DUTCH AND GINA: A SCANDAL IS BORN Page 4

  “No bigger asshole alive,” Crader McKenzie was saying as he and Dutch walked along the West Wing corridor of the White House. “His word isn’t worth the time he takes to speak it.”

  “Just keep at it,” Dutch advised. “We’ll apply some public pressure to the Speaker if we have to. But I don’t want to do that until we have to.”

  “With friends like him, Dutch,” Crader said, shaking his head, “who the hell needs enemies? I mean honestly!”

  “I know.”

  “He, a Democrat, is giving us more fits than the Republicans.”

  “I know, Cray, I know. Just keep the pressure on.”

  “Whoa,” Crader said, looking beyond Dutch. “Who’s that lady?”

  Dutch looked in that direction.

  LaLa King was standing outside of the Roosevelt Room rummaging through a file as if she was checking to make sure she had all of her ducks in a row. She wore a business skirt suit that gave great definition to her voluptuous body. She wore reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked more like some button-up college professor than the easygoing friend Dutch and Gina knew and loved.

  Dutch stopped walking, causing Crader to stop too. “That’s Loretta,” Dutch said, and then called her name.

  LaLa, startled, turned so quickly to the sound that she almost lost her folder filled with papers, not to mention her glasses. Crader smiled. For some reason he found her simply adorable.

  “Oh, Mr. President,” she said, coming toward him.

  She could feel her heart pound as she walked toward the two powerful men. But not because of the president. Dutch had always made her feel comfortable from day one. But Crader McKenzie, a man that caught her fancy just from watching him on TV, a first for her, was with him.

  She attempted to smile, to do all she could to conceal her anxiety. “Good morning.”

  “Hello, Loretta. Would like you to meet Crader McKenzie, my point man on Immigration Reform.”

  “Yes, I saw the meet and greet with the Speaker.” She extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. McKenzie.”

  “She’s Gina’s best friend, Cray,” Dutch pointed out.

  “Well now,” Crader said, shaking her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Loretta.”

  LaLa didn’t think it was possible but the man actually was even better looking in person.

  “So you’re Gina’s BFF?”

  LaLa smiled. “I’m her assistant too, actually. Oh, and LaLa.”

  Dutch smiled. Crader couldn’t quite follow. “Pardon?”

  “You can call me LaLa. Most people do."

  Crader smiled. “Then LaLa it is. LaLa. That name just sings.”

  “Her name may sing,” Dutch said, as he became mobile again, “but I don’t think she does.”

  “Oh, no, I don’t, “LaLa agreed.

  “Take care of yourself, LaLa,” Crader said, walking away too.

  “You too, Mr. McKenzie.”

  Crader mouthed the word Crader as he moved to catch up with the always fast-moving Dutch Harber.

  LaLa smiled. She knew he had the looks going on, but he was nice too? She was cautious, of course, men could be such dogs sometimes, but she was pleasantly surprised by him. Maybe even hopeful, she thought, as she headed for the meeting she had almost forgotten she had to attend.

  Max Brennan sat at the head of the table in the Roosevelt Room of the White House. He was reviewing with his staff the protocols for the upcoming White House conference on immigration reform. Because the President himself would be chairing the event, they could leave nothing to chance. LaLa and Christian and a few additional members of the First Lady’s staff, were also asked to be in attendance. Max was handing out the itinerary when Allison Shearer walked in.

  He knew it couldn’t be good news whenever the press secretary felt it necessary to interrupt one of his meetings. And when he saw that look on Allison’s face, he glanced at his deputy chief of staff.

  “Let’s take five,” the deputy said to the staff and all of them, understanding what that meant, began to clear the room.

  Allison, however, asked LaLa and Christian to stay put. When the room was cleared, LaLa and Christian took closer seats and Allison headed for the now empty seat to the right of Max.

  Max leaned back in his chair, his tired gray eyes staring at no-one but Allison in his customary broodiness, attempting, as was his way, to figure out what in the world was the big news this time.

