First Lady (2 page)
I’ve already deleted five times as much text as I’ve kept, especially when it comes to the “Marlowe
For
President: A Voice for the People” campaign. I feel like my being out of the country for most of her campaign is really hurting my ability to chronicle that part of her story. Sure, I can read the papers, interview people, and talk to Devlyn herself — but I didn’t “live” those last few years with the rest of
America
. I didn’t “feel” it like the rest of
America
did. Up to that point, and after that point, I’m fine. I think. Though putting her term or, God help me, two terms in office into some sort of historical perspective is going to be a challenge. Too many people are still walking around with their mouths hanging open, not believing that it happened at all… much less understanding how or why.
The first female president… that makes Devlyn the most powerful, and probably most famous, woman in American history.
Sorry, Jackie and Marilyn. And I haven’t even touched on her being the first open lesbian to take a stand squarely in the center of the world political stage. Sure, there’ve been a lot of actresses and singers, but never a woman politician at anywhere near her level of success. Though I think of Canadian Prime Minister Martin Allaire coming out of the closet after his male lover died… what, eight or nine years ago? It wasn’t quite the same because he was already in office when he made the announcement, but it still paved the way.
Lauren sighed deeply.
It makes me sick to think about what happened to him and… God knows, I don’t need another reason to worry for Devlyn. I’ve got enough already. We’ve come so far in just a single generation, but there is still so much hate. It wasn’t even a Canadian who stabbed Allaire, but an American.
Anyway…
Certainly the social and economic revolution spurred by the recession of 2008 set the stage for the Emancipation Party’s rise to power. But how does a party that nobody had ever heard of 20 years ago elect a president? How did the Republican and Democratic parties lose so much that they allowed this to happen? Isn’t that beyond the scope of this book? Do I care? I’ve never had to write so much back history before. Will readers buy it simply because it actually happened or will they require more? I’m not —
A gentle knock on Lauren’s door interrupted her. She looked at the screen and nervously licked her lips, unsure of how to preserve her work. “Save file,” she said, and SAVED flashed at the top before disappearing. She silently uttered a little prayer of thanks. “Close file. Activate screensaver.”
“Coming,” she called, hearing another knock at her door. She extracted her socked feet from beneath Gremlin’s warm belly, missing his warmth instantly as she jogged across the floor. Lauren opened the door to find a Secret Service agent standing there with a thick envelope in his hand.
“Ms. Strayer,” he greeted her cordially.
Lauren smiled at him. His short, nearly military haircut, clean-shaven face and dark suit would have given away his job had the writer not known exactly who he was. “Hello, Jeff.”
“I have something that came for you special delivery and something from the President as well.”
Lauren took the large envelope, a little startled by its weight. The label read Starlight Publishing. Her brow creased. She wasn’t expecting a manuscript back.
“And these are from the President.” The young man couldn’t suppress his grin when he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out two Hershey Bars.
Lauren laughed but happily took the chocolate. “And was there a message with this important presidential delivery?”
“There was.” Jeff
blushed
a little.
Lauren’s eyebrows jumped. “Well?”
“Umm… she umm… She said to tell you she was sorry for playing dirty.” He peered down uncertainly at Lauren. “And that you’d know what she meant.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed as she remembered. “I most certainly do know what she meant. I was supposed to have an appointment to get my hair trimmed and somehow the driver, who I didn’t want in the first place, I might add, ended up taking me to the dentist! And then—”
“Ma’am?”
“Uh… yes.”
“That’s more information than I really needed.”
Lauren’s mouth clicked shut. She winced. “Oh.
Sorry, Jeff.”
She squeezed his arm and her gaze softened. “I know I keep telling you and you keep ignoring me, but you can call me Lauren, you know. I’ve known you for nearly a year already.”
“I know, Ms. Strayer. Thank you.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. Why did she bother? “Thanks for the goodies.”
Jeff bit his lower lip in a gesture that Lauren found oddly adolescent for a man with a fully loaded Glock .40 strapped to his side. “I’m supposed to report back to the President and tell her if she and the children are forgiven.”
Lauren sucked in a surprised breath. “What is she talking about? The children never needed to be forgiven. Could you ask them if they’d like to come over to my room and…, I dunno, do kid things?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He rocked back on his heels and decided to be bold.
“And the President?
Can she come over and play?”
Lauren laughed, thinking that his choice of words was perfect.
“Of course, Jeff.”
He looked relieved.
Lauren lifted her chin a little. “As soon as she comes and apologizes on her own.”
The man couldn’t stop the wide grin that split his face.
Lauren blinked for a few seconds, surprised by his reaction, until realization dawned. “What time did you pick?”
Uh oh.
“Pick? I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Strayer,” he lied, glancing down at his wristwatch uncertainly.
“Uh huh.”
Lauren pursed her lips. “In the pool,” she prodded, gesturing with one hand. “What
time are
Devlyn and I supposed to make up today and how much will you win if you’re right?”
Jeff’s face turned bright red. “Umm…”
“Don’t bullshit me, Jeff. I’ve had a recent dental experience. After the way Devlyn tricked me, killing you would be anticlimactic.”
“I have
and I’ll win $75,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Cheapsters,” Lauren snorted. She’d made $240 the week before when she correctly selected the exact moment during Devlyn’s meeting with the Secretary of Defense when that little vein in the President’s forehead would pop out, signaling doom for whomever the tall woman was talking to.
