Will visibly cringed at that, and Frank commented, “You could, but Harry Reid will try to use it to have you impeached. He won’t be able to do it, but it sure won’t look good.”
“Harry Reid is the leader of the Senate, not the House. Only the House can impeach me, and we have a lock on the House.” Frank opened his mouth to say something, and I simply held up my hand. “I know, I know, it would still look horrendous.”
“What I want to know is how in the hell the Secret Service let your wife anywhere near these nuts?” said Will.
My phone rang. It was the secretary announcing the arrival of Ralph Basham, the head of the Secret Service. I ordered him in. “That’s a very good question, Will, so let’s find out.”
Ralph came in and moved to the desk in front of me. “Mister President, I am really sorry about this.”
“Ralph, I am glad you are here. Will was just asking me how the hell this could happen. I sure hope you have an answer other than a total and colossal clusterfuck by the agency that is supposed to protect me and my family.”
He sighed. “No, sir, that would be the answer. This is a complete and total breakdown in security on our part. Your family should never have been brought out a door anywhere near the protesters, they should have been immediately placed in the limo, and Mrs. Buckman should never have been allowed to get near the protesters. I have no excuses for the agency. I have ordered a complete review of what happened, and the supervisory agent in charge of her security has been placed on administrative leave pending disciplinary action.”
“Yeah? Well, that ain’t going to cut it, Ralph! I am expecting a complete review of the entire damn system! Oh, and you can expect to explain this to the Senate, too! Your little agency has just managed to put my entire administration into the hot seat for the next few months. Congratulations and thank you.” I pointed at the door. “OUT!” This was going to cost him his job.
Basham left, and I looked over at the other two. “I am going upstairs. I don’t care if a nuclear war breaks out. I am taking no calls except from my family or their lawyers. Will, I leave you to figure out a graceful way to dig me out of this. Feel free to throw everybody under the bus, including my wife. Hell, throw her under the bus, and then back it up over her a few times!” I stood up and headed up to the Residence.
I went upstairs to the Residence, wondering to myself just how much worse this was going to get. I doubted Marilyn was actually going to have to spend any hard time in the house of many doors, but the video now endlessly repeating on the news channels clearly showed my wife punching a preacher in the face and starting a riot. That must have violated at least some laws, even if it was only disturbing the peace! I was tempted to drink more than I should, and I held off on that, but decided that one drink wouldn’t hurt, so I made myself a Seven & Seven. Who knew, maybe I could get drunk enough to get sent to jail. Marilyn and I could share a cell.
I was still nursing my drink, and contemplating looking for some leftovers in the kitchenette, when the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mister President, this is Paul D’Agosta. I have somebody here who would like to speak to you.” I heard the phone fumbling.
“Carl!?”
I sighed to myself. It was Marilyn. “I’m here. Having fun, are we?”
“Carl, don’t be like that.”
“Like what, honey? Are you meeting new friends? You know, it’s important to be polite to your cellmates.”
She gave a small shriek. “It’s not funny!”
“It’s too bad you’re not here! We have a double feature down in the movie theater. We’re going to watch Women in Chains One and Two. Sounds exciting! I love buttered popcorn…”
“CARL!”
“Let me speak to your mouthpiece. I think that’s what they call lawyers in prison,” I asked.
“ASSHOLE!” I heard her faintly telling D’Agosta. “Here! He’s being a jerk!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Mister D’Agosta, what’s going on?” I asked.
“I already have an appointment with the Allegheny County District Attorney in the morning. Your wife is not in a cell or a holding tank or anything like that. She has not been searched or processed. She’s in a small office and they promised to bring in a meal and a cot, and one of her detail will be with her at all times…”
“That would be one of the detail that managed to get her tossed in jail?”
“Mister President, I am not going to get into that, but it is not being helpful. You need to calm down while we sort this out.”
“Yeah, okay, sorry.”
“Now, like I said, I am meeting with the District Attorney tomorrow, early. I don’t think he is any more interested in this going to trial than you are, so we have an excellent chance of getting this all tossed out,” he told me. “With any luck at all, she’ll be out of here early in the morning.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll be expecting your call. Can I talk to my wife again.”
Marilyn took the phone and said, somewhat frostily, “Yes?”
“Sorry about earlier. I’m just not used to the idea of you going to jail. That’s usually my job. I love you. Are you okay?”
“I know. I’m fine. I’m just so pissed! I love you, too. I’m sorry if this is going to be a problem.”
“That’s all right, we’ll figure it out. Just be careful. You don’t want to become somebody’s prison bitch.”
“CARL!”
“Hey, if they book you, can you bring me back a copy of the photo, you know the one with the numbers on it, maybe an 8x10 glossy, with you in a prison unif…”
“ASSHOLE!” She hung up the phone.
I smiled to myself and made another drink. I sat down in my recliner and Stormy jumped up beside me. I rubbed her head and asked, “You’re not going to bite a mailman, are you? I can’t afford to have you in puppy jail, too.” Stormy licked my face and then passed gas.
Wonderful! I had to wonder if there was some subtle moral to be drawn from that, but if there was, it was too subtle for me. I finished my drink and got up, to wander into the kitchen. I toasted some bread and opened a can of sardines and made a sandwich, which I had with iced tea. I didn’t need to drink any more. No matter how much my family might drive me to drink, I had to resist the temptation.
I called the kids back and told them the latest. Then I called Utica and told Marilyn’s mother about her daughter being in jail. That was not an enjoyable conversation.
I woke up the next morning feeling somewhat better about it all. I knew, realistically, that this ridiculous incident was not going to land Marilyn in the Big House, where she would be a prison bitch making license plates for the rest of her life. Even if these nut jobs decided to press charges, my wife was a first time offender, and even a hack public defender would be able to plead this thing down to time served, some kind of fine, and maybe some public service. Much more likely was a reduction from assault and battery down to disturbing the peace or making a public nuisance, which were misdemeanors, not felonies. As far as the family was concerned, it would be embarrassing, and fun to tell at Christmas and family reunions, but nothing more.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t just my family. Marilyn and the Secret Service had fucked up by the numbers on national television. My administration had been relatively scandal free up to this point. There had been Babygate in 2004, which had also been personal, but since it occurred when I was a kid, had never really amounted to much. Granted, the fruit of my loins had managed to get arrested more than once since then, usually for DWI or possession of cocaine or something equally stupid, but he had abided by the terms of the agreements and kept his mouth shut. The New York papers would make a stink for a few days and then let it die. Once I was out of office, nobody would give a shit.