  And as Allison took her seat, she was staring at him too. She liked Max but didn’t feel she knew him. He wasn’t a tall man, barely five-seven in shoes, with a compact body on the verge of going to seed, balding brown hair, and a face that wasn’t handsome but was charming enough to get him some play with the ladies. Although he and the president were best friends and both were now in their mid-forties, Allison was struck by how different in every way they were; how they were the very definition of polar opposites.

  “Okay,” Max said, “it can’t be good so hit me with it.”

  “It’ll wallop you all right,” Allison said, sweeping her long, blonde hair out of her face.

  “What is it?”

  “The story that won’t die.”

  Max frowned. “You’re kidding? It’s been a week since Gina told that joke. They’re still beating that dead horse?”

  “Only it’s not just the bench warmers anymore,” Allison said. “The stars have gotten in on the act.”

  “Who’s leading the charge?”

  “On our side or theirs?”

  Max frowned again. “What do you mean our side? We have a side?”

  Allison nodded. “Led by none other than Senator Clyburn himself.”

  “Clyburn?” Max said angrily. “After all the president’s done for him?”

  Allison agreed. “No way would he have won reelection if the president wouldn’t have opened up the war chest of the DNC and gave him all the money he needed to mount an effective campaign.”

  “But wait a minute,” Christian said. “Senator Clyburn’s a Democrat. Why would a Democrat be criticizing the president?”

  “Because he’s a Democrat from Kentucky,” Max said. “And they don’t much care for this president in those parts. Especially when he latched Gina to his wagon.”

  “That’s so stupid,” Christian said.

  “It’s politics,” Allison said. “Never underestimate politics.”

  “Why can’t Clyburn just stay silent?” LaLa wanted to know. “We understand he comes from a tough, conservative state and he can’t be supportive of the president, we get that. But why couldn’t he just stay out of it?”

  “Because winning isn’t enough for that clown,” Max said. “He wants to give the folks back home a little red meat. ‘I stood toe to toe with Dutch Harber,’ he wants to proclaim. The jerk.” Then he looked at Allison. “Who’s leading the charge for the Republicans?”

  “The Senate Majority Leader himself.”

  “Not that little pipsqueak.”

  “Yup. His Napoleon complex is in overdrive. Now he’s gone all Tea Party on us and is Mister Tough Guy, questioning Little Walter’s parentage too. And not just questioning it, but talking as if he’s just certain that child is not the president’s son.”

  “What’s he demanding?” Max asked.

  “He’s demanding that the president either resigns from office or divorces his sinful wife.”

  “Resign?” LaLa asked, astounded. “Divorce? Because of a joke? Are they for real?”

  “Oh, they’re for real,” Allison said. “Not because they believe this nonsense, but because it plays well on TV. Beating up on the First Lady won’t hurt them at all back home.”

  “I don’t get it,” Christian said, his blue eyes blazing with puzzlement. “What has Mrs. Harber ever done that would turn them against her? She’s really nice.”

  “They know that,” Allison said. “But Washington always needs a villain and she’s as good a one as any. She’s as hated as Hillary Clinton used to be. Now they clai
m to just love Hillary. That’s the way Washington goes. Bunch of hypocrites and panderers like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Max looked at Allison. “What are Clyburn and his group demanding?”

  “That the president produces the child. They want to see Little Walt. Then, he said, to my astonishment, they can judge for themselves if that baby is the president’s or Roman Wilkes.”

  “What?” LaLa said, to her own astonishment. “These people are off their rocker. How in the heck are they going to look at some baby and determine whose the father? How in the world are they going to be able to do that?”

  “He’s just trying to be provocative,” Allison said. “Trying to score political points just like Max said.” Then she looked at Max. “But he does have a point. The president produces the child, then at least they won’t be going on and on about ever seeing any photos.”

  “I’m all for it,” Max said. “You know I am. It’s Dutch and Gina who says no.”

  “So what are we going to do?” Allison asked. “Convene a come to Jesus meeting?”

