“He’s gorgeous!” she gushed. “If he wasn’t already married, I wouldn’t have come back!”
“That would really blow the family values vote, wouldn’t it?” I remarked.
“He’s got money, too,” she teased.
I just threw my hands up in despair at that point.
While Selleck was doing the narration, and various home photos were being run across the screen, Marilyn began talking about midway through the bio. They had her sitting in an armchair, partially in shadow, with shots of her from slightly off to the side. The format was one where she was getting asked questions from off camera, and they were taping and splicing in her replies. She started talking about from when we met in college, through my Army and Buckman Group years, and then about what I was doing as a Congressman. Eventually it came to an end. When this really played at the convention, the screen would go black, and then John Boehner would speak from offstage and announce my entry, and I would come out from behind the curtains.
It was very professional and slick. I told Marilyn, “Hell, this guy is great! Let me know when he starts walking on water, because I want to watch!”
“You’re no help! I think I’m going back to Hollywood and look for Tom Selleck again!”
“I can always grow a new mustache.”
“Yeah, but he still has hair!” she replied.
I made a menacing move towards her and she skedaddled out of my office. “It’s a good thing for you I’m still an invalid!” I yelled after her.
Sunday afternoon we all flew up to Philly in the LongRanger. We even took Stormy with us. If they were going to play me up as the hero, I might as well do it big time. Even Democrats like puppy dogs! We flew into New Castle. Frank was waiting for us there with a limo and the security staff I was traveling with these days. Presidential nominees, like Bush and Gore, get Secret Service protection while they are campaigning. Vice Presidential nominees don’t. If we won the election, that would all change, but right now I was providing my own protection detail.
The convention was being held at the First Union Center, and we had a large suite at the Ritz-Carlton a few miles away. We traveled with Stormy in her cage, since the last thing we needed was for her to find some damn place under a seat to take a leak, take a dump, or take a nap and get forgotten. She was taking well to the housebreaking training, but she was still a little, er… big puppy.
My big appearance was on Wednesday, but Sunday through Tuesday I was to meet major donors and supporters, and otherwise ingratiate myself with the group surrounding George Bush. Neither Rove nor Cheney were any more friendly towards me, but as long as I didn’t get into a flaming argument with them, I would be okay. Cheney in particular was plotting out his position in the Bush White House, and was planning on taking State. On my first go that had been held by Colin Powell, and I hoped he wasn’t out in the cold. I just would listen to the plots and nod and mumble something neutral.
As far as the press was concerned, I was unavailable, resting prior to my speech. I wasn’t on lockdown, but it came close. We ate in a private dining room, and didn’t do any sightseeing. The girls did manage to take Stormy out several times for some fresh air and to let her pee and poop. In the suite, we kept some newspapers on the floor of the bathroom in Marilyn’s and my room.
We had flown in Sunday afternoon. That night we planned to let Stormy sleep in the bathroom. Marilyn and I got into bed, and she was beginning to examine my new scars and compare them to my old ones, in a most intriguing manner, when the mutt began whining from the bathroom. “Go to sleep, Stormy!” I called out.
Stormy quieted down for a couple of minutes, and then started up again. I repeated the order, and after just a couple of minutes, she was whining. Marilyn looked at me and asked, “Maybe if we turn the lights off?” We had been getting frisky with the lights lit.
“Worth a try.” I rolled over and turned off the light on the nightstand and yelled, “Go to sleep!” Then I rolled back towards my wife. Stormy began whining and barking, and there was a scratching on the door. I rolled over and turned the light on again. “This is nuts!”
I got out of bed and opened the bathroom door, wondering if she needed to pee or something, but she immediately tried to jump up and play with me. Marilyn looked over at me and tried to stifle some laughter. I tossed the dog on the bed with her and said, “I know how to handle this!” I pulled my pants back on and then grabbed the dog. “Your daughters are getting a present!”
I picked Stormy up and carried her out of our bedroom and across the lounge to the large bedroom they were sharing. I knocked and barged in. They were both up, but in bed and watching television, wearing t-shirts. They started scrambling for cover. “Daddy!” they both protested.
“Forget it. I’ve seen it before. Here, have a dog. Your mother and I are trying to get some sleep!” I dropped her on Molly’s bed and left.
I heard them squawking through the door but didn’t care. When I got back to my bedroom, I dropped my trousers and crawled back into bed. Marilyn wasn’t interested in checking out my scars anymore, so we simply made love and fell asleep.
Around one in the morning or so, I heard the bedroom door open, and one of the twins came in. “Here, take her, she’s yours! She can’t figure out which of us she wants to sleep with!”
Marilyn woke up with a muffled, “Huh?” just as the bedroom door closed.
In the dim light of the room, I looked down and saw a very happy puppy crawling towards me on the covers. She licked my face, and then Marilyn’s, and then turned around in between us about a dozen times before laying down and going to sleep.
Marilyn looked at me and said, “You’re kidding me, right?”
“This will only be until we get her home, and then it’s back into the utility room at night,” I assured her. “This is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted a threesome!”
“Yuck!”
Chapter 130: Conventional Wisdom
August 2, 2000
We were sitting in the green room behind the stage at the Union Center. It was the four of us, five if you included Stormy, and she seemed to be getting a kick out of jumping from lap to lap. I was looking forward to spending a night at home with her locked in the laundry room. It wasn’t like I had never had a dog sleep in bed with me, but this idiot critter seemed to prefer sleeping in between Marilyn and me, and under the covers no less! It wasn’t exactly the crazy nights away in a strange hotel I had been looking forward to.
John Boehner had been with us until a few minutes ago, when he had been summoned forth. He was about to do his introduction of the bio. We had ABC on the television and were watching as he appeared on the screen, smiling and tan. How the hell any human could be that shade always amazed me, and gave me endless opportunity to tease him. Marilyn was seated next to me and holding my hand. I wasn’t sure who was more nervous, me about the speech or her about the bio movie.
“I first met Carl Buckman in December of 1990 during Freshman Orientation Week. We had both just been elected to Congress, and we happened to be seated at the same table. Everyone at that table knew about the cocky young billionaire who had just bought himself a Congressional district, and there he was at the table with us. Guess what? He wasn’t all that cocky, or at least no more than the rest of us at the table were. In fact he was a pretty nice guy.”
John had started to speak, and I looked over at Marilyn and said, “You wouldn’t believe how much he charged me to say this stuff. His original speech started out, ‘Carl Buckman is a real asshole!’”