THE PRESIDENT 2 (6 page)

“Oh, I see.
 
And how exactly was I supposed to do that? Drag her away from that reporter?
 
Put her on my back and run down the road with her?”

“You dropped the ball, La,” Dempsey made clear.
  
“Don’t try to act like you don’t realize that.”

“So it’s my fault now?
 
What that reporter did to G is on me?”

“That’s enough,” Gina said, too exhausted to even argue with them.
 
“It’s not on you or anybody else.
 
I should have seen it coming.
 
Now it’s big news when Dutch has so much to deal with already.
 
Now he has to deal with me and my blunders too.
 
Everything I do he has to answer for, and I hate that.”

The door to the sitting room opened and the topic of Gina’s conversation walked in.
 
Both LaLa and Dempsey stood to their feet as Dutch headed for the sofa.

“Good evening, Mr. President,” Dempsey said.

“Hey, Demps, how you doing?”

“Great, sir.”

“Mr. President,” LaLa said.

“Hello, Loretta.
 
You guys sit down, please.”

“Thank-you, sir,” Dempsey said just as LaLa was about to sit back down, “but we’d better run.”
 
Dempsey walked over to Gina, gave her a peck on the cheek.
 
“Get you some rest, G,” he urged.

“Thanks, Demps, you take care.”

“You too.”

Gina and LaLa hugged.
 
“I’ll call you later,” she said, and then she and Dempsey, reigniting their argument, to Gina’s dismay, were gone.

“Hey,” Dutch said, staring down at his wife.

“Hey,” Gina said, looking up at him.
 
“I guess you saw the sound bites.”

Dutch nodded.
 
“I saw them.”

“Max suggesting you divorce me?”

Dutch smiled weakly, unbuttoned his suit coat, and sat down beside her on the sofa.
 
She immediately laid her head on his shoulder.
 
He placed his arm around her waist.
 

“I felt so blindsided, Dutch.
 
I thought she wanted to know about the Center.
 
I mean, Nora Tatem doesn’t have a reputation as an ambush reporter.
 
But she sure ambushed me.”

“You did nothing wrong, Regina.”

Gina lifted her head and looked up at him.
 
“What are you talking about?
 
Every news outlet is criticizing me, saying I should have had more control of my emotions.
 
Even the black press is upset with me.
 
I just lived up to the angry black woman stereotype, they’re saying.
 
And you’re saying I did nothing wrong?
 
You don’t think I behaved in a manner that wasn’t befitting a First Lady, as CNN and FOX keep insisting?”

“I think you behaved fine under the circumstances.
 
She provoked that altercation with her ridiculous questions.
 
And the fact that you, as you put it, called her ass out, is what made it a story.”
 

Gina stared at him.
 
Could this man really be this good to her?
 
“You mean you aren’t upset?”

“With you?
 
No.
 
I’m glad you stood up for yourself, and I want you to continue to take a stand.
 
Don’t let this town ever take that away from you.”

This town
, Gina thought, and laid her head back on his shoulder.
 
“Dutch, I was thinking,” she started.

“Put it out of your mind, honey.”

“Not what happened with that reporter.
 
But about us.”

Dutch’s heart began to pound.
 
“What about us?”

Gina hesitated, and then plunged on in.
 
“I think it might be better if I was to leave Washington.”

Dutch hesitated, fear gripping him.
 
“Leave?” he said.
 

“Just until after your term in office is over.
 
I was thinking about getting LaLa and Dempsey and going back to Newark, with the three of us running Block by Block Raiders again.”

Dutch lifted her face up to his, his eyes staring into hers.
 
“You want to leave me, is that what you’re saying to me?”

“No, Dutch, not leave you.
 
Just leave the situation for now.
 
Just leave this town.
 
I don’t like it here.
 
It’s tearing my two best friends apart.
 
It makes everything I do some kind of indictment of you.
 
If I’m out of the fishbowl, at least the Washington version of it, maybe things will ease up for you.
 
And then when your term is over we can try and live a normal life.”

“But I just got sworn in for my second term a month ago, Gina.
 
That’s nearly four years you’re talking about being separated from me.”

“I can come and see you on the weekends, the way I used to do when we were dating.”

“Are you out of your mind?
 
I’m not seeing my wife only on the weekends!”
 