  Max exhaled. “Do I hear an amen?” he said with little enthusiasm. Mainly because he knew getting Dutch and Gina to see a different point of view on the subject of their child was probably going to take a miracle.

  “Are you going to call them tonight?” Allison wondered.

  “No,” Max said. “Tomorrow morning.”

  “But tomorrow’s Saturday,” LaLa said. “I thought the president was going to take Saturday off for a change. To spend some time with Gina.”

  “He can take it off. But not until after we meet. Besides, that wife of his got him into this mess,” Max added, with a twinge of bitterness in his voice, “she’s the one who should be inconvenienced.”

  LaLa and Christian exchanged glances.

  And Allison, because of comments just like this one, sometimes found herself wondering whose side was Max really on.

  FIVE

  Dutch lay in bed on his side and watched his wife as she slept. He was in the second year of his second term and it had been a long, hard slog. She put on a brave front, he knew she did, and was as determined as he was to see his term in office through, but that didn’t stop either one of them from wanting to just stop this crazy town, and get off.

  He smiled. Grabbed one of her African braids and twisted it around his finger. Thought about all of the negative mail and press she received and wondered how in the world could anybody not like Regina Harber? She was feisty. Yes, she had more fight in her finger than most men had in their entire bodies. But she was no bully. She only gave as good as she got. But they seemed to hate her because she never let them get away with their b.s.; because she never let them disrespect her.

  He reached over and pulled her naked body into his arms. He was glad she fought back. He was glad she called them out. He was glad she did everything in her power to remain true to the same person she was when he first met her nearly a dozen years ago, when she was a twenty-five year old bright-eyed kid, and she allowed him to make love to her so tenderly.

  And now, when she opened those bright eyes and looked up at him, a feeling of happiness surged through his body.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.”

  Gina smiled when she saw Dutch’s face; when she felt his warm embrace. “Good morning yourself. I usually wake up and you’re off to the races.”

  “Or inside of you,” Dutch said, kissing her on the neck.

  Gina laughed and rubbed her thighs against each other, remembering how his rob always felt between her legs. “That too,” she said as she turned her back to Dutch’s front and looked over at the TV monitor of the Nursery, saw that Little Walt was still asleep. And that Nurse Riley was on the job.

  “I already went in and took a peep at him,” Dutch said. “He’s fine.” He wrapped her into a big bear hug, one hand caressing her breast.

  “LaLa seems to think you spoil him,” Gina said, her head leaned back as she enjoyed the way he fondled her.

  “She thinks she’ll handle her newborn son any differently?” Dutch asked.

  “Of course not! She’ll be all over that child if it was hers, hovering day and night like some nervous mother hen.”

  Dutch smiled. “That’s LaLa.”

  “For real though.” Then Gina thought for a second, remembered what LaLa kept reminding her to ask him about. “So,” she said, attempting to pivot, “now that Speaker Brightman has come out against immigration reform and says he won’t be attending the White House conference, what’s the game plan?”

  “Don’t believe a word that comes out of Brightman’s mouth. He’ll be there. It may take some serious arm twisting, but he’ll be there.”

  “And you think Crader McKenzie can twist those arms?”

  “I know he can,” Dutch said as he slid his hand between her legs, outwardly massaged her, and then drove one and then two fingers inside of her. He closed his eyes as he began to feel her wetness.

  Gina closed hers too. “What’s Crader’s story anyway?” she barely managed to ask. “I know he served in the Senate with you, but is he married?”

  Dutch opened his eyes and looked at Gina. “Why would you want to know that?”

  Gina inwardly smiled at Dutch’s jealousy. Decided to run with it. “He is a very attractive man, now, Dutch, you have to give him that. Some would even say he’s better looking than you.”

  Dutch rammed his finger further into her with a purposeful pinch that made her laugh. “I don’t want him, okay? LaLa wants to know.”

  “LaLa? Really?” I thought she preferred the brothers.”

  “She does. But she claims when she saw Crader on TV last week something clicked. So she’s just curious. Knowing LaLa, she won’t even take it any further than curiosity.”

