Regrets Only

by Sally Quinn

  “But I digress. I guess I don’t want to tell you this, but I must. And you must know it.

  “As you may have noticed if you read my columns, I have alluded to some oil deals off the coast of Louisiana. I never came out and said anything specific because I didn’t want to hurt Rosey. However, now I can tell you what I know.

  “For the past several years I have been involved in a high-stakes weekly poker game in Atlanta. And when I say high stakes, I mean high stakes. These boys don’t fool around. Most of them are big-time businessmen, deal makers. One of them is in oil. I know, I know, you and Mama and Daddy have always warned me about my gambling, but I can’t control it. Never have been able to. As you may be able to guess, I used stock in my newspaper as collateral, and yes, I lost a lot. Every time I kept hoping I would win big and be able to get back in the black. As they owned more and more of me, they wanted more say in the editorial position of the paper, hence the rough columns about Rosey and the Administration. To call them conservative would be an understatement. They think Rosey is a Communist. Everett Dubois started coming down hard on me, as well he should have. But I gave him no quarter. I had no choice. Then, through my ‘friend’ in oil I discovered some unsavory dealings on Everett’s part.

  “According to my source, your husband’s special assistant Everett Dubois has a secret deal with the Rittman Oil offshore-drilling company. He was to get the Omanis to accept Rittman’s bid for offshore drilling off their own coast in return for a kickback. My source hears, but cannot prove, that Everett was personally involved with the Omanis and was making personal demands of them as well as the Rittman people, trying to double-deal them both. Apparently the Omanis balked and eventually chose a British company, Marble Arch, even though they didn’t come up with as good a bid. It appears that Everett is trying to punish the Omanis by convincing your husband that they should not be given military aid and other help that they have counted on from the United States. Rosey doesn’t know any of this, but it could all explode in his face. That’s when I began alluding to Everett in the column. Everett didn’t know how much I knew. He called me several times to get me to lay off, naturally denying everything.

  “When I refused, Everett put a private detective on me, and he hit pay dirt. He found out about my gambling and also that my paper was in fact not my paper but that it belonged to this right-wing crowd who appeared to be dictating their anti-Administration editorial views to me. He threatened to expose me if I didn’t stop writing about him. As you can imagine, Everett’s concern was not really about the President. He just wanted to save his own ass.

  “Darling Sadie. I knew all this when I came up to Washington for the dinner, and I almost told you several times. I knew then that it would only be a matter of time before you found out. At any rate, I wanted to tell you before that bastard Everett did. And I also want you and Rosey to know that I have signed over the paper to my poker companions. It became clear to me that they were allowing me to hang on to it and run it simply to attack Rosey with more credibility, and that I could not countenance.

  “I know you will think I’m weak, maybe contemptible. But you must believe one thing. You are the dearest thing in the world to me. Please forgive me. That is all I ask. I know Rosey will never understand, but I ask his forgiveness as well. And do what you must do for your own happiness. There is so little of it. You deserve it more than anyone I know. I love you.

  “Your brother, Outland.”

  As Sadie read the letter over, she wept. This time she was sitting in her office with Des, and when she finished it she handed it to him, her head in her hands, while she waited for him to read it.

  “Holy Mary, Mother of God,” he said slowly as he came to the end. “I don’t believe it. When did you get this letter? Has Rosey seen it?”

  “Yesterday. And yes, I showed it to Rosey. He’s the only one who knows what happened.”

  “Well, what did he say?”

  She sighed. “He read it, flung it down, muttered something about Everett, and walked out. Later he came back. He said he had called Everett and Everett had hit the roof. Denied everything. He said it was preposterous, and as for the gambling thing, everybody in Georgia knew about it and there was no point in trying to blackmail somebody about something like that. He said Everett told him he called Outland a number of times about his columns, just as any loyal member of the staff would do. He was only trying to protect the President, and Outland resented it and said he was going to get Everett…. He said Outland had no concrete proof and it sounded like sour grapes. Rosey believes Everett.”

  Des came over to the sofa and sat down next to her.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on him. He is my brother and he was crying out for help and I just didn’t see it. How could I have been so stupid? I failed him. He has been changing, withdrawing, and I never noticed any of the signs. I was too preoccupied with my own problems, with my own life, to see it. I wonder if Outland’s right. He always tells me I’m a Pollyanna. He laughs at me for my dreams. I’ve always thought he was cynical. But maybe he isn’t wrong. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” said Des. “Outland is a troubled guy. He has his own demons he can’t live with.”

  “Well, I can certainly blame Everett. He ruined my brother. I’ll get him if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Do you mind if I look into this?” he said.

  “Oh, Des, you can’t. I don’t want anyone to hurt Outland any more, or his family. Please, promise me you won’t.”

  “Calm down, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m not talking about the gambling. I’m talking about the Rittman oil deal and Everett. If this story is true, it is a real scandal. I always knew that little fucker was crooked. You can see it in his face.”

  “But that will hurt Rosey. Oh, Des, please. I knew I shouldn’t have shown you that letter.”

