A deep and terrible silence came over the Great Hall during which the sound of subatomic particles coming together would have been louder than clashing cymbals.
Justice Santamaria leaned forward into his microphone and said to the lawyer, “It’s an interesting point and one, to be honest, I hadn’t considered. So, Counselor, do you think Quasimodo v. Notre Dame Bellringers Guild has application here?”
The Great Hall erupted with laughter. It filled the marmoreal space like helium. Never in the memory of the eldest present Court watcher had there been such a spontaneous explosion of levity. Justice Hardwether, struggling himself not to join in, finally tapped his gavel to restore decorum.
PAIGE PLYMPTON came to Pepper’s chambers, where the newest justice had been having a good sob.
“My first oral argument,” Paige said, “I became so befuddled that I kept referring to Gideon v. Wheelwright.”
Pepper dabbed at her eyes and stared blearily.
Paige added, “And of course it’s Gideon v. Wainwright. Well, my dear, let me tell you, ‘mortified’ is no mere expression.”
“Thanks, Paige,” Pepper said, honking into her tissue, “that makes me feel a whole lot better.”
The next day’s Washington Post brought a predictable harvest of shame: a story in the Style section about the TV Justice’s first day of oral argument. It was illustrated with a still photograph from the movie The Hunchback of Notre Dame, with Pepper’s face superimposed over Maureen O’Hara’s offering a sip of water to Quasimodo.
There was a second serving of crow, this one in the form of a headline:
DEXTER MITCHELL (FINALLY) BECOMES PRESIDENT CONNECTICUT SENATOR TO STAR IN NEW TV SERIES
Pepper’s eyed widened as she caught a familiar name in the second paragraph.
Buddy Bixby, producer of TV’s “Courtroom Six” and other reality shows, today confirmed that he has offered Senator Dexter Mitchell (D-Conn) the lead role in a projected prime-time dramatic series tentatively named “POTUS.” The term is the White House abbreviation for “President of the United States.”
Bixby said that he became interested in casting Senator Mitchell during the Pepper Cartwright hearings.
“I’ve been in this business long enough to know talent when I see it,” Bixby said in a telephone interview from his Manhattan office. “He’s got it-intelligence, looks, and credibility. He’s been there and done that. He’ll make a completely believable president. Who knows where it could lead,” the producer said with a laugh, “look what happened to the last person I discovered.”
His wife, Pepper Cartwright, was recently confirmed to the Supreme Court. The couple are reportedly divorcing. Bixby is also suing Justice Cartwright for breach of contract for leaving “Courtroom Six.”
CHAPTER 16
Dexter was pleased by the turnout of reporters for his farewell press conference. Buddy had wanted him to hold it outdoors, on the West Front of the Capitol Building, where incoming U.S. presidents were now inaugurated. Dexter briefly mulled the notion before (wisely) vetoing it. He’d have his moment on the West Front someday. For now, the Strom Thurmond Memorial Room would do nicely enough. His press secretary made sure that the podium was within camera range of the bust of JFK, to remind the viewers subliminally of another New England senator who had gone on to bigger things.
“This is a bittersweet day for me,” Dexter began, casting his eyes downward while biting his lower lip, a gesture he had learned from a master politician. He gave Terry-“my life’s partner,” as he put it-a brave glance. Camera shutters clicked away like demonic crickets. Dexter’s face was momentarily bathed in so much flashlight that he feared he might never see again. Terry did her best to look wistful while inwardly doing cartwheels and jetés of unbridled joy. We’re in the mo-ney, we’re in the mo-ney! Dexter gave his life’s partner a little nod of encouragement as if to say, I know it’s hard, honey, but together, we’ll get through this. Terry looked back at him as if to say, Yes, dear, it is hard. It’s all I can do to keep from shouting “Free at last, free at last! Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last!” Terry tried not to think of the bigger house. Of the beach house. Of a house in the south of France. Of not having to spend another day on K Street wheedling railroad subsidies out of her husband’s colleagues.
She stirred from the delicious reverie and crashed back into reality and the sound of her husband’s voice. What was he talking about now? She heard the phrase “decades of public service.” Oh, no. God, no. Please, someone-interrupt him with a question or we’ll all be here until the polar ice caps melt.
“When I first arrived in Washington twenty-three years ago,” he was saying, “this was a very different place from the one it is now…”
Unlike, say, any other place on the planet? Jesus, Dex. Please. Someone-for the love of God-ask a question…
“But whatever Washington has become, I feel-at least, I’d like to be able to feel-that I’ve made some small difference. Some contribution. I believe it was Christopher Wren, the architect of St. Paul ’s Cathedral over there in London…”
“Over there in London ”? Put a sock in it, Dex.
“… whose epitaph reads…”
No, no. Do not compare yourself to the architect of St. Paul ’s Cathedral…
“ ‘If it’s monuments you want, just look around.’ Well,” Dexter continued with transparently insincere self-deprecation, “I certainly don’t merit a marble bust. But I am darn proud to leave behind some solid pieces of legislation. In particular-”
“Senator-?”
Oh, thank you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart…
Dexter, halted in mid-self-adulation, said with a trace of irritation, “Yes, Judy?”
“What about these reports that you wanted to stay on in the Senate while doing the TV show?”
Fucking Clem.
“Oh… no. No, no. No. I mean, there were-we had-there was… there may have been some very theoretical… discussion. But no. Well, there were those who wanted me to stay on, but-”
“Such as who?”
Dexter laughed. “Well, now, we don’t need to get into all that. Myself, I never thought that was realistic. Being in the Senate is a full-time job. A more than full-time job. Just ask my life’s partner, here. Aack.”
Terry stalwartly grinned. You’re such a dick, Dexter.
“And it’s a full-time honor, let me add. So I… That never really made much sense as an option. Yes, Candy?”
“Is it true you’re getting fifty thousand dollars per episode?”
Fucking Buddy.
“Well now-aack-I don’t-there’s no point in… Someone else is handling all that. But I can tell you this much-on an hourly basis, it pays a little better than the Senate. But let me talk for just a moment here about some of the things I’m proudest of having accomplished during my years in the-”
Someone-please-ask him another question.
“Is it true Ramona Alvilar has been cast to play the First Lady?”
“My understanding,” Dexter said, “is that those negotiations are ongoing. You’d have to ask Buddy Bixby. Of course, from my perspective, it would be wonderful if she were to be my wife.” Dexter stopped and looked over at Terry. “I think I just said the wrong thing.”
Laughter. Terry smiled. “Yes, honey. You did.” You ass.
More laughter.
“But if I might get back to some of the judiciary reform initiatives that I’m proudest of… let me point to the Uniform Appellate Modification Act of-”
“Senator, this presidential one-term limit amendment that just cleared the House and looks to be approved overwhelmingly by the Senate.”
“What about it?”
“How do you feel about it?”
That cocksucker Vanderdamp deserves everything he gets.