“I understand. This is going to be tough enough.”
Declan said sheepishly, “I’m certainly going to miss our… our… little…”
“You’re going to miss getting laid, is what you’re trying to say.”
He blushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yeah, you did.” She gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. “I’ll try to channel my frustrated lust into oral argument. See you in Court, Chiefy.” She said after him, “If you get desperate, come on by my chambers. You can mount up, see if you can stay on for eight seconds and make the whistle.”
Pepper had never seen a human being turn that shade of red before. The Chief Justice scuttled off like a frantic crab. She laughed, feeling light, almost flighty, for the first time in a long while. It was short-lived. There was a message waiting for her: “Buddy-please call ASAP.”
She waited until “ASAP” no longer applied before returning the call. Would she meet him for a drink? He didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. He sounded subdued, not at all his blustery, cigar-smoke-blowing self.
“All right,” she said. “There’s a place called the Pork Barrel.” She couldn’t resist adding, “You’ll feel right at home.”
He was waiting for her, in the same booth, oddly, where she had conversed with Agent Lodato. As she slid in opposite, a waiter came over and said merrily, “Justice Cartwright! Good to see you again.”
“I see you’re a regular,” Buddy said when the waiter had gone to get Buddy’s beer and Pepper’s coffee.
“Yes,” Pepper said. “I do all my drinking here. We’re all major boozers on the Court.”
“You look fantastic.”
“Buddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Cut the crap.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“What did you want to talk about? I’m a little busy these days.”
“Yeah. Boy,” he laughed nervously. “Must be some kind of pressure, huh?”
“It is, yes.”
“Good luck with it.”
“Thank you.” She waited for him to get to the point. He didn’t. She said, “Is this about our divorce or your breach of contract suit? Because if it is, I’m not going to discuss either. It’s been so much fun paying someone six-fifty an hour to discuss it with that I’ve gotten used to it.”
He said heavily, as if each word were a cinder block, “I wanted to apologize to you.”
Pepper stared.
“Well?” Buddy said.
“Don’t quite know what to say. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words all in one sentence.”
“I mean it,” he said gravely.
“You seem of late, but wherefore I know not, to have lost all your mirth.”
“No Shakespeare, Pepper, please, I’m not in the mood.”
“What’s going on?” She looked at him with sudden concern. “You’re not-did you just get a cancer diagnosis or something?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Did you just come here to apologize, or is there some hidden agenda here?”
“Why would there be?”
“Because I know you, Buddy.”
“I’m willing to drop the breach of contract suit.”
“I told you I’m not going to discuss it.”
“I’m also willing to drop the divorce suit.”
Pepper looked at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m prepared to forgive and forget.”
“I don’t even know how to begin to process that statement,” Pepper said after a pause so lengthy it was measurable in geologic time.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Buddy said. “Maybe you have, too.”
“Not really. I’ve been too busy to think.”
“That’s good. That would be a good line.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know, if we ever did another show, say.”
“Buddy,” Pepper laughed, “do you have any idea how transparent you are? A doctor wouldn’t even have to give you a CAT scan.”
“Okay, maybe I reacted perhaps not perfectly.”
“That’s a good line. ‘Maybe I reacted perhaps not perfectly.’ Are you sure you didn’t study law? Talk to me, Bud man. What are you trying to say to me?”
“I want you back, Pep.”
Pepper stared. “Why? It’s not a trick question. You never really wanted me in the first place. Marrying me was just a way of sealing the business deal.”
“No way.”
Pepper reached across the table and took his hands and held his wrists with her thumbs and forefingers. “Look into my eyes and tell me that you loved me. I mean, loved me.”
“Sure I did.”
Pepper released his wrists. She laughed. “That was a homemade lie detector test, darling, and boy did you flunk.”
“I’ll learn. Whatever. I want you back.”
“No, you don’t, baby. I think-and this isn’t a criticism, honest, we’re past that-but I think the only way you can be real is on TV. I don’t think reality measures up for you as well as whatever’s on a fifty-two-inch plasma-gel screen at eight o’clock on Monday nights. What’s the matter?”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
“Maybe. But I figured it out the night you locked me out of our apartment. Which, by the way, wasn’t very nice.”
“It wasn’t ‘very nice’ of you to sic the FBI on me.”
“We’ve been through that, Buddy.”
“Well, let’s go through it again.”
“What would that accomplish, other than mutual annoyance?”
“Objection. Evasion.”
“Honestly, I don’t care whether you believe me or not. But it remains a fact. I’ve got to go, baby. I’m in the middle of a constitutional crisis. This job,” she smiled. “Remind me-why did I take it?”
“Don’t look at me.”
Pepper stood. Buddy said, “I’m still dropping the breach of contract suit.”
“Your call.” Pepper shrugged. “But I think we might as well see the other one through.” She held out her hand. “Either way, I’d still like to go on calling you buddy.”
Buddy looked at her for a moment, smiled, said, “Motion granted,” and took her hand.
As she headed off, he said after her, “Hey, Pep?”
She turned. “Um?”
“Supreme Court. Make a hell of a show.”
“ ‘Nine old farts sending footnotes to each other’? I don’t know,” Pepper said. “Sounds kind of dull to me.”
CHAPTER 31
Are you sure you’re up to this?” President Vanderdamp said.
The thin, wintry morning light was slanting through the French windows into the Oval Office. Graydon was on his way to the Court for oral argument in Mitchell v. Vanderdamp. He looked to the President quite splendid in his London suit, but Vanderdamp saw traces of exhaustion in the old man’s face. The eyes, normally vivid blue, seemed pale and watery. He had a stoop and dabbed at his nose with a monogrammed handkerchief.
“No, I’m not,” Graydon said, “but it’s too late now. Alea jacta est.” [30]
The President smiled. “Save the Latin for them. You may need it.”
“I was trying to think when I last argued up there, and it took that story in the Post today to remind me. ‘Clenndennynn’s Last Stand.’ I’d have preferred ‘The Return of the King’ or something more Augustan. Less Custerish, at any rate. Well, I need to review my notes and put something in my stomach. Do you know-unpleasant but not unrelevant detail-the first time I argued, I threw up. Not during argument-thank God. Well, Donald, aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
“I’m not sure,” the President said. “Do we really want to win this one?”
“I feel your conundrum. But the prospect of the Republic falling into Dexter Mitchell’s hands?”
“Good luck.”
“Did you see in the paper,” Graydon said, “about that woman, Señorita Cha-Cha or whatever her name is? What could he have been thinking? Rather good timing from our perspective. But yes, I think we do want to win this one and keep Dexter Mitchell’s mitts off an actual nuclear button.”