Poor Little Dead Girls (25 page)

After the first half hour, the flasks were nearly empty and the liquor had the rest of the drive to work its way into their veins and settle in for the long night ahead. By the time they passed the first security checkpoint, Olivia had settled into a pattern of a few minutes of slumped silence, followed by a loud hiccup and then peals of hysterical laughter. She would exhaust herself, then slump back against the seat and start the process all over again.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the second security checkpoint, and they all piled out. Sadie looked around. It wasn’t the grand entrance she was expecting, but she could see one wing of the White House looming above them.

Ahead was a small booth staffed by a woman with a sleek black ponytail, the kind of person who looked like she had marched out of the womb with a clipboard and a tiny cell phone. Two guards stood on either side of her, their arms crossed and their chins thrust aggressively into the air. A blue carpet led past the booth and around the side of the building to the entrance.

At Thayer’s command, the members organized themselves into couples and lined up in front of the desk. Thayer and Finn gave their names first. The woman bared her teeth in what Sadie assumed was a smile, welcomed them, and immediately waved them through.

A few other couples sailed through next, but when Olivia and Brent stepped forward, Olivia hiccupped loudly, clapped her hand over her mouth, and sputtered with laughter. Brent put an arm around her waist to steady her, but the woman frowned. She scrolled through the list of names on the tablet and murmured a few quiet words into her mouthpiece, holding up one finger for them to wait.

Olivia fell silent and pouted. She looked over her shoulder at Sadie and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “So rude,” she slurred, just as one leg buckled and she collapsed against Brent’s side.

A moment later, the woman pursed her lips and looked up. “Against my better judgment, welcome to the White House, Ms. Spencer and Mr. Taylor.” She waved them through without smiling.

“Finally,” Olivia huffed loudly as she strolled past.

Sadie cringed and stepped forward.

“Are you also personal guests of the Cranston family?” The woman didn’t look up.

“Uh, yeah — I think so.”

Her eyes flicked toward Sadie. “You think?”

Jeremy cleared his throat and squeezed Sadie’s arm. “Yes, ma’am. I’m Jeremy Wood and this is Ms. Sadie Marlowe. I believe you’ll find us on that list without any problem at all.”

She spoke a few hushed words into her mouthpiece, then waved them through with a stiff nod. As they passed, she put a hand on Jeremy’s arm.

“Look, you kids clearly have friends in high places, but if your friend pukes on the president or any members of Congress, it’s going to be my ass on Monday. Keep an eye on her.”

Jeremy nodded solemnly, and she let him go. They walked quickly down the lit path and stifled their laughter until they rounded the corner of the building.

The first time she caught a glimpse of the President, Sadie gasped audibly. President Manning was taller than she had expected, but it was him — the President of the United States — sipping champagne out of a flute just like the one Jeremy had handed her seconds before. He was about fifteen yards away from her, his head bowed in discussion with two other men, and she was surprised to realize he looked so … normal. He was just one guy in a tux in a room full of them. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it was a shock.

Brett stood next to her, a full champagne glass in her hand. She was staring, glassy-eyed, in the President’s direction.

“Pretty crazy, right? We’re actually at a party with the President,” Sadie said. “My dad’s going to be so jealous.”

Brett just stared and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

Sadie blushed. “You’ve probably seen him tons of times. I bet I’m the only one in here who doesn’t consider this, like, an average, run-of-the-mill Saturday night.”

Brett turned to her and raised her eyebrows. “I doubt it.” She waved her flute in a slow arc, motioning toward the crowd mingling in the elegant ballroom. “All these people just live for this shit.” Her voice was hard. “Being here means something to them, all right. It means they matter.”

Sadie looked at Brett, and as she watched, her face suddenly changed. Seconds earlier her cheeks had been flushed, and the fire in her voice had shown clearly on her face. Now the color was gone, siphoned by some force Sadie couldn’t see. She looked flat and lifeless.

“Brett — what’s wrong?” She followed Brett’s unblinking line of sight back toward the President. She frowned. Nothing had changed.

At that moment, one of the men he was speaking to turned toward them and for the first time she saw his face. She recognized the strong jawline and sandy hair immediately. It was Teddy Cranston, and the gray-haired man next to him was his father.

Her face registered surprise, and she turned back to Brett. “Hey, that’s — ” She trailed off. Brett was already gone.

Sadie circled the ballroom three times looking for her, and by the time she gave up she had downed her second glass of champagne. She glanced around for a sign for the bathrooms, then tapped the shoulder of a woman standing nearby in a long silver gown. The woman turned and looked her in the eye — she had shiny brown hair and perfectly rouged cheeks, and something in Sadie’s mind tried to push its way through the champagne fog. Sadie was sure she had seen her before, but she wasn’t sure where. Recognition flashed across the woman’s face, and she turned away without saying a word.

“What, rich people never have to pee?” Sadie muttered to herself as she made her way through the crowd. Eventually a waiter pointed her toward a small alcove, and inside she found two large white doors primly labeled with brass plaques.

Once inside the stall, she sank gratefully onto the seat. Then she looked down.

“Oh, come on!” she said, unable to help herself. “At the White House — real freaking poetic,” she muttered. She looked around the stall. The tiny satin clutch Olivia had lent her was useless; she could barely have fit a tampon in there even if she wanted to. She needed to find something — right away. She was not going to be the girl who got her period on Chanel.

She exited the stall and scanned the bathroom for the ubiquitous metal box. She found nothing on her initial sweep, and began a more thorough search, checking under the sinks and in each corner of the room. Finally, she gave up and threw her hands in the air. “If we had a female president, there would be some freaking tampons in this bathroom,” she said aloud.