Then he exhaled, to regain control, to ease the fear that continued to grip him.
 
“It’ll get better.
 
I promise you it will.
 
They’ll move on to other things, they always do.
 
Bashing my wife is just the flavor of the month for them right now.
 
But please don’t talk about leaving me.”
 

There was such a plea in his voice that it startled Gina.
 
She stared into his eyes.
 
“Are you okay?”

Dutch tried to smile, but failed.
 
“I’m okay.
 
But please don’t leave me, Gina.”

Gina moved around and sat on his lap.
 
Then she placed his gorgeous face between her hands.
 
“I’ll never leave you, Dutch.
 
I promise you.
 
I was just trying to make it easier for you.”

Dutch pulled her into his arms, his eyes closing tightly.
 
“Your being here, with me, has made it easier.
 
You make it easier.
 
Don’t ever think that leaving me will make it easier for me, because it won’t.
 
Without you it would be unbearable, Gina.”

Gina closed her eyes too.
 
She hated politics, hated it with a passion, but would endure every political game they threw her way for Dutch’s sake.
 

Then he stopped embracing her and looked at her, as if suddenly realizing something he must address.
 
“I know they treat you horribly, honey,” he said.
 
“I read those press accounts.
 
The racism in their coverage is so obvious that it sickens me.
 
But if I didn’t think you could handle it, I would send you back to Newark myself.
 
But you’re strong, Gina.
 
You can handle this.
 
I know you can.”

Gina nodded.
 
Her handling it was never the issue for her.
 
“I know I can too,” she assured him.
 
“It’s you I’ve been worried about.”

“I’m okay,” he said with a smile, revealing lines of age on the sides of his eyes.
 
“There’s just a lot of crap going on, that’s all.”

“And here I come with my nonsense.”

“You didn’t come with anything.
 
That reporter took you there.
 
That’s why I ordered Max to have a conversation with her publisher.”

Gina frowned.
 
“But is that a good idea, Dutch?
 
That publisher could claim we’re trying to encroach on the freedom of the press or something.”

Dutch smiled this time.
 
“Don’t worry, sweetie,” he said, wrapping his arms around her again.
 
“That’s how the game is played around here.
 
We complain, the publisher feels as if he’s in the loop because he gets a phone call from the president’s chief of staff, and he mentions it, off the record, to the reporter.
 
Next time, the reporter, careful to keep her job, careful to please her publisher, is just a wee bit less aggressive.
 
That’s how it’s done around here.”

Gina shook her head.
 
“Everything’s a game.
  
It’s a wonder that anything gets done in this town.”

Dutch stared deep into her eyes.
 
“Promise me you’ll never leave me, Regina.”

Gina looked at him.
 
She thought they had already established that.
 
“I never said--”

“Promise me.”

His seriousness concerned her.
 
“I promise.”

Dutch leaned her against him, as if a load had just been lifted.
 
“Thank-you,” he said.

Gina was distressed by his need for her reassurance that she didn’t know what to say or what to do or how to make it clear to him that she was in this for the long haul.
 
She decided to move on, to lighter matters.
 
“Now that that’s settled,” she said, moving to rise from his lap, “I’d better get started.”

“Get started?” Dutch asked, holding her back.
 
“Get started doing what?”

“Cooking your dinner,” she said, as she got off of his lap and headed for the kitchen.

Dutch, knowing how awful a cook his wife really was, panicked.
 
“Gina, wait,” he said, rising too.
 
But Gina, knowing she wasn’t about to cook anything, took off running, laughing as she went.
 
Dutch, remembering the few meals she did try to cook for him and how dreadful each and every one of them were, took off running after her, terrified as he ran.

When he caught up to her, in the doorway of the kitchen, he grabbed her from behind.
 
When he realized she was laughing so hard she was bent over, he smiled too.
 
“You almost gave me a heart attack, child,” he said.
 

Gina laughed even harder and turned around to face him.
 
When she did, she could see that their nearness was beginning to affect his midsection.
 
“Is my cooking really that bad?” she asked him, already knowing the answer.

“You were a good attorney when you worked as an attorney.
 
You were an excellent businesswoman when you ran Block by Block Raiders.
 
And now you’re the perfect wife for me.
 
But a good cook, darling, you
ain’t
.”