Lauren checked her watch,
then
looked back up at Jeff. She wasn’t exactly mad at Dev, she decided, more like supremely annoyed. It was
“Give the children their message now, please. And you can tell Devlyn to stop by in about,” she grinned and slapped Jeff on the back, “oh, 45 minutes or so. Dinner’s on me.”
*
*
*
DEV TOSSED FOR THE thousandth time; sleep, apparently, was not on her agenda for tonight. She rolled over to face Lauren’s side of the bed. It was cold and empty. A little sheepishly, she grabbed the pillow Lauren normally used and tried to connect with her absent partner. But her linens had been freshly changed and all she could detect was the faint scent of the fabric softener, which smelled good certainly, but not like her longed-for companion.
She sat up and then swung her feet over the edge of the bed, pushing them into her slippers as she reached for her robe. Sighing, she padded to the window and gazed out at the moon that hung low and full in the sky. “You’re pitiful, Marlowe.” She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest gently against the cold glass, feeling foolish and lonely. “She’s only been gone for 10 days.” And that meant four more until she’d be home.
Devlyn opened tired eyes and looked out at the gently falling snow. A thick blanket covered the ground, looking clean and pristine, and she smiled, thinking that her kids and Lauren would love to go out and make a snowman.
Dev wondered if she would go insane before the writer returned home from her business trip. She knew that Lauren couldn’t spend all her time in
To need someone this much was as discomfiting as it was wonderful. Even when she and Samantha were married, the irresistible first Mrs. Marlowe could go on a trip, which she frequently did, and Dev had always managed just fine. Maybe it’s just because I’m older now. I get all sentimental. But somehow Devlyn knew that wasn’t the whole truth.
With Samantha, so much of Dev’s focus was on herself, her career, what she wanted, how she felt,
the
bright future that Sam and the children would share in. On many levels Dev realized that she’d been much more selfish with Samantha and that Lauren didn’t let her get away with any of that. This time they each had their own ambitions and expectations, and somehow Dev found
herself
much more comfortable with that. Despite her role as the most powerful person on the planet, she didn’t feel that she eclipsed Lauren. She had met her match and it was a relief.
That didn’t mean, however, that she liked being separated from her.
“Shit,” Dev mumbled, pushing off from the window and returning to the bed. She yanked up her pillow and left her room, wandering down the hall to Lauren’s room in her pajamas. The Secret Service agents at each end of the hall pretended not to notice as a disheveled Dev quietly walked past the portraits of previous presidents and an antique settee.
Trying the knob on Lauren’s apartment, she found it unlocked. No matter how much she’d prodded, Lauren had insisted on keeping her own separate quarters. It had been controversial when Lauren moved into the White House to observe the President for her work on Dev’s biography. Now, however, the press was having a field day over the two women living in the same house — a house owned by the taxpayers — while being engaged. Lauren had insisted on not adding fuel to the fire by officially moving into the Presidential living quarters, though Devlyn suspected that Lauren’s motives for wanting her own space were far simpler than that. Life with a boisterous family, for someone who was generally a quiet, independent person, was still a lot to take; even after a year at the White House, Lauren needed her privacy.
Devlyn stepped inside the large room. It was mostly dark, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bluish light streaming through the window. She took a deep, comforting breath. The room held traces of Lauren’s perfume. Her gaze flicked under the bed. She waited to hear a familiar growl before she remembered that Gremlin and his lady love, Princess, a prize Pomeranian that Devlyn inherited from her mother when the show dog was knocked up by the randy Gremlin, were sleeping with the children while Lauren was away.
Dev ambled across the floor and pushed off her slippers as she crawled into bed, snuggling up to Lauren’s pillow and tossing her own to the side.
“Yup.
Pitiful,” she murmured, letting the familiar scents wash over her. “Ahhh…
Much better.”
She closed her eyes to give her exhausted brain some much-needed rest.
It was bad enough that Lauren was out of town and Dev felt like a spoiled child denied her favorite toy, but the State of the Union address was only a few days away, and the President was, as her father would say, “As nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Because there was no way to deliver a realistic address only a few weeks after taking office, she had dispensed with the State of the Union address in her inaugural year, as many presidents before her had done.
But this year the address was not only expected, it had been in the planning stages since late November.
In just a few days she would take that walk into the Capitol, where both houses and the nation would wait to hear what she had to say. She almost wished that President Wilson hadn’t revived the practice of the president actually delivering the speech and that she could use Thomas Jefferson’s method of having clerks read it to both houses independently. Then she wished she had back the time that she had wasted learning tidbits of information that were better suited for Trivial Pursuit than real life. A wry smile curled her lips. At least I usually win.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done this sort of thing before. Every year she had delivered the State of the State address to the citizens of
There had been a bombing of civilian targets by a violent anti-government militia. Dev’s move to quash the group had been bold and decisive, but not without loss of life. And, in her mind at least, it had not been one of her shining moments.
There had been an assassination attempt that had very nearly claimed her life and was still the source of sporadic nightmares and physical pain. If it weren’t for the support of her closest friend and political ally, her chief of staff David McMillian, and Lauren, Dev wasn’t sure she would have made it through the months of rehabilitation, both mental and physical.
