“That’s not good,” Lauren mumbled, cursing her indiscretion for the thousandth time and knowing she’d get down on her knees and beg if she could only turn back the hands of time.
Beth couldn’t help but agree. Dev usually needed some time to process bad news before being at her most effective. At first, the President was likely to be quiet and broody, followed quickly by anger.
Everyone jumped at the sound of a loud crash and the raised but indistinguishable voices coming from inside the Oval Office. But no one made a move towards the door.
*
*
*
“Son of a bitch!” In disgust, Dev turned away from her coffee-stained wall and the now decapitated bust of George W. Bush.
“Dev—”
“I can’t believe she did that, David,” she seethed.
“You know how much time, planning, and money has gone into the DNA Registration campaign so that people will feel comfortable volunteering a sample. In one single sentence she’s set us back months!”
David ran a hand through his hair. "It's not that bad."
"The hell it's not!” Dev stalked over to her seat and sat down, eyeing her pencil holder with evil intent.
David’s eyes widened and he debated whether it was safe to sit this close to his friend.
Dev caught the look and despite the throbbing vein that was very visible in the center of her forehead quirked a weak grin at her friend. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. This is just me trying not to repress my feelings by expressing them freely.”
David recognized therapist-speak when he heard it, and his eyes widened further. “My God. Were you ever repressed when it came to expressing your anger?”
Dev glared at him. “Not as far as I’m concerned. Either way, it doesn’t appear that I’m repressed anymore, does it!”
“Does breaking things help?” David asked carefully, willing to see that Devlyn had plenty of mugs at her disposal if smashing really helped her deal with stress.
A scowl firmly planted itself on Dev’s face. “I don’t think so.” To test her theory she snatched a pencil from the holder and viciously snapped it in half. She sighed. “Nope, not helping.”
David got up and circled the desk.
Dev stood up and gratefully allowed her dear friend to pull her into a heartfelt hug. It was a rare moment of tactile comfort between them, despite the close-knit nature of their friendship. The dark-haired woman pulled away just enough to rest her forehead on David’s broad shoulder. She soaked in the understanding that was so freely given that it oftentimes was under-appreciated.
"Lauren was really upset when she called,” David said. “She apologized over and over again and she swore she’d explain.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, David. But, Christ, how could she be so careless?”
Dev was calming down quickly, and David let out a relieved breath, well aware that that throbbing vein in her forehead could not bode well for her high blood pressure.
Soothingly, he rubbed his hand in small circles on Devlyn’s back, feeling the cool silk of her blouse. "Let me tell you, pal, if this is the worst thing she says in public while you’re in office, you can consider yourself lucky."
Dev snorted. This, she was forced to acknowledge, was very true.
David smiled. “Besides, don’t you remember when—?”
Dev’s head jerked up. “Don’t you dare say it,” she threatened. But there was little heat behind the words. “I was a 23-year-old Ohio State representative who didn’t know my head from my arse! Lauren is a mature woman who has been living in the White House for the past two years. I hold her to a higher standard.”
“Okay, okay,” David conceded, lifting his hands in supplication. “Be that as it may, we still have to deal with things.”
Dev nodded and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "You're right. But I need to talk to my wife before we decide what to do." Dev surprised David by dropping a quick kiss on his cheek before pressing the intercom button and waiting for Jane to answer. “Who’s out there waiting for David to finish breaking the news, Jane?”
Jane rattled off a list of people, and Dev’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. She turned to David. “The gang’s all here.”
David straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket as Dev grabbed her jacket off the rack near her desk and shrugged into it with her friend’s help. Then she eased back into her leather chair.
“Jane, could you please send the First Lady in alone? And have someone bring Michael Oaks over to join the party. I’ll be speaking to the group shortly.”
“Yes, Madam President.”
The Oval Office door opened, and a shamefaced Lauren padded into the room.
She moved with all the enthusiasm and speed of a participant in the Battaan Death March.
David slipped out of the room behind her, whispering a wan “Good luck” as he went.
After he closed the heavy wooden door, Lauren took her place in the hot-seat in front of Dev’s desk. With an audible gulp, she folded her hands in her lap and waited.
They stared at each other in silence for a solid minute before Devlyn arched an eyebrow and asked, “Aren’t you going to say hello to Big Brother?"
Lauren cringed, and her apology exploded from within her. “Oh, God, I am so, so sorry!"
The smaller woman was nearly in tears, and Dev felt a good part of her anger deflate in the face of her partner’s obvious, heartfelt regret.
Lauren lay her head on Devlyn’s desk and turned it sideways, exposing her neck.
Half joking she said, “Here, cut if off. Just make it quick.”
“Sit up, you nut.” Dev crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m not going to chop off your head… though it was touch and go about 10 minutes ago.”
Lauren’s gaze strayed to George W. sans his head.
“Thank goodness I was hiding in the outer office 10 minutes ago.”
Dev followed Lauren’s eyes and shrugged dismissively. “I actually think it’s much improved now,” she said seriously, drawing a hesitant smile from Lauren.
The President uncrossed her arms and leaned forward, pinning Lauren with an intense but not unkind stare. “What the hell happened?
I thought you were in Baltimore to attend a writers’ conference, not toss a grenade into my campaign to encourage voluntary registration.” She leaned forward a little further, reaching out and caressing Lauren’s cheek to take the sting from her words. “Hmm?”
Lauren’s eyes closed at the gentle touch. "I can’t think of anything to say but how sorry I am. The microphones were off and Wayne and I were alone on stage. We were just talking. DNA registration came up in our conversation, and without my knowing it, someone switched on my microphone just in time to blast my poorly articulated opinion to the entire room.” She sighed, her hands shaping fists. "I- I felt comfortable with Wayne. The room was filled with other writers and people I know. I didn’t feel like I had to be on guard every single damn second!” Lauren’s expression hardened. “I was wrong.”
