AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t trouble yourself.”
“It’s no trouble, I assure you. How are you feeling?”
“Fucking great. How are you feeling?”
“You’re upset. Let me call Dr. Allan to come over.”
“I don’t need him,” she shouted. “What I need…” She paused to gather stamina. “What I need is for somebody around here to acknowledge that I had a son, and that he’s dead.”
“It’s been acknowledged, Vanessa. Why dwell on it? What’s the point in belaboring the fact that your son—”
“Say his name, you bastard.” She lunged forward and grabbed the lapels of his perfectly tailored jacket. “It’s hard for you and David to call him by name, isn’t it? Your consciences won’t let you. Say it!” she shou
ted. “Say it right now!”
A Secret Service agent rushed into the room. “Mr. Martin, is something wrong?”
“The First Lady isn’t well,” he said. “Call Dr. Allan to come immediately.”
Spence backed her into her room and closed the door. “Going to lock me in my room, Spence?”
“Not at all. If you want to make a spectacle of yourself in front of the staff, be my guest,” he said smoothly, gesturing toward the door.
Vanessa lapsed into sullen silence, but defiantly poured herself another glass of wine. By the time the doctor arrived, she had finished that one and was having another.
“She’s drunk, George,” Spence announced.
She fought off Dr. Allan when he tried to examine her. “Vanessa, your medication doesn’t allow you to drink this much.”
Spence then ordered him to give her something to shut her up. “I really shouldn’t. I have to increase the dosage to make it effective.”
“I don’t care what you have to do,” said the man of steel.
Vanessa bared her arm. “Give me the goddamn drug! The only time I know any peace is when I’m asleep. And, as Spence pointed out, I’m not sleepy, I’m drunk.”
As the drug cruised through her system, David came striding into the room. He was obviously furious over the scene she’d created while he was away.
Too damn bad, Mr. President, she thought, although she was too relaxed now to articulate the words.
He and Spence and Dr. Allan conducted a tense, hushed conversation at the foot of her bed. At the conclusion of it, she heard Spence say, “We can’t let this go on any longer.”
What, precisely, did that mean? She had wished for sweet oblivion, but now she struggled to fight it off.
She was in a deep sleep when they came for her just before dawn.
Chapter Seven
President Merritt concluded his telephone conversation with Barrie Travis and turned to his adviser. “What do you think?”
Spencer Martin had heard every word over the speakerphone. “She was fishing, but you handled it well,” he replied. “You declined her request, but you did it graciously. Did her call go through Dalton?”
“Yes. She played it by the book.”
“Then it was even more gracious of you to turn her down personally. I guess she thought there was no harm in asking for an exclusive with you to discuss your campaign strategy. Apparently she’s now on a first-name basis with Vanessa, and you sent her those flowers. It’s natural for her to think she has an inside track to the Oval Office.”
David Merritt stared through the windows overlooking the carefully tended grounds of the White House. Visitors were queued up along the iron picket fence, waiting to take the standard tour, during which they’d gawk at the dinnerware of former presidents.
Privately, he scorned the American public, but he loved being their president, and he was going to hate relinquishing this address, even after his second term. He never considered that there wouldn’t be a second. Being reelected was a foregone conclusion. It was in the program he’d set for himself back in that trailer park in Biloxi. With very few deviations, everything had gone according to his master plan. Nothing would be allowed to interfere with the future that David Malcomb Merritt had outlined for himself. Nothing.
