“I guess I didn’t!”
“—and I could tell you were giving me some very close looks.”
“What’re you gettin’ at? I had no idea, I’m tellin’ you. No idea!”
“Uh-huh. Methinks the boy doth protest too much.”
“Are you tryin’ to say—” Loving inflated his massive chest. His T-shirt still hung around him in tatters. “Listen, buster, I had no idea. Got it? No idea. I’m all guy—like one hundred percent all guy. And I like girls.”
“I can be your girl.”
Loving was wild-eyed. “No, you can’t!”
“Are you afraid I don’t have the right parts to pop your cork? Because I can assure you, I do.”
“Would you stop talkin’ like that? There ain’t gonna be any…cork-poppin’. Understand?”
“Maybe we’re moving too fast. You’re more of a traditionalist, aren’t you? We should go out on a date first. Get some dinner. Maybe take in a movie.”
“We are not goin’ out on a date!”
“Why not? No one would know. About me, I mean. You didn’t.”
“Someone might!” He pounded the table. “No wonder all those people laughed every time I said I was looking for you. They thought I—aaarghh!”
“So you’re saying, as long as no one knows about me, it would be okay?”
Loving fairly shouted. “No! I am not saying it would be okay! It would never be okay!”
Trudy sniffed. “Suit yourself. But you’re making a big mistake. You’re missing out on the best time you ever had.”
“Oh, right.”
“And you haven’t had any for a good long time.”
“How would you know?”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
He pulled at his legs, trying to free himself. “I want you to let me loose, got it? Right now.”
“Your wish is my command.” Trudy produced a key and uncuffed his ankles.
“Thank you so very much. Mister.”
Trudy looked into a nearby mirror and reattached the wig. “But even if we can’t be together, we can still…work together, right?”
“No way in hell.”
“Why not?”
Loving jumped off the bed. “ ’Cause I don’t work with…with…”
“Yes?”
“ ’Cause I don’t do that kinda stuff.”
“What kinda stuff?”
“That…kinky stuff.”
“Good heavens, man, I’m asking to work with you to get in to see Renny, not to nibble your pickle.”
“You stop that kinda talk right now!”
“What kinda talk?”
“That—that—you know!”
“All right, all right. But you’re still going to need me, so I’m coming with.”
“Need you? At a redneck bar? Like I’m really gonna need a—”
“Yes?”
“A Trudy!”
Trudy made a few touch-ups with a mascara wand, then turned and smiled. Loving had to admit she—he, damn it—was gorgeous, even under the circumstances. “I think you’ll find a Trudy is a very useful thing to have in this particular redneck bar. You’re going to need some…distractions. I can provide that. Big-time. And face it, I know the territory. You don’t.”
Loving headed toward the door. His head was throbbing—for more reasons than he could count at the moment—but even if his head were missing, he was still getting out of this place. And he didn’t want any part of…Trudy.
“Why would you help me? What’s in it for you?”
“Maybe I just want to spend some more time with my new tall, dark, and handsome.” Trudy leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. Loving recoiled.
“Don’t even think about it!”
“All right, sweetie. Whatever you want.”
“And don’t call me sweetie!”
“Whatever you want, sugar.”
“Would you stop that!”
“Of course I will, honey-pie. Now, are you going to drive, or shall I?”
35
Within thirty minutes of the close of the day’s hearings, the news of the latest development in the Roush nomination was global. Every podium, every channel, every water cooler seemed obsessed with the same subject. In Ben’s office and every other office in Washington, D.C., the phones were ringing nonstop and the fax machines were in perpetual motion. Ben’s e-mail server was so clogged Jones eventually just deleted all messages and hoped he hadn’t missed anything important. The Christian Congregation scheduled a rally outside the gates of the White House, and Richard Trevor was demanding that the President withdraw Roush’s nomination based on his “decadent character.” In response, numerous gay and lesbian organizations issued statements or scheduled press conferences to support Roush and demand that the President reaffirm the nomination, claiming that the references to character were a screen for homophobia. A pundit on MSNBC noted that Roush’s partner Eastwick had never appeared in the hearing room, despite the fact that he was no longer in custody, and referred to him as the “gay divorcée.”
“Well, that was about the worst thing that could possibly happen,” Sexton said, tsking his lips as an indication of his disgust. The Roush support team had gathered in the conference room in Senator Hammond’s office to concoct some plan for what to do next, while Roush himself was outside making phone calls on his cell.
“Agreed,” Hammond said sadly, running his fingers through his long gray locks. “The man lost the support of his party before the hearing began. Now he’s lost the support of our party as well.”
“I don’t get it,” Ben said. He was pacing in circles around the conference table. “They’re dumping him because he allegedly went to bars? Who in the Senate hasn’t? Because he may have had consensual sexual relations? Who in the Senate hasn’t?”
“The problem is that he’s gay,” Christina said, as she came through the door, a tall stack of styrofoam containers tucked under her chin. They had opted to bring dinner in. They didn’t have time to visit any of the Senate cafeterias, and probably wouldn’t have been left alone for ten seconds if they had.
Christina took a seat and began handing out the meals. “They may call it a character issue. But it’s only an issue because he’s gay.”
“For once, I agree with the redhead,” Beauregard said, speaking while simultaneously scanning the latest tracking polls. “This was a back-door way of making sexual preference an issue. Most Americans aren’t all that comfortable with male homosexual sex anyway. Fox News has been going wild with it—sidebar stories on the ‘gay lifestyle’ and ‘the dark world of sexual fetishes.’ Larry King hosted a debate on whether gay bars should be allowed within a mile of public schools. USA Today has a feature story headlined ‘Are Gays Really More Promiscuous?’ Face it—they scored on us big-time the instant they got someone to say the phrase ‘gay bar.’ ‘Orgies’ worked well for them, also.”
“And I must say, speaking as an image consultant,” Carraway added, “the witness looked great on television. He obviously spent a lot of time considering his wardrobe. Gay or not, he made a positive impression.”
“Even if he was a right-wing flunky?” Ben asked. “Even if he was paid?”
“I’m not sure it matters. Gay sex is not a vote-getter in Middle America. Toss in some threesomes and orgies—” Beauregard shivered. “Ugh.”
“Any word on whether it’s true?” Carraway asked.
Ben shook his head. “Roush keeps repeating his professional mantra: I will not discuss my private life. But honestly—orgies? I can’t believe it.”
“Ben always thinks the best of his clients,” Christina said, by way of explanation. “Not necessarily a good thing.”
“Come on. Roush is a federal judge. How long could he possibly keep something like that quiet?”