Aftermath

13

By six o’clock it was already dark. Outside, the snow fell steadily. President Steinmetz had been sent safely on his way, after a hectic hour and a half in which Auden Travis had tried to do two days’ work. Now Auden could take off his coat, roll up his shirtsleeves, and catch up on some of his other duties.

The emergency power system of the White House had not been designed for extended use. A week and a half was well beyond its intended lifetime, and now and again the lights flickered and dimmed. Each time Auden stopped, sat back, stretched, and allowed himself a moment of rest. If the power reduction lasted more than a few seconds, he would have to find out what was happening.

It was during one of those moments of power reduction that Nick Lopez quietly entered the little office.

Auden, flustered, sat up and took his hands from behind his head. “I’m sorry, Senator. I didn’t know you were still here.”

Lopez just grinned. “I wasn’t here. I left, and I came back. Any chance of a few more minutes with el Presidente?”

“Not tonight. He’s on his way to Indian Head — by boat.”

“Is he, now?” Lopez gazed at Auden shrewdly. Without being asked, he pulled up a chair and settled onto it. He moved easily, and with unusual grace. “May I ask why?”

“He has a meeting there with one of the staff.” Auden was going to say no more, but Nick Lopez was staring at him with quiet sympathy. “With Yasmin Silvers.”

“Ah.” Lopez winked at Auden in a knowing way. His broad, good-natured face showed understanding and no hint of censure. “Well, I’m sure Saul has earned it. You know what they say, all work and no play . . .”

“It may be a business meeting.”

“It may.” Lopez smiled at Auden. “Then again, it may not. Your loyalty does you credit. Meanwhile, you are left here, to work and work and work. What time do you stop?”

“When I feel I’m not being productive anymore.” Auden gestured to his desk, piled high with notes and folders and clipboards. He knew Nick Lopez’s reputation, but it was flattering to have so important a man take a personal interest in what he was doing. “There’s always plenty of work — especially now, when the support systems don’t function.”

“Of course. Work is important. But you are young, it ought not to be all work. You should have some social life.”

“Is there any? I thought the city was at a standstill.”

“In some ways. But life goes on, even now. As a matter of fact, this very evening—” Lopez paused. “Look, a couple of my friends are having a little party. I told them I couldn’t make it, because I knew I would be coming here and I hoped to spend some time with the President. But now I can go. It’s not far from the White House, across Lafayette Park and a few blocks north. The streets are dangerous, but I’ll get a security escort. Why don’t you take a break and come along with me?”

It was tempting. Auden was tired to the point where he wasn’t sure he was getting anything useful done. On the other hand . . . “Senator Lopez, thank you for the invitation. But I don’t think I should. I don’t know your friends. They don’t know me.”

“It’s quite informal, and there will be a fair number of people there. I suspect you will know some of them already.” Lopez moved his chair closer. “I’ve been close to Jeremy and Raoul for years, you don’t need an invitation if you arrive with me. And they are nice people. I’m sure you would like them.”

“I wish I could. But I have a lot of work to do.” Auden stared at Lopez’s big, brown hand, with a thick gold band on its index finger. It was a contrast to his own forearm, white and freckled and golden-haired and just a couple of inches away. He withdrew his arm a little, trying to make the movement look natural. “It’s really nice of you to ask me.”

“I think you would enjoy yourself.” Nick Lopez pulled his hand away and smiled warmly at Auden. “Look, this is going to sound peculiar. But are you scared of me?”

“Scared? Well, no, not scared, I wouldn’t say that.” Auden did his best to smile back. “But you have a — well, let’s say, a reputation.”

“Auden, for Christ’s sake.” Nick Lopez laughed aloud. “I’m a politician, and this is Washington. The original city for, ’Unless you’ve got something horrible to say about him, I don’t want to hear it.’ Remember Harry Truman’s advice? ’If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog.’ Sure, people say things about me. They say things about your boss, too. One day they’ll say things about you.”

“But there was — well, that court case . . .” Auden couldn’t bring himself to be more specific.

“Raymond Silvers, and his attempt to kill me? That’s a perfect example of what I mean. If you want to know what really happened, you should read the actual court hearings. You’ll see that I didn’t do a thing except reject his unwanted advances. But the media all hate me, I’m much too patriotic for them. They distort everything. I can’t let their rumors and lies control my life. Or yours.” He moved his hand again, this time placing it lightly onto Auden’s forearm. Auden felt the goose bumps rise, as unwanted and as uncontrollable as a blush.

“Look,” Lopez went on, “I’ll make you a promise. You arrive at the party with me, but after that you’re on your own. You talk with anyone you want to. You do whatever you want to. You leave anytime you want to. What do you say?”

“It sounds very interesting. I’ve hardly left my desk for two weeks. And I haven’t been out to a party in months. My clothes—”

“ — are fine, just the way they are. I told you, this is informal. One question, though. Do you have anybody at the moment?”

“You mean, anybody, like—”

“Yes, that is exactly what I mean. Look, Auden, I’m not being nosy, but I know one thing for sure. When I show up at the party with somebody looking like you, and people realize that the two of us aren’t an item, that’s the first question I’m going to be asked. So I’m asking you ahead of time. Do you have someone?”

“Not right now, Senator. Last year.”

“Not ’Senator,’ please. Call me Nick, or Nicky — you’ll have to call me that at the party; everyone else does. And last year was last year, it doesn’t count. We all have pasts. Now the New Year, reviving old desires . . . Ah, my beloved, fill the cup that clears, today of past regrets and future fears . . .” He took Auden’s hand and squeezed it. “Now, I’m really in your power. You have a secret of mine that all Washington would love to know, something you must never reveal. Nick Lopez, quoting old poetry — and not even good old American poetry. It would ruin my reputation. Let’s go.”

And, as Auden rolled down his shirtsleeves and picked up his jacket, Lopez added softly and in a different voice, “There’s one other thing I have to say, Au-den. You can make what you like of this, forget it or ignore it or use it any way you choose. But so far as I am concerned, I’m really thrilled that you don’t have anybody now.”