“I don’t want you to be paranoid, honey. But some bastard is always going to be lurking, waiting for you to slip up so they can crush you like a roach in their next article or newscast. “
Lauren blinked. “No paranoia there.”
“Tell me it’s not true,” Dev challenged.
Lauren opened her mouth, then closed it quickly, gracefully accepting defeat.
“You’ve got to make it harder for them to do that to you than you did today, Lauren!"
Her cheeks colored. “I know.”
The older woman reached out for Lauren’s hand and her eyebrows furrowed at the unpleasant sensation of cool clammy skin. Despite her own anger, Dev found it virtually impossible to let her beloved friend continue to twist in the wind.
Her gaze softened. “I’m angry, yes. But I accept your apology, sweetheart. I know you wouldn’t have done something like that on purpose.”
Lauren looked as though she might pass out from relief. “Thank God you know that. I would never intentionally torpedo something you’re involved in just because we disagree.”
“I know you wouldn’t, and you haven’t torpedoed anything.” Dev relaxed back in her chair. “But you’ve got to be more careful than you were today, Lauren. What you said made me look bad in a lot of peoples’ eyes. If I can’t convince you of something I feel so strongly about, then you must know some big bad government secret that they don’t, right?”
“Damn.” Lauren let out a breath that ended in a moan. “I’ve made a royal mess of things.” She rubbed her temple with irritated fingers. “This has been the worst afternoon in forever.”
Dev nodded. “I’ve had better.”
“Have we made up yet?” Lauren asked hopefully, willing to apologize for as long as it took, but desperately in need of something else in the meantime.
Dev smiled a little. “I’d say so.”
“Then can I have a hug? I could really use it.”
“Me, too. C’mere.”
It took Lauren only a few heartbeats to get around the long desk and find safe haven in strong arms. She’d been sick to her stomach the entire way back from Baltimore and that sinking sensation was only now beginning to ease. “I love you,” she whispered.
Dev tightened her hold on the younger woman. “I love you, too.” She kissed the top of Lauren’s head. “It’s time to call in the troops.”
“Should I prepare to grovel? Press Secretary Allen looked as though she wanted to strangle me, and David barely looked at me at all as he flew out of here.”
“They’ll live,” Dev said flatly. “Part of their job is dealing with things like this. I take it everyone is up to speed on exactly what happened in Baltimore?” Upon Lauren’s nod, Dev pushed the intercom button on her desk. “Send everyone in, Jane. And you come too, please.”
“Yes, Madam President,” Jane answered dutifully, her voice still hanging in the air when the office door opened.
Wordlessly, the staffers trooped in and circled Dev and Lauren.
“Okay,” Dev began. “The First Lady has explained what happened to my satisfaction.” Her voice dropped an octave. “It’s over now, people. She knows she made a mistake and I don’t want to hear anything more about how she could have done it or why she was careless.”
Unseen by Devlyn, Michael Oaks rolled his dark eyes.
“Dev—” Lauren began to protest, willing to take her medicine, even if it meant eating a serious portion of crow. After all, Dev was right about her lack of care. And now it would cost everyone.
“Assigning blame when you’ve already taken responsibility for your error only wastes time,” Dev said for everyone else’s benefit as much as Lauren’s. “And that’s the last thing we need. Besides,” she paused, then met David’s gaze with her own, blue eyes not revealing a hidden twinkle, “as my good friend David reminded me, I’ve, well… there’s been a time or two where I said something I wished I hadn’t.”
David and Beth looked at each other, both recalling what was easily Devlyn’s most embarrassing political moment. As a freshman Ohio State representative, she had angrily shot off her mouth within range of a taping film crew, and the results remained in the papers for weeks, giving Devlyn her very first national exposure. The McMillians drew in a deep breath and chorused Dev’s near historic quote about a rival politician, “I'm not going to be bullied by an illiterate hilljack with the morals of a pimp!”
Dev narrowed her eyes. “You just had to say it, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Madam President,” they both answered soberly, having done exactly what Devlyn had wanted. And they knew it. Dev mentioning the much-hated “hilljack incident,” as the press had dubbed it, was tacit permission for David and Beth to use the tale for good purpose. Lauren had made great strides in the past year, but she would misstep many times on her journey as First Lady. The support that she received now would go a long in making her more confident but more savvy in public in future.
Lauren, however, wasn’t the least bit shocked at the story. Sometimes, she mused, everyone seemed to forget that she was trailing around after Devlyn and conducting endless research and interviews for a reason. Other than enjoying the company. Lauren probably knew more about the President than all but a handful of people on the planet. And she loved that quote.
“I hate to tell you, Devlyn, but your biography wouldn’t be complete without a mention of the infamous ‘hilljack incident.’" She chanced a tenuous grin at her partner. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right,” Dev replied calmly. “Your quote from today will surely be in the biography that someone is undoubtedly writing about you.”
Lauren’s face shifted into a scowl.
Dev chuckled evilly. “Welcome to my world.” Then she slapped her hands on her thighs and focused on her press secretary. It was time to get back to business. She grabbed David’s wrist and lifted it so she could look at his watch, nodding a little to herself. “We need a press conference before our lovely friends in the press put their nightly news stories to bed. You’ve got 30 minutes. Here’s my statement, and Sharon, quote me on this—”
Sharon’s eyes widened and she fumbled with the pad of paper in her hands until Liza magically produced a micro-recorder and handed it to the woman. A beaming smile was Dev’s ever-ready assistant’s reward.