President's Girlfriend 07 - What He Did for Love (12 page)

Christian nodded with conviction.  “I won’t, sir.”

Dutch stared at him, and then he leaned forward.  “It’s never easy, son, when you want what you can’t have.”

Christian looked at him.  “You’ve been there before, sir?”

Dutch hesitated, as memories flashed through his mind.  Of various women.  Including Lenora.  “Yes,” he said, and finished gulping down his bottle of water.

Christian waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.  After a while, Christian decided it was best to move on, too.

“Jade called me last night,” he said.

Dutch didn’t look at him, but Christian could see the difference in his demeanor.  “Did she?”

“Yes, sir.  She wanted to know if you made a decision about seeing her again.”

“No, no decision,” Dutch said as he stood to his feet.  Christian quickly stood, too.  “The Speaker will be here soon so I’d better go shower and change.”  Dutch began heading for the exit. “I’ll see you later,” he said as he went, tossing his empty bottle of water in the trash bin as he walked pass.

Christian watched him leave.  Human beings were the oddest of creatures, and even the president was no exception, he thought.  At the drop of a hat he was more than willing to untangle other people’s messy problems and shortcomings, but he never seemed willing to even attempt to unravel his own.

At Blair House, LaLa sat at her breakfast table feeding Nicole, her baby girl.  Crader came in, kissed Nicole, and sat on the opposite end, at the head of the table.  The cook immediately arrived from the kitchen.

“Just toast and juice, please,” Crader said.

“Yes, sir,” the cook replied and made her way back into the kitchen.

LaLa looked at him.  “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied.  LaLa sighed, and continued to feed their daughter.

Instead of the night bringing about peace, or even a truce, she felt as if Crader seemed to have dug in. 

And she was right.  Crader couldn’t get over it.  He tried, but he couldn’t do it.  The more he thought about some upstart like Christian Bale making love to his wife, the angrier he became.  He knew it wasn’t fair.  He knew he had blood on his own hands where other women were concerned, but he couldn’t pretend he was okay with it.  Because he wasn’t.  He hated the mere thought of it.

After LaLa finished feeding Nicole and the Nanny removed her to bathe and dress her, and after Crader’s toast and juice arrived, LaLa decided to give it another try.

“Big day for you today,” she said.

Crader, however, didn’t respond.

LaLa refused to let his shitty mood deter her.  “Although, in truth,” she continued, “you’ve been handling many of the day-to-day duties of the presidency for a full month now.  Ever since Gina’s accident.  But it’ll be official today.  So,” she said, attempting to smile, “how do you feel?”

But Crader would not play along.  “How do you think I feel, La?” he asked angrily.  “Want me to forget about last night and we all just get along?  Well, I can’t forget about it!  You betrayed me, and there’s no getting over that!”

LaLa just sat there.  She didn’t know what else she could do.  “Crader, I told you I feel terrible about what happened.  I told you I was sorry.  I asked your forgiveness.  I don’t know what more you want from me.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Maybe you can begin with fidelity.  Maybe you can begin to be a wife who doesn’t happen to be some trash-barrel whore!”

LaLa jumped from her seat.  “Now you wait a
got
damn minute!” she bellowed.  “I messed up, and you have a right to be angry and hurt and upset with me.  But you don’t have a right to disrespect me and call me such a horrible name.”

“Change shoes, La.  Put yourself in my shoes.  What would you call it then?  What would you call a woman who cheats on her husband?  A woman who made a mistake?  Is that what you’d call it?  You cheated, La, and with Christian of all people!  You cheated!  You didn’t make a mistake!”

“Yes, I did,” LaLa said, staring unblinkingly at her husband.  “I made the mistake of thinking that you actually loved me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now.  It’s all because I don’t love you.  You fucked Christian because I don’t love you.  That’s what you’re telling yourself now?”

“You love me when I do everything right, and I’m at your beck and call, and I make you the center of everything that I am.  You falter, I forgive you.  You falter again, I forgive you again.  Over and over I forgive you.  Because you’re my husband I foolishly thought this marriage was worth it.  But I falter, then I’m a whore, I’m a cheat, I’m somebody you’re ready to discard because I’m not everything that’s good and right in this world anymore.  Oh, yes, I made a mistake, all right.  Just not the one you mean.”

