Citizens Against Government Waste gave him the award for Most Wasteful Senator three years running. Common Cause called him a “disgrace.” The New York Times said that not since Boss Tweed had a politician pandered as much to his constituency. And pointed out that Cummings had named more than fifty buildings and highways for himself.
And Helen didn’t give a damn.
Through seniority and gall, David had become one of the most senior players in all of the Senate. Which meant that his colleagues went along with his largesse or they suffered the consequences. And Helen was great at thinking up consequences. She was a positive master at it. Just ask the congressman whose dalliance with a Hollywood starlet became front-page news. Or the congressman whose gay boyfriend was revealed to be a French spy. Or the black senator whose husband was shown to be embezzling funds from her office. For Helen, retribution was always swift and deadly and served as a warning to others. This is what happened to this senator; it could just as easily happen to you.
Everything had been going fine until the diagnosis several months ago...
A knock. Or was it?
David, sitting in the leather recliner, was caught up in the video of Thunderbolt and Lightfoot, Jeff Bridges being just as good as Clint himself in this particular movie... David couldn’t be sure if it was somebody knocking or not.
Hadn’t heard a car drive up. Hadn’t seen any headlights wash across the front window the way they did, hadn’t heard any voices... just this small knocking sound.
Put down his drink. Picked himself up from his recliner. Walked across the large living room.
On the way, he glanced out the window. And saw it.
Sitting right in the drive. Brazen as its owner. Darcy’s little red sports car.
Oh, God, was Helen going to chew his ass out. She’d blame him for Darcy coming here. She wouldn’t believe that he’d been innocent.
He opened the door.
She smiled, fetchingly as always, half innocence, half sexuality, and said, “Is this the orphanage? I’m just a lost little waif looking for shelter.”
“Did you bring the photos?”
That was her only legitimate reason to be here as far as he was concerned. The photos. And the negatives.
“Gee, I thought you liked me, David. I just stop by to be friendly and you jump me about the photos.”
“I want them, Darcy. Now.”
For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for being stupid enough to get involved with her. Her mother — how it all started — was one of the local leaders in David’s reelection campaign. Her mother had hosted several fund-raising events for him, one of them in her own home. This was where he’d met Darcy.
Being involved with underage girls was some kind of weird vampire thing was all he could conclude. He sucked their youth from them and that gave him the power he needed to go on. One day he wanted to drop off a pair of nice senatorial cuff links for Darcy’s father. Darcy answered the door. Her parents weren’t home. She invited David in for a cup of coffee. He knew he shouldn’t but he did. And that’s how it started. Before he left that day, he’d made love twice to a fifteen-year-old girl. The thing was, he hadn’t thought about his cancer that entire afternoon. She made him forget things. Not until last week had he learned that she kept a camera in her bedroom closet. She knew how to operate it automatically. A kid at school had rigged it up for her. She photographed all her lovers, she’d giggled when she’d first shown David the photos. The difference was, David had said, not all her lovers were United States senators up for reelection.
Now, standing in his doorway, she said, “I don’t know what you’re so worried about.”
“If you’re not going to do anything with them, why do you want to keep them?”
“Because it’s fun.”
He could see the pleasure she took in all this. Took him a few times with her to understand how much she liked having power over him. Now that he understood it, now that he knew she had those photos, it scared the shit out of him.
“You going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Darcy.”
“Bet your sister wouldn’t like it, huh?”
“I just don’t think it’d be a good idea. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“You still mad about this afternoon?”
“This afternoon?”
“When you pulled into that gas station and I got you on the phone.”
“Oh. No. I’m not mad about that anymore. But I still think you should leave.”
She looked at him and smiled. “I thought maybe we could talk about the photos.”
He could see she was playing a game.
She wanted anything she couldn’t get.
Right now, that meant she wanted to be inside his house. Just to prove to herself that she could do it.
“You’re just playing games.”
“No, I’m not. I just want to spend a little time with you.”
“And then you’ll give me the photos?”
She thought a moment. “Yes.”
“You have them with you?”
She tapped her fashionable little arm-slung purse. “Right here.”
“And the negatives?”
She tapped the purse again. “Right here.”
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
She gave him a mock pout. “I thought you trusted me.”
“Yeah, right, Darcy.” Then, “You really have the photos with you?”
“I really do.”
“And you’re going to give them to me?”
“If you invite me in.”
“What made you change your mind?”
The mock pout again. “Maybe I just don’t like to see you so unhappy.”
Bitch, he thought. Little bitch.
She was great at power games. No doubt about it. Helen could put her to good use in the Senate.
But what choice did he have?
How could he turn her away when there was the possibility, however slim, that maybe he really was going to get the photos?
He looked out at the yard behind her. The brown grass was already sodden with rain. Almost every night, raccoons and opossums came up on the lawn and ate the food he left out for them. He loved animals. That was one reason he hated the rain. The animals stayed in. He hoped they were warm and dry wherever they were.
“I’m going to be very, very pissed if you’re lying to me, Darcy.”
“Lying to you?”
“About having the photos.”
“Oh.”
“So are you telling me the truth? You really have the photos with you?”
A tiny, enigmatic smile, crushingly sexual. He could taste her, feel her. Whatever else Darcy was, she was a wonderful lover.
“I have the photos.”
“And the negatives?”
“And the negatives.”
“And you’re going to give them to me?”
The smile again. “If you let me come in. And if you’re nice to me.”
He stood back from the door. “Come in, then.”
The moment he said it, he knew that he’d made a mistake.
But by then, of course, it was too late.
Darcy was already inside.