  “Listen, Sadie, I would never do anything with this if you told me not to. But don’t you see this will be much more hurtful to Rosey if it is allowed to fester and grow? If the Rittman people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time. And if the Omanis are getting screwed, you can bet they won’t waste any time leaking it to the press. It has tremendous international ramifications. If I can just check some of it out and use it in The Weekly, maybe it will get Rosey to realize he’s got a problem on his hands and deal with it before it gets out of control.”

  “Well, maybe you’re right.” She was hesitant. “One thing is for sure. Rosey will never guess where the leak came from.”

  * * *

  The following Monday, Des couldn’t make it. He was in Louisiana with a Weekly reporter. Sadie went to her office and tried to write. Finally, she called Jenny, who was over in her West Wing office, and begged her to come join her for tea. Jenny arrived looking a bit nervous and irritated.

  “I’m beginning to get questions on your writing,” she said. “People want to know what it is, whether it will be published, who are you writing for—all that kind of thing. I’m trying to be vague, but the vaguer you are the more they get suspicious. Pretty soon you’re going to have them camping on your doorstep. So you better start thinking of something. I can’t keep them at bay forever.”

  “What if I published something?”

  “You’re kidding! You mean you’re actually writing?”

  “Oh, go screw yourself, Jenny,” she said. “Of course I am. What do you think I do over here when Des isn’t here?”

  “Think about Des.”

  “Well, I do some of that. But I do write. And Des thinks some of it’s all right. It started as a short story about a friend in Savannah, the one I told you about, who left her husband for the tennis pro. Now I think it may end up being a novel. Anyway, Des thinks part of it could be excerpted. He was thinking of submitting it for me to The Gotham.”

  “Do you mind if I see what he’s interested in having you publish?”

  “I guess it’s okay. He didn’t tell me not to sh
ow it to you.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Sadie, it’s me—your press secretary. I’m the only one who’s going to have to deal with this issue. I might as well know what we’re in for. Besides, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re letting Des run your life, tell you what to do. I thought you wanted to be your own person. That’s what you’re always complaining about. But you’ve just given yourself up to this man as though you were some kind of mindless doll.”

  “You’ve never talked to me like that before.” Her voice was very quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” said Jenny. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I’ve watched you turn into a lump of jelly in the past six months. Rather than take control, you’re giving up control. Frankly, I think that’s maybe what Des thinks he wants now, under these circumstances, particularly after Allison, but it’s not what he wants in the long run.”

  “Who said anything about the long run?”

  They looked at each other with surprise.

  “I mean, well, what kind of future could there be for us?” stammered Sadie. “I just can’t think in those terms.”

  “Well, I’ve got news for you. Des thinks in those terms.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Des thinks the two of you have got a future together. I don’t think he’s thought it out, but I think he sees you eventually leaving Rosey and going off with him.”

  Sadie wouldn’t look at Jenny. She was sitting behind her desk, which put a convenient barrier between them, as Jenny stalked up and down the floor waving her arms.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” said Jenny when Sadie didn’t answer.

  “Of course I’ve thought about it.”

  “And…?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I’m in love with him, more than I ever thought possible. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anybody in my life except for my own children.”

  “Too bad you’re not clear about how you feel.”

  “It doesn’t make any difference how I feel.”

  “I would think it would make everything very simple. You stick with Rosey until after he’s won the election and then you leave him for Des.”

  Her sarcastic tone annoyed Sadie.

  “Don’t even talk like that,” she said sharply.

  “Well, what in God’s name do you think will happen? Look, Sadie, I’m not exactly wild about that scenario. I lose a job. But if you keep on like this you’re bound to be found out. And I lose my job anyway.”

  Sadie couldn’t help laughing.

  “So this has become an unemployment problem.”

  “Sadie, all I’m saying is if you love Des as much as you say you do, you’re going to have to do something. You’ll either have to leave Rosey or give Des up. You have no other options.”

  “Jenny, you’re forgetting one minor problem. Desmond Shaw has not asked me to leave my husband and run off with him.”

  “He will… and when he does, what will you say?”

  “Jenny, you’re the only person I have to talk to and I need to talk to you about this and I know you see a lot of Des. I have got to ask you to promise me that you will not tell him what I say. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m terrified. I’ve suspected that Des wants to ask me to leave. I’ve always pretended it was a joke. He’s preparing me for the outside world by making me write and encouraging me. He obviously wants me to be able to work when we’re together on the outside. But I’ve never worked, except for that year in New York, and I was just biding my time until I found somebody suitable to marry, and besides, my parents were supporting me. I’ve always been Rosey’s wife. I don’t know how to work or to support myself, and it scares me. And Des doesn’t have any money. I’ve always had some money. If I left Rosey I wouldn’t get much alimony, and the children will be grown soon. And what if it didn’t work out? What if I leave Rosey and then Des decides he’s still in love with Allison and leaves me? Then where will I be? What if I can’t make a go of it and can’t support myself? Then I’ll be helpless. Des is in love with me, but I don’t know whether it’s me or who I am. He’s only known me since I’ve been the wife of the Vice President or the President. He thinks it’s glamorous and exciting that he’s having an affair under these circumstances, and he’s challenged by the idea that he could get a woman away from the President. A woman he really can’t have. But if he wins, if I leave Rosey to go to him, then where will be the glamour? Then he’ll be saddled with a helpless woman. I’ll have no power. I think Des would like to have a son. I’m almost forty. Do I want to start another family? If I did that, it would set me back even further, make me even more dependent. I know he says he likes the fact that I’m feminine, that I know how to please a man; but if that’s all I am, he’ll get bored after a while.”

