“Of course.” He whispered into the cell phone. “Gotta run.” He cut off the cell call.
“Marty?”
“Yes, Will.”
“I watched the second half of the hearing, and I thought it went brilliantly.”
“Yes, it did. I don’t know who that agent was, but she was perfect.”
“I’d never heard of her, either, but I suspect Bob Kinney sent her for a reason.”
“A very apparent reason. How’s it going in L.A.?”
“Ask me tomorrow. I’ve got to get through this fund-raiser tonight.”
“I know, all the heavy hitters.”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a room with that much money,” Will said.
“I’m sure it won’t be the last room like that. How do you feel about running against Bill Spanner?” The Republicans had nominated the comparatively young senator from Ohio the evening before.
“I think he could turn out to be a handful,” Will said. “Since he doesn’t expect to be elected, he can say and do anything he wants, and, from what I know of him, he will. The disadvantage is, next to either of the other two, I’d look young, but next to Spanner, I look old.”
“Not old, wise.”
“By the way, Marty, I had a call from Joe Tracy at Justice, and he tells me that your chief of staff in Sacramento, Barbara Ortega, has made a bid for head of the Criminal Division.”
“Yes, she told me about it, but I’m staying at arm’s length from the process, and she knows that. I don’t want any appearance of any improper influence.”
“I guess that’s why she gave me as a reference instead of you,” Will said.
“Did she? Do you know her?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve met her a few times. It was clever of her to use my name; that got Joe’s attention.”
“She’s a very smart woman,” Stanton said.
“I take it she has your wholehearted support?”
“Off the record, yes, of course. And if Joe Tracy should walk in front of a bus, I think she’d eventually make a fine AG.”
“Well, on that recommendation, I’ll write Joe a note, just to formalize my support.”
“I’m sure Barbara would appreciate that.”
“Marty, I’m sure Tom Black’s people grilled you about any of your personal relationships that might jeopardize your candidacy.”
“Yes, of course. You need have no fears on that account. Oh, were you referring to Barbara?”
“Well, yes.”
“Our relationship has been very close but entirely professional. She has nothing to do with my divorce.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Again, my congratulations on the hearing. I hear they’re voting today, and your nomination will go to the full Senate tomorrow. I don’t anticipate much of a debate.”
“Anything I can do, anyone I can talk to, let me know, Will.”
“You’ve already done your footwork. Let’s have dinner in the quarters tomorrow night and celebrate.”
“I’d love to. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks, Marty. Good-bye.”
Stanton hung up and heaved a sigh of relief. He had not been kidding when he had told Barbara how horny he was. He was having wild dreams about her, and when he was back in Sacramento it was going to be very difficult to keep his hands off her.
23
At seven-fifteen, Will left his suite with Kitty Conroy and four Secret Service men to walk to the meeting room where the dinner was being held. More agents would be stationed along his route through the gardens, he knew. The Secret Service didn’t like him walking through hotels or their gardens, even one as upscale as the Bel-Air.
Will had spent the last hour going through a three-ring binder filled with photographs and short bios of the dinner guests, who were the hundred biggest contributors in California. It was his habit at the smaller dinners to rule out name tags and impress everybody with his memory of names.
The guests had been drinking since six-thirty, so they would be well oiled by the time he began to move among them. This was the kind of event the Secret Service liked, where every guest was known to them and had been vetted for criminal records or threats against the president. This was a “soft” event, except for Charlene.
Kitty spoke as they walked. “The committee chairman has followed your instructions to the letter,” she said. “Mrs. Branley will be seated on your right, perhaps in a wheelchair, we’re not sure yet, then Ralph Braden, the new CEO of Branley Industries, then Charlene, and boy-girl after that. Rivera, the governor-to-be will be on your left, then his wife, then boy-girl.”
“Charlene will try to change the place cards,” Will said.
“I’m on that, and so is the Secret Service.”
“How am I going to avoid an embrace with Charlene?”
“Frankly, I don’t know,” Kitty replied, “but even with no press or photographers there, you’re going to have to avoid the appearance of pushing her away. She’s a very popular lady with this crowd, and she has probably slept with half of them.”
“There’ll be a photographer there to take pictures of me with everybody,” Will said. “See that he leaves the room before the presentation of Charlene’s check.”
“Don’t worry, there’s only one, and he’s on my staff,” Kitty replied.
“See that no photos of me in the same frame as Charlene are released to the press.”
She opened the door to the meeting room for him. “Don’t worry.”
Will strode into the room and grabbed the first outstretched hand. “Hello, Mike,” he said. “How are Alice and the girls?”
The astonished man, whom he had never met before, managed to say, “Just fine, Mr. President,” before Will grabbed another hand. The photographer stayed at his elbow, getting at least one shot with every contributor. Then, out of a corner of his eye, Will could see Charlene Joiner elbowing her way through the crowd toward him. He tacked to his left, allowing the crowd to fill in between them, giving Charlene a cheerful wave.
A minute later, however, she appeared before him, wearing a dress that reminded him of the one Marilyn Monroe had worn when she sang “Happy Birthday” to Jack Kennedy, but lower-cut.
As she held out her arms to him, Will grabbed her hands and pulled them in front of her as he pecked her quickly on the cheek. He could feel the backs of his own hands pressing against her impressive breasts. “How are you, Charlene? Good to see you!”
“Will… ah, Mr. President, I need a moment of your time,” she was saying, but Will had already turned to another guest and his wife and was posing for a quick photo with them.
God only knew what cause Charlene wanted to buttonhole him about, he reflected. Larry Eugene Moody, her murderous ex-boyfriend, already had had his death sentence commuted. What the hell did she want now?
Will worked his way forward in the room, making progress, shaking hands, making eye contact, hugging and kissing wives, occasionally unable to block a hug from a male guest. Mentally, he counted, and when he was at ninety-two he had made the dais. Mrs. William Branley was being pushed in a wheelchair toward her seat next to his. Charlene was standing on the other side of her, and he managed to keep the wheelchair between them. Then, as he was about to take his seat, Charlene made her move and was deftly blocked by a large Secret Service agent who pretended to adjust Mrs. Branley’s chair, while another agent held Charlene’s chair. Reluctantly, she sat down next to the Branley Industries CEO, who immediately engaged her in conversation.
Will sipped lightly from a glass of champagne and conversed with Mrs. Branley until the first course arrived. Then he turned to Lieutenant Governor Rivera. “Mike, congratulations on ascending to the throne.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Rivera replied, smiling broadly, “but it may be more of a hot seat.”
Will laughed. “I expect you’ve got a pretty good handle on the job by now. After all, you’ve had a great role model in Marty.”
