drinking seemed to do that. When he was a young buck, he could put away twice the amount and wake up fit and ready to run.
Those days were gone. A lot of things were gone for Sam Levering. His wife had divorced him fifteen years ago. That had actually been a career boost. Marla could not handle her liquor and was developing into a liability.
Sure, a divorced politician was suspect in those days, but Levering managed to charm the people again. He won the governorship and left early to run for the Senate.
He and Marla had shared custody of their son, Tad. That was another thing Sam had lost.
Each morning when he awoke, Levering felt a small hole inside him. It could not be filled. It was shaped like his son, the one he had once envisioned taking the governor’s mansion and then joining him in the Senate. And then the presidency. A dynasty.
But Tad had turned away from everything, every value, Sam Levering ever had.
It started with teenage antics. Levering thought that was normal and would play itself out. Tad liked cars, liked girls, and liked them both fast. A chip off the old block. Levering had even felt a little pride when Tad stole a cheerleader from the football team captain and spent a weekend with her in a Tulsa motel.
Then in his late teens, Tad had become progressively odd and distant. All because of a preacher.
Levering had grown up in the Bible belt but renounced the faith of his youth when he was in the Army. He did attend church services when the political weather vane pointed in that direction. But on fishing or camping trips with Tad, Levering taught him the value of self-reliance and skepticism of all things religious.
“Use the religious folks to get yourself elected,” he counseled his son. “But don’t fall into it yourself. The American religion is finishing first.”
Tad, he thought, soaked up every word.
But then that preacher got hold of his son, and Tad got “saved.” How Levering despised that word. As much as he despised the preacher, a man named Doty.
When Tad announced that he was a Christian, Levering almost went nuts. There had been huge arguments. Levering called Tad names he had never used before, even for political opponents. Tad took off.
That was eight years ago. Levering did manage to locate his son once through a private investigator. But Tad’s only response was to send his father a Bible with a note pleading for him to “turn to Christ.”
Levering sauntered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face, trying to put the past out of his mind. He heard his cell phone bleeping on the bed and went to answer it.
“Who’s your Huckleberry?” Anne Deveraux asked.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Levering asked.
“Heard it in a movie once. Now tell me who your Huckleberry is.”
“You, Anne.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the best.”
“And do you know why?”
“Is this a personal call? Because I’ve got a ton – ”
“I’ll tell you why. Because I see things before they happen. I anticipate trouble.”
“Yes, you do, Anne.” It was true. She was the best in the business at not only getting out of a crisis, but steering clear of those that did not yet exist.
“Well,” Anne asked, “when can I see you?”
Levering went through his mental checklist. “I have several short meetings today.”
“Work me in.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say I see something coming.”
“What’s it about?”
“Madame Justice Millicent Mannings Hollander.”
Levering met Anne near Independence Avenue. The day was overcast but hot, making him sweat almost immediately. He felt like he was in detox.
She was waiting for him on a bench that offered a view of the Supreme Court building. She was eating a Power Bar and sipping a Starbucks.
“Breakfast?” Levering said, sitting next to her.
“And lunch and dinner,” she said. “This will take me to eleven o’clock tonight.”
The senator shook his head. “Aren’t you afraid of burnout, Anne?”
“No. Spontaneous combustion. If I’m not moving forward, I’m afraid I’ll explode.”
“What about your personal life?”
She looked at him. At least he assumed she was looking at him through her dark glasses. “Why the sudden interest in my personal life?”
Levering shrugged. “I was just thinking. You haven’t got a family. Maybe you should think about it.”
“Don’t go family values on me, Senator. I could not handle that paradigm shift.”
“Hey, you’re free to live your life.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But it’s your life we should be talking about.”
“Go.”
Anne finished her Power Bar, tossing the wrapper into a trash can. Then she took a sip of coffee to wash it down. “Hollander,” she said. “Caution.”
“Why?”
“How much is Francis behind her for chief?”
“All the way. I made sure of that.”
“Tell him not to say anything yet.”
Levering used one of Anne’s favorite lines. “Detail me,” he said.
“The last thing you need is an unstable chief of the Supreme Court.”
“You talking because of the accident?”
“Of course.”
“But Millie Hollander has always been steady as a rock.”
“Accidents do things to people.”
“Yeah, but she’s been given a clean bill of health.”
“Physically, yes.”
Levering said, “Just tell me what you’re driving at.”
“They allowed her to go home yesterday. You may have seen the news.”
“I did.”
“Well, it may interest you to know that Madame Justice did not go straight to her home.”
