t have that yet.
 
We have evidence, but it’s all been litigated before.
 
What I’m trying to do is to dress up that old boy and make him look brand new.
 
And to do something like that in Texas is what the good old boys call a tall order, let me tell you.”

“I knew it was going to be darn-near impossible,” Gina said.
 
“But you do think he’s innocent?”

“Actually, I do,” Roman said.
 
“I’m working on it, G, that’s all I can tell you.”

“Have you seen him lately?”

“Week ago, yeah.”

Gina stared at Roman.
 
“How is he?” she asked.

“He’s very optimistic to tell you the truth.
 
He believes you can work miracles, lady.”

Gina rubbed her forehead, shook her head.
 
“That’s what I was afraid of.
 
I tried to tell him that I can only look into his claims.”

“But you’re the First Lady of the United States.
 
That’s all he knows.
 
He figures you can just drop a word to the Texas board and he’s free.”

“I hope you disabused him of that assumption.”

“I did.
 
But the brother is hopeful, what can I say?
 
Hope is a good thing in prison.”

But not this kind of hope, Gina thought, especially if he was truly innocent of the crimes and they prove unable to overturn his conviction.

Gina looked at Roman.
 
“Is it going to work, Ro?
 
Are we going to be able to overturn that verdict?”

Roman hesitated, then shook his head.
 
“I doubt it seriously.”

Gina’s heart dropped.
 
“Then what can we do?”

“We, nothing,” Roman said.
 
“But your husband is the President of the United States.
 
He always has the power to pardon any criminal and set him free.”

Gina stared at Roman.
 
“Pardon?” she asked.
 
And she was amazed.
 
She had never even thought about that before.
 
Then she thought again.
 
If Dutch were to pardon a man like Marcus Rance, a man who used to be a drug dealer before his murder conviction, it could ruin the rest of his presidency and tarnish his legacy forever.
 

“Let’s just do what we can for Marcus,” Gina said.

“And if what we do isn’t good enough?” Roman asked.

But Gina wasn’t ready to answer that question, not if it meant involving her husband.
 
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” she said.

EIGHT

Liz Sinclair was taken to the waiting area on the West Wing, and no sooner than she was sitting down did Max Brennan, along with an aide behind him, storm in.
  
She smiled as he came, because she knew if anyone would disapprove of her return, it would be him.

“Hello, Max,” she said.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he wanted to know.
 
His aide had notified him of her arrival and he nearly had a conniption getting to her.
 
Now they were alone and he walked directly up to her.
 
She, however, maintained her cool and her seat.

“You heard me,” he said.
 
“What are you doing here?”

Liz smiled.
 
“I’m here, same as you, at the pleasure of the president.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?
 
Who asked you to come here?
 
They said you were on the manifest but I didn’t order your inclusion.
 
Who said you could come here?”

“Allison Shearer phoned me---”

“Allison?” Max said, surprised.
 
Then he looked at his aide.
 
“Get Allison in here.”

“Yes, sir,” the aide said, glancing back at the beautiful black woman as he left.

Max pulled a chair over so that he could be directly in front of her.
 
“Why would Ally call you?”

Liz smiled inwardly.
 
She was going to love this, she thought.
 
“I’m assuming because Dutch asked her to.”

This seemed to catch Max off guard.
 
“Dutch?
 
Why the hell would Dutch Harber want to have anything whatsoever to do with you?”

“Perhaps he saw through your game, Max.
 
And those lies you told on me.”
 
She said this with some degree of bitterness.
 

Max, however, was unrepentant.
 
“Lies my ass,” he said.
 
“You were up to no good and I told
 
him so.”

“I was looking out for his best interest!” Liz snapped.

“I look out for his best interest!” Max snapped back.
 
“And it wasn’t in his best interest to run around this White House fucking you!”

Liz stood up quickly, angry at herself for allowing him to get to her this easily.
 
She folded her arms and moved over to the window.
 
When she turned back around, she attempted to smile again.
 
“As usual, Max, you don’t know anything about anything.
 
My relationship with Dutch was then and has always been pure and beautiful and so deep and loving that it often awed both of us.
 
And you and your yes-men couldn’t handle that.”

“Yeah, right.
 
The only thing deep about your relationship was whenever he penetrated you up your ass, so don’t even try that schoolgirl bullshit on me.”

“What, Max, afraid?
 
Running scared?”

Max snorted.
 
“Yeah, I’m running scared, how ‘bout that?
 
I’m real scared!”

“Afraid I might do what I was doing before you and your people forced me out?”

Max hesitated.
 
Liz didn’t play checkers, she played chess.
 
She knew how to get an advantage before you even knew the game was afoot.
 
“And what exactly were you doing before Dutch fired your ass?

“Dutch didn’t fire me.
 
I resigned.
 
And you put him in a position where he had no choice but to accept my resignation.”

“Yeah, yeah, right.
 
But tell me: why am I so afraid of you of all people?”

“You’re afraid that Dutch might just do it again.”

Max frowned.
 
“Do what again?”

“Do an interview on national television where he referred to me, not you, but me as his best friend, as his go-to person, as the one human being he would trust with his life.”
 

Liz knew she was overstating the case, but she was close enough.
 
It was a prime-time, sit-down interview on NBC.
 
The journalist asked the president who was his most valuable staff member.
 
His entire staff, including Liz and Max, was in the Roosevelt Room watching the interview at the time.
 
Liz remembered how Allison patted Max on the back, as if she just knew for certain what the president’s answer was going to be.
 