“Amen to that,” said a voice behind her, followed by a loud chuckle.

Sadie’s cheeks instantly started to burn. “Oh, um, sorry,” she called. “I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”

She heard a flush, and a woman emerged from the last stall. She was wearing a simple black dress, and a small diamond stud in each ear sparkled in contrast with her dark skin. “Don’t apologize — that’s the best laugh I’ve had all night.” She approached the sink and flipped on the tap. “Plus, you’re probably right. I bet they have cold beers and ESPN in the men’s room.” She grinned, then opened her clutch and pulled out a tampon. “Don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”

Sadie exhaled. “Oh god, thank you.”

When she was finished, the woman was leaning toward the mirror, tracing her lips in deep red. Sadie glanced at her reflection as she washed her hands, and the woman smiled.

“That’s a really beautiful dress,” she said. She pressed her lips together. “How did someone as young as you manage to get ahold of Chanel’s spring collection before some Hollywood starlet snatched it up?”

Sadie blushed and looked at the floor. “A friend lent it to me.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, and Sadie felt embarrassment washing over her.

“I’m really not that into fashion. Wearing this kinda makes me feel like I’m in a costume or something.”

A corner of the woman’s mouth turned up in a half smile. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but this is the eleventh White House function I’ve worn this dress to.” She hooted with laughter. “A plain black dress no one remembers is a poor White House reporter’s best friend.” She stuck out a hand. “Charlie Ronson. I cover the Hill for the
National
.”

Sadie shook her hand. “Oh, wow. I know who you are. My dad quotes from your columns all the time.” She adjusted the bodice of her dress nervously. “Sadie Marlowe. I, uh, crash White House parties in borrowed clothes because I happen to know someone with connections.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows. “Must be some connections. Let me guess, Keating Hall?”

“How’d you know?”

The woman laughed. “Wild guess. So how’d you end up there? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been covering D.C. royalty for a long time, and something about you just doesn’t seem like the type.”

Sadie smiled. “Lacrosse scholarship. I just transferred this fall. Are you an alum?”

The woman threw her head back and laughed. “Please. I went to public school in Chicago. I may report on the upper crust, but I’ve always been an outsider looking in. I’m an explorer — navigating unfamiliar territory and always taking copious notes.”

Sadie snorted. “Sometimes I feel like I’m part of some weird experiment, like Jane whatshername and the chimps. I like to think I’m the scientist and they’re the monkeys, but honestly, I’m not even sure anymore.”

Charlie eyed her curiously. “You know, I know exactly what you mean.”

“Is it fun, though? Your job? I’ve always thought it would be pretty cool to be a reporter.”

Charlie looked thoughtful. “I don’t know if I’d describe it as fun, but it’s rewarding.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper. “Here. Take my card. If you ever want to check out the newspaper industry for yourself, give me a call. I can take you around the office, show you how we get things done.”

Sadie took the card. “Wow, thanks. My dad’s going to die when I tell him.”

“It was nice to meet you, Sadie Marlowe.” She waved a hand and started for the door.

“Hey, Charlie?” Sadie called. “This is kind of embarrassing to admit, but I always thought you were a guy, you know? I mean … a man.”

Charlie’s eyes sparkled. “Can’t say that’s an accident. One thing I wish someone would have told me when I was your age is a male name on a resume will get you far, especially in this town. They can’t keep you out of the boys’ club if they don’t know you’re not a card-carrying member.” She grinned. “Now go have fun. I may be on the clock, but you and that dress should be on the dance floor.”

She swept away toward the door, leaving Sadie slightly stunned and still holding her card.

On the way back she stopped at the bar and ordered a Coke. Champagne was so deceptive — it went down like Sprite, and then ten minutes later everything around her would be spinning and her hands would look weird. She wasn’t sure she liked the feeling.

“Aren’t you a little young to be at the bar?” The voice was smooth and rich. She forced a smile.

“Hi, Mr. Cranston,” she mumbled. “It’s just a Coke, I would never — ”

He laughed. “Relax. I’m not here as a chaperone. And you should call me Teddy.” He took another step toward her and leaned an elbow on the bar. A wave of his cologne surrounded her, making her feel a little dizzy.

She exhaled and forced her shoulders to un-hunch.

“So, are you having fun? I trust my son is behaving himself?”

“I am, thank you. And yeah, Finn’s great,” she lied. So far he had spent most of the night trying to grope one of the first daughters on the dance floor while Thayer glared at him from across the room. “I heard you got us our tickets tonight. That was really generous of you.”

He waved a hand. “You deserve it, and it’s never too early to start meeting the right people. Have you been mingling?”

“A little,” she lied again. “I just met Charlie Ronson, she’s really cool.”

He nodded politely. “If there’s anyone in particular you would like to shake hands with, just give the word and I’d be happy to make the introduction. If you’re looking for a summer internship or the chance to be a congressional page, we can definitely make that happen.”

“Thank you, I’m sure I’ll take you up on that.”

He held her gaze. “And of course, if there’s ever anything else I can do for you, feel free to ask.”

Before she could respond, the bartender returned and looked questioningly at Teddy.

“Bourbon, splash of water, two cubes.” The words rolled off Teddy’s tongue like warm milk.

Sadie picked up her drink and turned to leave. “Have a good night, Mr. Cranston. Thanks again for inviting us.”

“You know, Sadie, I didn’t see it before, but you really remind me of your mother tonight. Especially in that dress — she always liked wearing blue.”

The words fell like bricks on her chest. She set her glass back down on the bar with a loud thump. “You knew my mom?”

He looked surprised. “Of course. I assumed you knew that.”

She shook her head.

“We were in school together. Well, she was at Keating while I was at Graff. Class of ’89.”