  Jenny had stopped pacing and was now sitting in the armchair by the fire, listening quietly.

  “I guess you have given it some thought. And the thing that amazes me is that you’ve never let on any of this to Des.”

  “We haven’t really gotten to a point where we have to make a decision. I suspect you’re right, though. If I were to leave, and I simply can’t imagine it, it would probably have to be right after Rosey’s won. If he loses, it would make things simpler. But I don’t suppose he will lose, will he?”

  “Probably not, but you can’t count on anything these days. Let me just ask you a hypothetical question. Suppose you submitted your novel to a publisher and you got a huge advance and a contract on a movie deal. Would you feel different? What would you want to do then?”

  “If I thought I could be successful and not just earn a living but make a lot of money at it and be self-sufficient and have a real identity of my own?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’d leave Rosey in a minute—after the election.”

  * * *

  “Hey, gorgeous, am I glad to see you!”

  Des hadn’t even taken off his trench coat, but he ran into her office and scooped her up in his arms, squeezing the air out of her.

  He nuzzled her neck, pretended to bite it, then pulled back and looked at her, at the same time grabbing her behind in both his hands.

  “Sometimes I forget just what a fabulous piece of ass you really are.”

  “Oh, Des,” she said, barely able to breathe, “I’m so glad you’re back. God, I’ve missed you so.” And to her surprise her eyes welled up with tears.

  “Hey, baby, it’s not like I’ve been off at war.” Laughing, he reached over and wiped the tears off her cheeks with his cold hands.

  “Your hands are freezing,” she said, pulling back slightly. “Take your coat off and come over by the fire.”

  He threw off his coat and dropped it on the corner of a chair in a crumpled wad, then put his arm around her and walked her over to the fire with him. He looked down at her, kissing her nose, her forehead, her lips, then pulled her to him. They embraced—a long, fierce embrace.

  “You’re so beautiful I can’t stop looking at you, my lovely Adabelle Grey,” he said to her after a while.

  She was wearing black. Black pants and a black turtleneck sweater. No jewelry. Very little makeup. It was useless to wear makeup around Des anyway.

  “I’ve made martinis,” she said.

  “Not only is she beautiful but she knows how to take care of her man,” he said, kissing her again. He went to the bar and poured himself a martini.

  It was lunchtime, and he had brought sandwiches in his briefcase. They sat by the fire and ate. Outside it was sleeting and cold and gray. Inside was their private world, their warm, cozy cocoon.

  “So tell,” he said as he sipped his martini. “How did they take our story on the Rittman oil deal?”

  “I can’t tell. I asked Rosey, and all he said was that The Weekly didn’t really have much of a story.”

  “Shit, we had people at Rittman talking about the fact that they didn’t ge
t the contract and saying they thought somebody in the White House was out to screw them. We didn’t mention Everett’s name because we don’t have it hard enough. We can’t get anybody to nail him on the record. But you’d think Rosey…”

  “Rosey is extremely loyal. A person on his staff is innocent until proved guilty. And when you’ve got a clever liar like Everett saying it’s not true, what are you going to do? Everett is the most convincing liar I’ve ever seen, and Rosey can’t conceive of anybody actually lying to him. He has to believe him. He knows I dislike Everett, so what I say about him doesn’t carry much weight. He just clams up or says something insulting like ‘Some of the best minds in this Administration think you’re wrong.’ ”

  “How can you stand it?” he asked, losing interest in his story for a moment.

  “I can’t.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Anyway, Rosey thinks the Omani Ambassador is crying over their loss of aid and trying to pin the blame on somebody.”

  “That’s probably true.”

  “He didn’t spill it to you, I did.”

  “No, but I’m worried. Ali has been putting a big burn on Allison. She’s been seeing a lot of him lately, quietly. She’s bound to get onto the Everett story soon enough. And when she sees that I’m onto it, it will make her want to beat me. That does seem to be her goal in life.”

  He was too angry for someone who didn’t care anymore. It made Sadie afraid again. She decided not to pursue the subject. She didn’t want to have to deal with Allison now.

  “I wish I knew what was the right thing to do. I wonder if my telling you all this will hurt Rosey more than help him. I’m scared, Des. I would not forgive myself if I’ve betrayed my husband…” She paused and turned away from Des. “…this way.”

  “Baby, I would never do anything to hurt Rosey. For one thing, it would hurt you, and that would hurt us. If we can get enough into print to arouse suspicions about Everett, we can make him resign or get Rosey to fire him before this thing blows up into a big scandal and really causes problems. I just don’t understand why your husband is putting it off. He’s got to know the son-of-a-bitch is guilty. He better do it soon, though. Too many people are getting onto the story. Everybody smells blood.”