  “You have a point,” Dutch said. “She’s turned down every man we’ve tried to introduce her to.”

  “And Christian’s interested, too, but she thinks he’s too young.”

  “He is.”

  “He is not, Dutch! What does his age have to do with it?”

  Dutch smiled. “Just kidding,” he said, feeling particularly playful this peaceful Saturday morning. And they just laid there, as Dutch’s deep penetrating caresses began to cause Gina to saturate his fingers with her love.

  But she couldn’t get LaLa out of her mind. She just didn’t want to see her hurt again. “You think Crader would be interested in a woman like LaLa?” she asked her husband.

  Dutch closed his eyes again, enjoying the feel of his erected penis jutting against her as he continued caressing her. “I rather doubt it,” he said, his lust becoming more intense as he could barely pay attention to the conversation.

  His response, however, surprised Gina. “Why would you say that, Dutch? What’s wrong with LaLa?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with LaLa. I just don’t think she’s his type.”

  “And what is his type?”

  Dutch opened his eyes, relaxed his fingers. “Oh, Gina.”

  “Tell me, Dutch. Why don’t you think LaLa is Crader’s type?”

  “To put it bluntly,” Dutch said, although he really didn’t want to be discussing this, “she may not be pretty enough for Crader’s taste.”

  Gina took exception to this. “LaLa’s cute, what are you talking about?”

  “I know she’s cute. I didn’t say she wasn’t cute. But based on the females I’ve seen on Crader’s arms, she doesn’t fit the bill.”

  “You mean he doesn’t date black women?”

  “I’ve seen him with black women before. He dates black women. But they were a different kind of woman than Loretta. They were first and last drop dead gorgeous. Period. No debate about it. Loretta’s pretty outside, even prettier inside, but I wouldn’t put her in the drop dead category. And from what I’ve seen, Crader McKenzie doesn’t get to know his women deep enough to care what’s inside. That outward package seems to be all he’s interested in.”

  This surprised Gina. “He’s that shallo
w?”

  Dutch shrugged. “He likes what he likes.”

  “You used to like blonde, blue-eyed women like Kate Marris, who looks nothing like me. But you begged, borrowed, and stole to have me.” Dutch laughed. “Why couldn’t your friend Crader be the same way?”

  “He may be. Look, Crader McKenzie is now and always has been a very private man. Even when we were in the Senate together I couldn’t say I particularly knew much of anything about his personal life. He would bring different women to different functions around town, and all of those women seemed to be of the same kind of look at me, I’m gorgeous variety, but that’s as far as my knowledge goes. I know next to nothing about what he really wants in a mate, besides those beauty queens he sports around town, so asking me if he can fall for a woman like Loretta is asking the wrong person.”

  “You make him your point person on immigration reform without doing a background check?”

  “He’s a former senator. Why would I need to background a former United States Senator?”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “No, you’re just hoping I would have checked him out. Not for the sake of national security, but for the sake of LaLa.” Gina grinned. “Naughty girl,” Dutch said as he laid her on her back, pulled out his thick penis, and slid it inside of her. “Now you’ve got to pay!”

  Gina at first laughed, but then screamed in delight when Dutch didn’t waste time and began a frenetic, sensual thrusting that caused her to hold onto the headboard to blunt the thrill as he rammed into her g-spot.

  And for Dutch it was just as thrilling. He was a man on a mission. He was a man determined to leave his mark, to make his woman forget she ever heard the name of Crader McKenzie, or any other man, besides his own.

  Only the thrill was so intense that it was Dutch who was screaming Gina’s name as he quickly came. He continued to pound, to give Gina her release, but before they could get to that point, the phone rang.

  At first Dutch thought to ignore it, but then he picked it up. It was Max. “This had better be good,” he said.

  “We need to meet. Now.”

  Dutch at first removed the phone from his ear, his heavy breathing not yet regulated, Gina still in a state of arousal beneath him, and then replaced it. “What about?” he asked his chief of staff.