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"Sure."
Kennedy dialed the next number from memory and looked at her watch. It was almost 7:30. Special Agent Warch answered after the first ring. "Jack, it's Irene. Are you back at the White House yet?"
"Almost. I know it's a real shock, but we're running late."
"So you're on Marine One right now?"
"Yep."
Kennedy thought about it for a second and said, "Jack, I need you to do me a favor. It's more of a precaution really." Kennedy went on to explain what she wanted, and with a little bit of cajoling, the agent in charge of the presidential detail agreed.
* * *
Seventy-Two
Peggy Stealey arrived at the dinner in a black stretch limousine with DNC Chairman Holmes. As she was helped from the backseat, the long slit of her evening gown parted to reveal a naked, toned leg that caught the attention of even the military Honor Guard arrayed on each side of the door. She took Holmes's arm and elegantly strode up the steps under the North Portico of the White House. Flash bulbs erupted to catch the stunning blonde who looked like she would be more at home on the red carpet at an awards ceremony than a state dinner at the White House.
The two entered the White House and were immediately offered a glass of champagne. Stealey took one, but Holmes declined. He'd already declared his intention to avoid the pond scum that they served at these types of things and stick to Belvedere vodka, which of course meant that he'd be tanked by ten. To Holmes any bottle of wine, sparkling or otherwise, was to be avoided unless its price tag had at least three digits prior to the decimal. For an evening like this, four would have been preferred, but Holmes hadn't been consulted. If he had been, it probably would have meant he was expected to pay for it, or worse, provide a dozen cases from his private collection. That would never happen. The only sin worse than drinking a cheap bottle of wine was wasting a good one on people who couldn't appreciate it.
Holmes looked like a fullback blocking for a halfback as he pushed his way through the Cross Hall toward the East Room and the bar. Between them he and Peggy created quite the stir, half the men beseeching Holmes for a favor and the other half gawking at his date. Holmes refused every attempt to engage him in conversation.
"You know the rule," he said at least three times. "Not until I have a drink in my hand." As chairman of the DNC he was in control of the party's purse strings, and there was never enough money to go around.
When they finally reached the bar Holmes went around the sid
e and waved the bartender over. Two rows of people were neatly cued up and patiently waiting their turn. Holmes didn't wait in lines, especially when he was thirsty. Several of the people muttered to each other over the break in decorum.
The bartender came over and Holmes slapped a folded hundred-dollar bill in the man's hand and whispered in his ear, "Belvedere on the rocks, double, and a tall Vodka tonic, double."
The man glanced down at the crisp bill and said, "Sir, it's an open bar."
"I know it is. That's your tip."
"But I can't "
"Yes, you can," Holmes said impatiently. "Now hurry up. I'm thirsty."
The bartender left to make the drinks.
Stealey turned her bare back to the people in line. "You're getting some awfully dirty looks, Mr. Chairman."
Holmes glanced over her shoulder and plastered an ugly smile across his face. "They're not looking at me. They're all looking at you. They're thinking you're a movie star."
Stealey smiled warmly. "What a nice compliment, Pat."
"Yeah, either that or they think you're a high-priced call girl."
The smile vanished and was replaced with a scowl.
"You should be flattered. Have you ever seen how hot some of the call girls are in this town?" The scowl remained, so Holmes kept digging. "All I'm trying to say is that you are an extremely beautiful woman. You look fantastic tonight."
Stealey sighed and shook her head. "Patrick, there are nicer ways to say that than comparing me to a prostitute."
Thankfully the drinks arrived, because Holmes couldn't see her point. He didn't sayprostitute, he saidcall girl, and in his mind, and in this town, there was a big difference.
He took the drinks from the bartender and told him he'd be back in about ten minutes to reload. He handed Stealey her drink and with a British accent, said, "As I mentioned, you lookraaavishing this evening." He raised his glass in a toast. He looked handsome in his tux, and she looked stunning in her shimmering robin's-egg blue evening gown. If all went well he'd finally get her into bed tonight. They both took a drink and smiled at each other. He knew she knew, and she knew he knew and round and round they went.
Stealey set her champagne glass on the tray of a passing server and turned to take in the magnificence of the East Room. Weddings, wakes, and countless functions, some historical and some meaningless, had all been held in this, the grandest room of the People's House. The ambiance was intoxicating. This was power. This was the closest thing modern-day America had to a King's Court.
