“Okay, I’ll think about it.”
As he stood looking down at her, he began negotiations. “You haven’t asked me how much we pay.”
“You haven’t asked me how much I want.”
Wally used his poker face and smiled, then turned away, thinking She is some piece of work. She’ll probably be great on camera.
Carly tried not to watch him leave. She sat still for a minute or two reviewing the conversation. Hundredths, hundreds. Girl. Print. Ask me what I want. Credibility. Then it hit her, this wasn’t a chance meeting. He must have had her followed. He didn’t even order a coffee to go. Besides, he wouldn’t be in this neighborhood at night. So he came after me… That was a good point from which to start her negotiation for salary and benefits. As she sat there the echoes of another nocturnal fantasy started resounding within her. She always thought about being on TV. Reaching millions. Gaining the trust of millions. Making millions. She plopped down a ten, more than enough to cover the tab for tea and dry toast plus tip. She walked out of the diner and headed for the hotel. As she walked her head slowly rose from looking down at the cherry blossoms, which were falling like a gentle spring snow onto the sidewalks of Washington, D.C. Their unmistakable scent that filled the soft warm breeze, and the realization that what just happened was a good thing, lifted her head and spirit. The Washington Monument, brilliantly lit against the inky black sky, became an exclamation point to the evening that had started out with a period.
She was a block from the hotel when she stopped to retrace her steps, realizing she left her panties in the laundromat.
“Bill, are you sure you want to keep this small?” Reynolds said.
“Ray, if it gets too big, I’ll wind up filling out forms and running a bureaucracy instead of trying to figure out what the hell’s going on. Thank you, but no thank you. I don’t want to move into the Department of the Interior. I’ll work out of my office. I don’t want a staff of 300. I don’t want to do anything but get started.”
“It’s your show, Bill. Do you at least want a car and driver?”
“I’ll manage on my own, thanks.”
“Hey, that makes my job easier. Anything else?”
“No, I just need the one gov-ops person to handle the forms. Which reminds me, what’s the story with Cheryl?”
“She’s bright and she’s a self-starter, why?”
“How about her?”
“You want one of my assistants to be your gov-ops?”
“Especially one of your assistants, one who knows how things work around here. Besides, she can spy on you for me.”
Spying being a two-way street, Reynolds shook his head. “Okay, Cheryl will be assigned to your group.”
The intercom beeped and Reynolds picked up the receiver. “Ah, yes. Send him right in.” He hung up the phone. “When I called Tate to do the vetting on Janice, he hit the ceiling and said he’d be right over.”
On cue, FBI Director Tate entered. “This is preposterous.”
Hiccock concealed his slight delight at Tate’s rage and remained focused on the chief of staff.
“Just run the usual background check on her, please,” Reynolds said calmly.
“Sure, why not? I am sure the president wholeheartedly supports Hiccock’s efforts to rekindle his marriage.”
“Forget the fact that she’s my ex-wife,” Hiccock said brusquely. “She’s the best on anyone’s list.”
Tate rolled his eyes. Reynolds looked Hiccock deeply in his. “Bill, I think the question is whether both of you can forget the fact that you are exes?”
“Are you kidding? We’re like the best of friends. We still have dinner once a week. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for each other …”
“Fuck you! No way!” Janice said resolutely. “I’ve got a practice, a funded study, and a neurotic, type-A personality male with a great talent for finding superior wines with whom I am trying to wash you out of my hair. No!”
“The lawyer?” Hiccock asked incredulously.
“He’s an arbitrator.”
“He’s arbitrary, all right. I thought that was over.”
“It was under review.”
“See, it’s not even a relationship, it’s a — a - a thing! Under review.”
“If you remember, we agreed not to talk about our other relationships.”
“What do you mean, we?”
“Listen, Bill, we would still be a we if you didn’t throw yourself so totally into that artificial intelligence thing and now this White House job. Christ, even the president gets time off!”
“Would you have liked it better if I sold out and took that Defense Department job with Robert Parnes right out of college, in a think tank, trying to figure out how to get more fucking mega-death from atomic weapons?”
“Or signed with the Giants! First off, what’s so goddamn wrong with money? And yes, a little more bringing home the bacon and a little less worrying about the pig would have been nice!”
“Wait, I’m lost again,” he said in exasperation, fingers splayed out on his forehead.
He could see she was trying to conceal a little smile. “Forget it, that analogy didn’t test well to the operational model so it must be deemed false. Here’s a better postulate, buckaroo! You got a degree in engineering, your first Master’s was in physics, your second Master’s in scientific methods. You are not a Bachelor of Science, you are a goddamn husband of science and you cannot have two wives.”
“Give me a fucking break. You’re jealous of my work?”
“Angry! I’m angry at it because it took you away from me. So I am out there,” her arm shot out pointing toward the window, “and if you haven’t gotten the message yet and you haven’t been dating anyone, don’t shit on my good luck!”
“Good luck! He’s old enough to be your father’s … younger brother.” He squeezed his eyes as soon as he said it, knowing he crossed a line — a receding hairline — with that remark.
“End it here and now.” Her face was daring him. “Not one step further,” she said, wagging her finger.
Hiccock felt he landed some good shots and received the TKO, so his mind reverted to his original reason for all this. “You’re right. I am not handling this well. I’ll try to do better. But Janice, this investigation is the most important thing in America. I need you. The president needs you. Your country needs you.”
“Two strikes out of three, Bill. I didn’t vote for him and I divorced you.”
“I know that face. You are going to help me, aren’t you?”
“You got me on the country thing.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Carly adjusted herself in the chair as Wally finished a phone call in the little office afforded MSNBC in the cramped quarters of the surprisingly small White House. Its initial design never considered the exponential growth of journalism outlets that would clamor for representation in the longest running story in American history, the office of the chief executive. Carly had played out the way she imagined this meeting was going to go at least 20 times in her head.
Wally was probably going to play the card that print journalists make crap for salary, whereas broadcast is the money train. Dangling the carrot of future big paydays once she established herself, he would then try to get her for the cheapest possible price. She was ready for his argument and felt she was prepared to walk if she didn’t get what she wanted.
Wally hung up the phone and mentally switched gears; a smile suddenly appeared on his face indicating he was ready to iron out the details with her. She let the silence grow, not wanting to start the negotiation.