And LaLa, refusing to shed another tear after a night of tears, walked out of the dining room.  Crader sat there.   And then threw his plate against the wall.

Freshly showered, shaved, and dressed for his upcoming meeting with the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Dutch hurried down the stairs in search of his wife and son.  Once on the first floor, he was about to head for the kitchen, but Franklin informed him that they were outside in the back courtyard.

Dutch thanked his house manager and headed in that direction.  When he opened the double French doors, and saw his wife and son, he sighed relief.  While he was dressing upstairs, a queasiness had come over him that made him anxious to see their faces again. 

And then to see Gina, running around the paved courtyard fully dressed in her Prada pantsuit and Christian Louboutin heels, with their little son chasing her, was a sight to behold.

Dutch took a seat on the patio and watched with a smile on his own face as his wife and son seemed to be having the time of their lives.  Especially Gina, who couldn’t stop grinning as she made sure she stayed just out of Little Walt’s short reach.  Walt was smiling, too, but Dutch could see that fierce determination on his handsome brown face.  He was enjoying himself, but he wanted to win.  He had to catch her, his face seemed to say, if it was the last thing he did.

And when Gina saw Dutch seated in the chair on the front end of the courtyard, she raced toward him grinning so widely that Dutch couldn’t help but laugh, too. 

“Dutch, help!” Gina was yelling as she ran.  “Save me from Little Walt!  Save me from this fast and powerful little boy of yours!”

Dutch laughed loudly as Gina ran and jumped onto his lap.  He held her tightly as she pushed against him just as Little Walt ran up and flopped his short arms onto Gina’s lap.  He was so tired he could hardly breathe. 

“You okay, son?” Dutch asked between laughs.

Little Walt had to take a few more breaths before he could speak.  “Yes, sir,” he said, breathing hard and fast.  Then he nodded his head.  “Mommy’s fast,” he said.

Dutch grinned.  “Yeah, she’s fast already,” he said.  

Then Dutch called for Nanny.

“Take Walter into the kitchen and get him some juice.”

“Water first,” Little Walt said.

Dutch smiled and ruffled Walt’s curly hair.  “Water first,” he said to the Nanny.  “And then some juice.”

“Yes, sir,” the older black woman said as she took Walter by the hand and escorted him back into the main house.

Gina wrapped her arms around Dutch’s neck and looked at him.  He was dressed in a light brown suit that contrasted beautifully with his big green eyes.  “You look handsome this morning,” she said.

“Thank-you.”

“How do you feel?” she asked, straightening his tie.  “Excited?”

“I would say yes.”

Gina smiled.  “Good.”

“What about you?” Dutch asked, looking at her with concern in his eyes.  “How do you feel?”

“Me?  I feel great.  After your meeting with Birdie this will be the first day of the rest of our lives, and I can’t wait to get started.” 

Dutch continued to stare at her.  “You do understand that we’ll never be completely private citizens.  You do understand that, darling, right?”

“I understand it,” Gina said, still looking at his tie.  “You’ll be a former president who’s still young and vibrant.  We’ll still be fodder for gossip sheets and imaginary scandals, I know.  But at least we won’t be in Washington.”

Dutch smiled.  “At least that,” he said and continued to stare at her until she looked her big brown eyes into his big green ones.  His heart swelled with love when she looked at him.  “I’m going to make it up to you, Regina Harber.  You hear me?”

“Make what up to me?”

“All of the peace and quiet you’ve been denied ever since you married me.”

“But Dutch, you were a sitting president when I married you.  I knew what I was getting into.  I would have been a fool to expect peace and quiet back then.”

“That still doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some now.  Because you do.  Because I see your good works, Gina.  You’re a great mother to our son.  You’re a great wife to me.  And you’re a great friend and mentor to so many others.  It was the best move I’ve ever made when I married you.”

“Oh, Dutch,” Gina said and kissed him on the lips.  When she thought to end the kiss, he wouldn’t let her.  He, instead, kissed her harder and longer and more passionately. 

When he did allow her to come back up for air, a memory flashed through his head.  He and Gina were on the Truman balcony at the White House, and it was the same day she was subsequently shot.  And that same queasiness he had that day, was the queasiness he was feeling earlier, and again right now. 

