Supreme Courtship

CHAPTER 25

Donald Vanderdamp found himself in the one-thousandth- or was it the two-thousandth?-greenroom of his political career, reflecting on the strange vicissitudes that had brought him here while wishing, with every fiber in his Ohioan being, that he was back at the Wapakoneta Lanes. He imagined the feel of the kidskin soft leather glove as he pulled it on, the shoes that fit like ballet slippers, the ambient rumble of balls going down polished lanes, the rattle of the pins being struck, of the pin setting machines, jubilant cries of “Strike!” and groans of despair, of the buttery aroma of popcorn, the mouthwatering tang of broiling hot dogs and sizzling burgers, of ice-cold beer, the huggy cluster of grandchildren as you explained how to score… If there was an afterlife paradise, surely it looked something like this. Keep your heavenly choir of archangels. Meanwhile, here he was, very much this side of paradise, preparing to go onstage to debate former Senator Dexter Mitchell, President Lovebucket, for a prize that he, Donald Vanderdamp, did not even want. How, he wondered, had it come to-this?

His campaign manager was talking to him. Perhaps he should listen? Though why, really? Well, one had to be polite.

“Right,” the President said. “Good point.”

“Sorry, sir?” the campaign manager said.

“What you were saying. I agree. I’ll hit that point hard.”

“Right,” the campaign manager said diffidently. “Probably best to stay off the POTUS thing. It could open us up to the, well, the Cartwright… you know. Now, on the border mining,” he said. “The numbers are pretty clear there.”

The President, suddenly alert, said, “Charley.”

“I know sir, but-”

“I don’t care what the numbers are.”

“I’m only pointing out that-”

“Charley. I don’t care if every citizen, man, woman, and child, of Texas, of New Mexico, Arizona, California, or Guam for that matter is in favor of mining the gosh-darn border with Mexico. The United States Constitution says, in blazing neon letters, that individual states may not engage in their own foreign policies. It’s just not up for discussion.”

“That may be, sir, but four states legislatures are about to-”

“Make fools of themselves.”

“Agreed. All I’m just suggesting is that we… that a little tactical ambiguity would go a long way toward-”

“ ‘Tactical ambiguity’? Charley. Is that what you think of me?”

“No, sir. Never mind.”

“I appreciate what you’re doing for me, Charley. I do. I know it’s an unusual campaign.”

“When you go out onstage, you’ll walk toward each other, meet midstage, shake hands, go to your respective podiums. Now, he may try to pat you on the back or the shoulder. We have made it clear to his people that we do not want any pitty-patting, but I don’t trust them. So when you shake his hand, do it face on so he can’t reach your shoulder.”

“Why don’t I give him a kiss,” the President said. “Full, on the lips. Our tongues melting into each other’s, our bodies touching, becoming as one, heaving…”

Charley stared.

“I read that in a book when I was fifteen years old,” President Vanderdamp said. “It was a spy novel. Not a very good one. Pretty awful, actually. But at the time I thought it was the sexiest, steamiest thing I could ever imagine. Now, my Lord, you can’t turn on a television without seeing bodies writhing. I love this country, Charley, but I worry for it. What young people today see… Well,” he smiled, “I’ll try to restrain myself from making mad, passionate love to President Lovebucket.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“This campaign, honestly? It’s the most bass-ackward thing I’ve ever worked on. I don’t get it. But however it turns out, I want to say, it’s an honor working for you. You’re a decent guy.”

“Well, thank you, Charley,” the President smiled. “In the unlikely event they ever give me a statue, I’ll have that put on it. A decent guy.”

An aide opened the door and said, “Ready, Mr. President.”

President Vanderdamp stood, buttoned his jacket, patted his necktie.

“Battle stations. I used to say that in the navy. Course, those were only exercises, but it always gave me goose bumps. Battle stations…”

“Oh, on that…”

“Um?”

“The Nimitz thing? Maybe best to avoid…”

“Yes, Charley,” the President said.

I KNEW THIS was going to lead to dessert,” Pepper said. “Man does not live by entrée alone.”

They were in a hotel. A nice one, in out-of-the-way Foggy Bottom. Pepper, having a net worth approximately twenty times Declan’s, had made the reservation on her credit card. They had arrived half an hour apart so as to avoid being spotted together. If it had a furtive aspect-and it did-it was for a reason: photographers, alerted by the item about their cozy dinner at Stare Decisis, had begun staking out Declan’s Kalorama apartment and Pepper’s on Connecticut Avenue near the zoo, in hopes of getting a shot of the two of them emerging together early in the morning; perhaps holding hands or sharing a foamy latte.

“Does this feel at all… dirty to you?” Pepper said.

“I can’t quite put my finger on it,” Declan said. “But it certainly feels strange.”

“Feels ‘strange’ to me, too. Well, shall we get out legal pads and analyze it?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to be here,” Declan said, staring out the window. “I mean I’m practically bursting with intent.”

“There’s just nothing sexier than making love to a lawyer. Makes me all over quivery.”

Declan blanched.

“What’s wrong?” Pepper said.

“Tony said something like that to me once. And I couldn’t”-his cheeks now filled with color: red-“perform.”

“Honey, she was gay. I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe we should analyze it. Maybe a little discovery is in order.”

“Maybe a little getting under the covers is in order. Baby?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to take off your overcoat? Feels like making it with a flasher.”

“Good point. Jesus, Pep,” he sighed soulfully.

“Keep taking off the coat. That’s it. Now how about the jacket? There you go…”

“Six months ago I was happily married.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Married, okay. Happily? Let’s look at it. But could we maybe be in the now instead of the then?”

“Sorry, I’m so damned awkward sometimes. Do you like the top or the bottom?”

Pepper stared. “This ain’t summer camp, and I ain’t a bunk bed. Now look here, Chiefy, we are two grown adults, we are colleagues, we have discovered a mutual attraction. We are neither of us cheating on anyone, inasmuch as our spouses filed for divorce. We are both heterosexual-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a statement of fact intended to differentiate myself from your prior partner for the purpose of putting you at ease so as to… oh, c’mere… initiate foreplay… um… yes… so as to stimulate the… mmmm… stim… u… late… the senses in such a manner as… oh, yes… yes… see, you haven’t forgotten how to make a girl happy… oh… ohh… in such a… mmmm… lost my place… where was I… oh, yes… oh, yes… oyez…”

“Did you just say oyez?”

“Oh, yes.”