Madam President (61 page)

The little girl threw her hands into the air. "Do I ever?!"

"Yes," Dev called over her shoulder. "I've got an FBI file on you an inch thick. Be good till we get back."

"Yes, ma'am."

Once the women were a few feet away, Lauren eased up on their pace. She leaned closer to Dev and spoke quietly, concern coloring her tone. "Your speech was wonderful, Devlyn." She looked for a tactful segue, but in this instance there didn't seem to be one. Lauren let go of Dev's hand and gently rubbed her back as they strolled along at a snail's pace. "You okay?"

The President nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get back out there and do it. Kind of like falling off a horse for the first time. You just have to get up and get back on before you lose your nerve." She smiled wryly. "Funny, when I was on tour after the bombings, being out there didn't bother me, but this, here at home, where it happened – this shook me up." Dev felt her guts begin to churn when she thought of the shooting, and she quickly pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the here and now. "I don't understand it, but I survived it, and that's all that matters."

Unexpected tears pricked Lauren's eyes, and she felt her throat close.

"Hey." Dev stopped walking and wrapped her arms around the shorter woman's waist. "None of that, okay?" She tilted her head in entreaty. "Today's supposed to be fun."

Lauren nodded and drew in a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry." She smiled weakly, and they resumed their trek.

"It helped having you here today. Keeping watch over me, were you, Mighty Mouse?"

Lauren laughed lightly. "You know it, Wonder Woman. Somebody's got to keep you out of trouble."

Dev's hand let go of Lauren's waist as they maneuvered around a popcorn stand and a large family. "Get any nice pictures?"

"Hmm. Absolutely. A bunch of the kids and several great ones of you. Not that just about any picture of you isn't great."

"Right," Dev snorted.

Lauren rolled her eyes at the suddenly bashful look that had overtaken Dev's face. "Trust me, Devlyn. You and the camera are carrying on a love affair that should make me green with jealousy. You're gorgeous, and you damn well know it."

Dev's mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Lauren laughed in earnest, retaking her lover's hand and twining their fingers together. She wanted to talk more about how Dev felt about the shooting. Dev needed that. But she also sensed that the President wasn't quite ready. She needed more time, and that was okay by Lauren. She could be patient when she had to be, and she had no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

The women approached the front of a brightly-bannered concession stand that smelled so good Lauren was sure she had gained five pounds just by being within sniffing distance.
Thank God we work out so much.
There were no lines, and Lauren walked right up ahead of Dev, taking a spot at the counter. "Pick your poison, Madam President," she said brightly. "I'm buying."

Dev sighed happily.
God, she's wonderful. I'm keeping her.
Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around Lauren from behind, and rested her chin on the shorter woman's shoulder as she considered the menu. She pressed her lips against Lauren's ear and in a sexy purr said, "Fudgesicle."

Oooo... Lauren nearly swooned on the spot. She held her fingers up for the vendor, who was openly staring at his most famous customer. "Make that two."

 
        
Wednesday, October 13
^th

 "She looks nervous." Dev elbowed David, who was perched next to her on the edge of her desk in the Oval Office. "Don't you think she looks nervous?"

David nodded. "Oh, yeah. She's nervous." The man winced. "And that was just the promo."

Lauren was about to be interviewed by the nation's number one, live, early morning talk show,
Wake Up, America
. It was a 'feel good' program that eased millions of Americans into the day. The show's anchor, the irrepressible and ever-so-palatable-before-breakfast, Debbie Charles, was a personal friend of Dev's, who had interviewed her several times over the years, first as Governor of Ohio, then as President-Elect. The woman was fair and likeable and knew how to stick to relevant topics, never letting her questions drift into areas that were too personal or gossip-laden.

Dev's face grew pensive. "Lauren will be fine, right?" Her glance flicked sideways to David just as the promo for the show ended and a coffee commercial took its place. "I mean, she's done tons of personal appearances to promote her biographies. She told me so herself. This is just like that."

"Were they televised?" David asked absently, wishing he had a big, jumbo mug for his coffee like the incredibly happy-looking man on television.

Dev chewed her lip as she thought. "Umm... now that I think of it, I guess they wouldn't have been. There was no tape included with her background check. If she'd done TV it would have been there." Dev chastised herself for being so busy the last few days that she hadn't really bothered to find out how Lauren felt about the interview
.
"She seemed fine with it, right?" Other than the younger woman's mentioning it earlier in the week, during breakfast, the subject had never even come up.

"Well, she was a little reluctant to do it when she found out it was going to be televised nationally. Especially since it was live." David frowned, resigning himself to his own, now apparently inadequate, coffee mug. "But once I explained how good publicity that showed her in a professional, rather than personal, light would be – and how it would go a long way towards keeping the party dogs off your back about your relationship," he shrugged, "she didn't seem to have a problem with it."

Dev sprang to her feet, knocking a folder containing the day's agenda to the floor in the process. "You said what?!"

David looked up in surprise. "What?" His eyes widened at the look on Dev's face. "It's the truth, Dev. Lauren's a big girl. She asked me if this would help you, and I said yes."