Everybody thought they knew the answer.
 

But only they didn’t.
 
Because the president didn’t mention his old friend and chief of staff Max Brennan.
 
The president, instead, spoke only of Liz.
 
And he spoke glowingly of her, describing her as his most valuable staffer, as the one person he relied on the most, as the one person he trusted the most.
 
Liz nearly cried she was so touched.
 

And that day, she believed, was the turning point.
 
For it was at that very moment, when the president was praising her and didn’t even mention Max, did Max make it his business to do everything in his power to get rid of her.

“I don’t know what your game is this time,” Max said, standing to his feet, “but it won’t work.”

“Good.
 
Because I don’t play games.”

“Like hell,” Max decried.
 
Then he frowned.
 
“But what’s with you?
 
Dutch doesn’t want you.
 
He’s a married man.
 
If he had wanted you he would have married you instead.”

“Oh, no, he would not have,” Liz said, her bitterness reemerging.
 
“Not with his old chum from childhood planting all those negative seeds in his ear.
 
Not with his long time buddy sabotaging my work, getting your powerful friends at the NIA to tell Dutch they considered me a security risk.
 
A security risk!
 
Me!
 
When I would have died for that man before I let anybody harm him and you knew it!
 
But you let it happen anyway.
 
And now you have the nerve to suggest that he would have married me if he wanted to?
 
How could he keep me anywhere near him when y’all were feeding him those pack of lies?”

“I don’t know what this return of yours is about,” Max said, refusing to re-litigate that terrible time, “but I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of it, I’ll find out what game you’re playing at,
 
and make sure my displeasure is known.”

Liz smiled.
 
Max was still in awe at how quickly she could go from anger and bitterness to all smiles and sweetness.
 
“What, Max,” she said, “he didn’t confide in you about my return?
 
Now that’s news.
 
Maybe it’s your game he’s on to.”

“Go to hell.”

She laughed.
 
Allison entered the room just as she did.
 
“You’re just worried I’ll get too close to your man again, isn’t that really the problem, Max?”

Max looked at Allison, as Allison hesitated when she heard that snide remark.
 
He fooled them all, he thought.
 
But he could never pull the wool over Liz’s eyes.
 

“What’s this all about?” he asked Allison before she could ask about Liz’s comment.

Allison shook her head.
 
“Don’t ask,” she said.
 
“The president will see you now,” she said to Liz.

“Wait a minute,” Max said, grabbing Allison, who was about to turn to leave, by the arm.
 
“Did he, did the president have you to phone her and ask her back here?”

“He told me to schedule a meeting.
 
I scheduled a meeting.”

Liz had grabbed her purse and briefcase from the chair and was by Allison’s side.
 
“Hello, Ally,” she said with her grandest smile.

“Right this way,” Allison replied and headed for the exit.

Liz grinned.
 
“You taught them well, Max,” she said as she followed.

Max, although amazed by this turn of event, wasn’t so thrown that he didn’t follow too.

Dutch was seated behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval office reviewing the National Intelligence Estimate he had just been briefed on when Allison and Max arrived with Liz.
 
Dutch smiled when he saw her.

“Hello, Liz,” he said as he stood, coming from around the desk.

“Dutch,” she said as she hurried to him, her hand extended long before they meet, her affection for him as it had been when she worked for him.
 

And when they met, Dutch put his hands on her upper arms, staring into her gorgeous eyes.
 
He missed her companionship, her intelligence, her love.
 

“How have you been, Liz?” he asked, rubbing her arms.

“Good,” Liz said, fighting back tears.
 

Dutch, too, felt overcome with emotion.
 
And he couldn’t help himself.
 
This used to be his friend.
 
At one time his closest friend.
 
He kissed her on the mouth, and pulled her into his arms.
 

Max watched with debilitating envy as Dutch embraced her, as Dutch closed his eyes tightly and seemed lost in yesteryear.
 
He was remembering her, Max thought.
 
And why wouldn’t he?
 
She was ten times better looking than that wife of his, was smarter, sharper, and would have been able to handle the DC press corps without batting an eye.
 
And was probably far better in bed, if, as Max suspected, they’d ever been in bed.

Max even wondered if Dutch was regretting his decision.
 
Maybe Dutch, at this moment, was feeling that he had married the wrong woman.
 
If that were true, Max felt, then he could kiss his position in Dutch’s life goodbye for certain.
 
Gina didn’t like him either, but she was a lady about it.
 
She tolerated him because of his history with Dutch.
 

Liz, on the other hand, hated Max, and wouldn’t tolerate him for a hot second, history or no history.
 
He’d be fired before he could plead his case.
 
She’d turn the tables on him, he knew she would.
 
Because that bitch, he felt, knew how to serve up revenge and serve it up so cold nothing could thaw it.
 
He got her once, would be her mantra, now it was her time.

Dutch, however, had no thought about Max’s concerns.
 
He was too lost in that bygone time as he held Liz; as he remembered how she had his back unlike any other human being ever had.
 
She was a good woman who had gotten a raw deal.
 
And he allowed his then supercharged political ambition to overtake his decency and didn’t fight to keep her in his corner.
  
But now it was a question of Gina.
 
And he knew he had to make amends.

“Please have a seat,” he said to her when they stopped embracing, his heart hammering as her large breasts pulled back from his chest, his eyes unable to deny how remarkably striking she still appeared.
 

He turned to Allison and Max, who were staring at him.
 
“Tell Belle I want no disturbances,” he said to Allison.