A worried look crossed his face, as he remembered that day, and how he should have kept her with him.  She would not have been injured, he felt, if he would have paid more attention to his feelings.

But Dutch knew Gina.  He knew she was a stubborn broad and it would take more than a feeling to keep her from her carefully laid out plans. 

“Still sore?” he asked her.

She smiled.  Sometimes Dutch’s appetite for her simply amazed her.  “You know I am,” she said, hitting him on the chest.  “After those numerous poundings you put on me.”

“But I would have thought, after my, how do I say it?  After my meal this morning, it would have soothed you.”

Gina remembered this morning, when she woke up to the feel of Dutch’s mouth feasting on her pussy.

“Soothing me wasn’t exactly what that meal was about, was it?” Gina said and Dutch laughed.

And then Franklin appeared and announced the arrival of the Speaker.

“Here we go,” Dutch said as he tapped his wife on her hip, prompting her to get off of his lap.  He then stood and began buttoning his suit coat.

He kissed Gina on the mouth.  “It shouldn’t take more than a couple minutes with Birdie,” he said.

“A couple minutes?” Gina asked doubtfully.  “I don’t know, Dutch. He’s supposed to be on a mission to get you to change your mind.”

“That’s why it won’t take more than a couple minutes.”

Gina laughed as they began heading for the entrance.  “I’ve got to freshen up, anyway, before I leave.  Thanks to that son of yours.  I can’t go to BBR all sweaty.”

Dutch, walking behind her, placed his hands on her hips.  “You don’t sweat,” he said.  “And I’ve given you enough workouts to know that with quite a degree of accuracy.”

Gina smiled as they walked through the French doors.

CHAPTER TEN

Twenty minutes later, Birdie Camp was finally beginning to get the message: Dutch Harber’s decision to resign the presidency of the United States would not be altered.  But he continued to try, anyway.

“There’s concerns, Dutch, and you know this, about the vice president.”

They were in Dutch’s home office, with Dutch seated behind the desk and Benjamin “Birdie” Camp, the Speaker of the House of Representatives, seated in front of the desk.  Birdie’s long legs were extended outward, his elbows resting on either arm of the wingback chair, and his well-worn suit was stained and wrinkled.   He used to be a Jesuit priest who still abstained from worldly pursuits.  But even in his rumbled appearance, even with his thick brown hair barely combed, he was still eye candy to the ladies.  From his big blue eyes and beautiful smile, to his long, lithe body, many women had tried, and failed, to win him over. 

Dutch’s view of him, however, was less contentious.  He trusted Birdie Camp.  He saw him as a man of faith and unquestioned integrity who had Dutch’s complete confidence.

But even Birdie wasn’t going to change Dutch’s mind.

“Crader has been an excellent vice president,” Dutch said.  “Does he have faults?  Yes, of course he does.  But he’s a leader.”

“Yes, he’s an excellent leader.  As far as it goes.  But his temperament, Dutch.  You’re talking about entrusting the presidency to a man with his temperament.  You’re talking about entrusting the presidency to a man who flies off the handle with the least provocation.”

“When he became vice president, as you well know, he became the person who was first in the line of succession.  It was already decided then that he was presidential material.  I don’t get your concern, Birdie.”

“He has a lot of issues,” Birdie explained.  “He’s an infamous womanizer.  And then there’s the discovery of that child conceived while he was engaged to his current wife.  And again, yes, his bad temper.  It makes you wonder if a man like that is the best we can do.”

“He’s the best,” Dutch said in defense of Crader.  “He has issues, yes, he does.  Sometimes I’m astounded myself by his lack of self-restraint.  But he loves his country and will fight for it.  And he’s more than capable of fulfilling my term.”

“But he has no self-restraint, you just said so yourself.   And remember he wasn’t elected by the American people, but was chosen by you when our elected vice president was forced to resign.”

“And he was confirmed by a majority of both Houses of Congress, Birdie.  With no serious opposition to that appointment whatsoever.”

Birdie stared at Dutch.  “So you won’t reconsider this decision?”

Dutch looked Birdie dead in the eye.  “Absolutely not,” he said.

Birdie finally smiled, and admitted defeat.  He stood to his feet.  “I should have known it would be a cold day in hell before you changed your mind.”