"I don't care if it is the truth." Dev's gaze hardened. "I don't want you pressuring her."

"And I didn't!" David defended, slightly miffed.

Jane and Liza, who were sitting on a sofa that had been pulled over next to Dev's desk so that they could have a better view of the television, both looked at each other knowingly. If David and Dev didn't have at least three good disagreements a day, the world as they knew it might come crashing to a halt.

The commercials ended, and the music for
Wake Up, America
started. Lauren and the show's co-host, a young, clean-cut man in a cable knit sweater, were now sitting in side-by-side chairs, chatting quietly over their morning coffee. "Jesus Christ." Dev pointed at the image. "Does that freakin' coffee company own the world or what?" She reached behind her, picking up her steaming mug of that exact brand and sighed with pleasure as both she and Lauren took sips simultaneously.

David narrowed his eyes enviously at Lauren's enormous, super-sized mug
. I don't care if it is nothing more than mug envy. After the show, I'm calling Beth.
Beth knew the proper store for everything and its exact location.

"Wow. She looks good on TV," Jane commented appreciatively. "I don't see that extra ten pounds people are always complaining about."

Liza squinted. "Me neither."

"Shhhhh!" Dev leaned forward eagerly.

The man sitting next to Lauren turned to the camera and smiled brightly, his blindingly white teeth fairly sparkling in contrast to his tanned skin. "And next, Traci Corbin will be filling in for Debbie Charles, who called in sick with... if you can believe it... the chickenpox! Our very special guest this morning is Lauren Strayer, biographer to the President."

Jaws dropped in the Oval Office.

"But first," the young man continued, "the weather." A large map of the United States appeared and
Wake Up, America
's much beloved weatherman materialized right along with it.

"David!" Dev growled, her entire body shaking.

"I'm on it!" Liza thrust a phone into the Chief of Staff's hand, and he frantically began calling to find out whose head was going to roll, and how they could stop this interview before the portly weatherman worked his way to California.

Lauren shifted uncomfortably in her chair, running a nervous hand through her hair the second the camera panned over to the weatherman.

Traci Corbin brushed past the show's male co-host, who was on his way for a makeup retouch before his interview with the Washington Redskins' quarterback, which was going to take place in the next segment. She took the seat opposite the writer and extended her hand. "I'm Traci. Sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier."

Lauren grasped the chilled palm and gave it a companionable squeeze. "Lauren Strayer. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Traci looked slightly harried. "I just got the call they needed me to come in an hour ago, and I had to make a mad dash for the studio." The forty-something woman needed all the time in makeup she could get. "I made a few notes while they were fixing my hair." She smiled. "I hope you don't mind if my questions are a little rough."

The older woman's friendly demeanor instantly put Lauren at ease. "No... I ..." She blushed slightly and forced her hands to stop twitching. "That's fine. As long as you don't mind a slightly nervous guest. I don't really do TV interviews, so this will be something of a first."

Traci nodded and gave Lauren's arm a sympathetic squeeze. "Live TV is always a little nerve racking. But you'll do fine."

A man suddenly appeared a few feet in front of Lauren and Traci, but well off camera. He held up five fingers. Then four, three, two, one. Traci smiled. "Welcome back to
Wake Up, America
. I'm Traci Corbin, filling in for Debby, who is home sick today. With us this morning, we have Presidential biographer, Lauren Strayer." She turned to face Lauren. "Good morning."

"Mornin'."

"That's quite a job you have, Ms. Strayer! Following around after President Marlowe. Is it as exciting as it sounds?"

Lauren smiled as just a little more of her nervousness floated away with the simple question. "Sure. Sometimes. The White House is a whirlwind of activity. Always. And sometimes it's just a lot of hard work. I spend most of my time experiencing what the President does throughout her day, and the rest of my time doing research and organizing what I learned, so that, in the end, I'll be able to distill four years into a single book that's an accurate portrait of President Marlowe."

"Interesting." Traci tapped her chin as though she were truly considering her next question. "So how do you produce an," her fingers fashioned quote marks in the air, and her eyes took on a slightly predatory gleam, "'accurate portrait' when you're sleeping with your subject?"

Dev's face dropped to her hands as she groaned. "Oh, my God."

The sounds of the President's groans were nearly drowned by the other moans echoing around her.

Dev peeked between her fingers so she could continue to watch the interview. "Come on, Mighty Mouse; don't let that bitch fluster you. You're better than that, sweetheart."

Lauren blinked at the interviewer, momentarily stunned by the blunt question.

Traci stared back at Lauren and a tiny, almost imperceptible smile twitched at her lips
. I just got my Associated Press quote. Fuck 'Wake Up America'! I want my own show. And Marlowe can kiss my ass.

Dev had denied Traci's repeated requests for a one-on-one interview. Traci had been persistent. Too persistent, actually. And she'd gotten a little visit from the Secret Service, who not so politely asked her to tone it down or risk prosecution under DC's stalking laws and a host of other federal statutes enacted to protect the President. They'd even revoked her press credentials for a short while, placing her on a probationary status. Her! Traci Corbin!