“I’m sorry, were you talking? I went to sleep after ‘balance the books.’”
“It’s not that bad. What do you want me to say? ‘Bind up the nation’s wounds, with charity toward all and malice toward none’?”
“I think we need to work on it.”
“Evidament.” Randy sighed.
“No French.”
“Quite right. Muchas gracias. Quй bonita es este burrito.”
Now here they were in a hotel suite that was decorated for sex. She’d finally run out of reasons not to go to bed with him. She looked at him sitting on the bed and said, “It’s been a long day. I don’t think I have the energy to run.”
“Glad to hear it. Why don’t you walk that bottle of Dom Pйrignon over here. Damn thing cost three hundred and fifteen bucks in room service. Reckon we might as well drink it.”
Cass brought it over and sat on the bed. “That may be the only time in history the words reckon and Dom Pйrignon have been used in a single sentence.”
“I’m just a simple boy from Boston,” Randy said, twisting off the cork with the expertise of a three-star sommelier. “You remember that beer we drank in Bosnia? Right before I got us blown up?”
“The beer you drank. I was on duty.”
“It wasn’t that bad, really. But this will be better. Certainly ought to be, at these prices.”
“Do rich people also complain about prices?”
“Always. It’s how they got rich.”
He poured the Champagne into their glasses. The tiny bubbles tickled on the way down.
He put his chin on her shoulder. “Want to watch a dirty movie on the television?”
Cass said, “Sure, but do you really want an item appearing on Page Six of the Post the day after tomorrow about how Latex Ladies Three was charged to the hotel bill of a certain senator?”
“Good thinking, Devine. You’re a good handler.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. “Want to be part of my brain trust?”
“I don’t know.” Cass kissed him back. “What’s in it for me?”
“Expensive French Champagne? We’ll start you off in the secretarial pool. Can you type?”
Successful, busy men are by nature impatient, and though Frank Cohane found it pleasant enough to listen to Bucky Trumble go on and on about how much the president appreciated his efforts in recruiting more big-donor Owls to the party, he was thinking: Can we move along to the part where I get a “significant” ambassadorship?
Instead, Bucky cleared his throat and said, “Frank, I need to speak with you about something. On a discreet basis.”
“Okay.”
“It concerns Cassandra Devine.”
Frank’s stomach muscles contracted. “Yeah?”
Bucky cleared his throat again. “I believe you two are…”
“Related. Yeah. She’s my daughter.”
“Right.” Awkward silence. “That was our information as well.”
“We’re not in touch. It’s been many years.”
“I guess that would account for your not having brought it up.”
“Bring what up? I said, I haven’t talked to her in-hell, this century.”
Another silence. “What I’m about to tell you is highly sensitive information.”
“We keep secrets here, too, Bucky.”
“You’re aware she was arrested and charged with a very serious crime.”
“It was on the cover of Time, and she’s, ah, my daughter, so-yeah.”
“The government-that is, the attorney general-decided not to pursue the charges, on the strictly legal grounds that successfully prosecuting her would in all likelihood prove difficult.”
“Uh-huh.” Where was this going?
“So she walked out of jail a free woman. It only then came to our attention-that is, the president’s and mine-that she was the daughter of one of our most valued donors.”
“I don’t know how many ways to say it, Buck. We haven’t seen each other in-”
“That’s not really the issue.” Pregnant pause. “Is it, Frank?”
“It is as far as I’m concerned.”
“Let me tell you how we see it. If I may?”
“Shoot.”
“Let me state clearly and absolutely that the White House did not influence the decision of the attorney general. But the AG is a cabinet officer in this administration. So you have a situation where as far as the media would view it…the government decided not to prosecute the daughter of a major party donor.”
“I didn’t ask you for any favors for her.”
“No, you didn’t. You absolutely didn’t. And the president and I appreciate that. We do. Still and all, Frank, it might have been helpful if you’d given us a little, you know, heads-up that this radioactive young lady was-your daughter.”
It had been a long time since anyone had criticized Frank Cohane, even mildly. (Except his wife, who exercised high, middle, and low rights of spousal criticism.) He was tempted to tell Bucky Trumble that if he felt that way, he could return Frank’s half-million-dollar donation.
But people, even very successful ones, tend not to speak that way to someone who sits at the right hand of the president of the United States, a position that for all its many faults still packs a nasty punch. Especially when they’ve told their wives that they’re about to be appointed to the Court of St. James’s and they’ll be presenting their credentials to the queen of England. And probably staying over at Buckingham Palace for dinner.
“I’m…” Frank reached for the word. What was the word, anyway? “Sorry if…I’ve been busy as hell here. We’re launching a new software, and I’ve been focused 24/7 on…”
Bucky let him prattle on a bit and then said, “I understand. But sooner or later the media are going to make the connection. So the question really is, where do we go from here?”
The sentence hovered between the two men like a malignant hummingbird. Frank saw the “significant” ambassadorship he wasn’t even sure he wanted suddenly going pfffut. Which, human nature being what it is, suddenly made him crave it above all earthly things. He saw himself explaining to Lisa that she would not, in fact, be dining with the queen and Prince Philip.
Then Bucky said, “I have some thoughts. May I share them with you?”
“Yeah,” said Frank. “Sure.”
“We were thinking that if you brought the connection to the media’s attention, in such a way as to demonstrate that you’re opposed to what she stands for and did…that that might solve the immediate problem.”
The third long silence of their conversation settled in.
“In other words, you want me to publicly denounce my daughter?”
“‘Denounce’ is a loaded term. Let’s say distance. As long as you make it clear that you don’t approve of what she did, and clarify that you haven’t even been on speaking terms for-since the last century. I think that would do it.”
A roar of sea lions suddenly broke in through Frank’s open window and into Frank’s speakerphone.
“What in the name of God was that?” Bucky said.
“Sea lions. They probably saw a great white.”
“Where were we?”
“You want me to distance myself from my daughter.”
“I’d sure rather that than us have to distance ourselves from you. The president values you. I can’t emphasize that enough. He talks about you all the time. I’ve gotta go. Will you think about it and get back to me one way or the other? And Frank?”