“Long enough, but... well... let me explain. We were married right before I began my campaign, but we’ve known each other and been together almost constantly for more than ten years.”
“And you’ve never...”
Griff shook his head.
“But why?”
“It was an arranged marriage... with complications.”
Yvette looked at him amazed. “I would have never guessed. You are a highly publicized couple, and from what I have seen in the news, you seem to be very happy.”
“Nothing but show. Just for the camera, and the voters. I’ve never even touched my wife. I mean in that way. I’ve only just barely kissed her a few times.” Griff’s longing reflected softly in his eyes. “But if her sex is as good as her kisses, my god, what I’ve missed.”
Yvette smiled at him. “You have the look of love on your face.”
“Do I?” Griff asked. “I wish Lorelei thought so.”
“But surely she can see.”
Griff gave her a sad look. “I’m afraid she’s stopped looking. It’s not her fault. I’ve hurt her, and now she’s instinctively pulling away.”
Yvette pursed her lips thoughtfully. “How did this happen?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Very much.”
Griff rose from the couch and paced before the fireplace. “It was her father’s idea. Our marriage was arranged by him, and I had a lot of problems with it from the beginning. First of all...” He hesitated and looked at her. “For reasons of my own, I’ve always hated redheads. Second, I rebelled at the thought of being forced to marry anybody. At the time, I was even engaged to marry someone else.” After a few moments, he stopped pacing and turned to her and shrugged slightly. “I’m really not the womanizer everybody thinks I am. Oh, sure, I like women, but most of it was done out of rebellion against my situation. I blamed everything on her and wouldn’t touch her. That’s why I went to other women.
“So now, after all the damage is done, you find yourself in love, no?”
“I’m afraid so. It’s a mess, isn’t it?”
“When did you finally realize you were in love with her?”
“Who knows?” he said, relaxing against the fireplace. “All I know is, when she got involved with this... this man, I stopped denying how I felt. My god, it almost sent me into orbit. If I could have, I would have killed the guy.”
“Now that...” Yvette pointed her long cigarette holder at him. “That would be French.”
“Well, I haven’t gone that far yet, but I have been doing some pretty strange things to try and win her back.” He hesitated. “You’ll be hearing about some of them on the news.”
“Mmmm,” Yvette said, stroking her chin, thinking. “And how does she feel about you... I mean since you’ve been in office?”
“I never thought it would happen, but she hates me. Everything seems to be turned around.”
“And so all of this... the dress... this night of romance... this is how you are trying to win her back, oui?”
“Wee... uh, yes.”
“Well, if she loved you once, she can love you again. I have a feeling she never stopped loving you. She is just hurt. She has taken a lot from you and has stubbornly decided not to take anymore. It is as simple as that.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Ahhh, Yvette is never wrong, monsieur. But I must warn you, there is also a danger in it as well. She can actually will herself not to love you anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Monsieur, it is the way she protects herself from a broken heart. If she has been hurt badly enough, a natural shield will form around her heart, and she will turn away from you, depending on how strong-willed she is.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Well, I don’t know about men, but it is done all the time by women who have been treated badly by their men. If the hurt goes deeply enough, that is all it takes.”
“It seems kind of drastic.”
“Not at all. It is a mindset. Like going on a diet or refusing to eat things that are bad for you. If you do anything long enough, it becomes a habit. Then when you go back to fatty foods, the fat in them is intolerable.” Yvette looked at him. “I’m sure you don’t want her to feel that way. To find you... intolerable?”
Griff remembered the night Lorelei had said a final goodbye to him from the door of his bedroom. She hadn’t acted the same since. Then, at the Embassy Suites, he had asked her if she loved her husband.
I did, she had said. I did... I did... I did! Not I do, but I did!
The words echoed over and over in his head as the Madame was still talking.
“I don’t know what the psychological term for it is, or if the woman is aware she is doing it, but it can happen. It is like denial. She feels you are bad for her, so to protect herself, she simply refuses to love you.”
Griff looked at her with a furrowed brow. “My god, Yvette. I can’t let that happen.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure it has not gone that far. Now, I assume because of your history, the two of you do not have a special song or a special place?”
“No. I’m afraid we missed all of that.”
Yvette looked at him thoughtfully, then spoke. “I am going to tell you to do something. You will think it rather drastic, but I can guarantee you that if you do everything I say, you will wake up in the morning with your wife in your arms. But I must warn you. If this has already gone too far, nothing will help you win her back.”
Griff rushed over to his desk and buzzed his secretary. He told her to cancel the rest of his appointments, and Yvette and Griff spent the rest of the morning in conference. The subject—his evening with Lorelei.
* * * *
The Private Residence—
Lorelei was able to sleep in the morning before their date, since Griff had assumed his presidential responsibilities again, and it felt wonderful. She buzzed for coffee, and as she sat, brushing her hair, she had no harder decision to make than how long her bubble bath would be or what color she would put on her nails. She heard a knock at the door and looked up.
“Come in.”
Tula walked in with a steaming pot of coffee, croissants, and fruit. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to get up this morning.”
“Oh, it was wonderful to sleep in, Tula. And believe me, I needed it.” As she drank her coffee, she watched Tula make the bed. “By the way, what’s on the agenda this morning?”
“Nothing for you, but the president has been in conference all morning.”
“Oh? Who with? Regis Strand, I’ll bet.”
“No, some dark-haired woman.”
Lorelei looked up, and frowned. “A dark-haired woman? What about?”
“I don’t know, the door to the Oval Office has been closed all morning.”
Lorelei slammed her cup down. It looked as if Griff was at it again. No wonder he wanted to come out of retirement. She thought about the big display he’d put on at the Embassy Suites, and the way he was so lovey-dovey with her the evening before.
What is he up to?
She immediately dressed and made her way to the administrative wing. When she was only a few yards away from the Oval Office, she saw the door open and ducked into a shadowed corner. When she got a good look at the mysterious woman, her eyes widened.
My God, it’s Madame Jacqueme, my couturier. What in the world would she be doing in conference with Griff?
“Call me,” the French beauty purred when she left his office. “I want to know everything.” Her deep, guttural accent sounded unusually sensuous.
“You can count on it,” Griff replied. “And Yvette—”
“Yvette?” Lorelei breathed.
“Thank you.”
“Ahhh, think nothing of it, my pet.”
“I feel so much better.”
“I’ll just bet you do, you skirt-chasing bastard,” she said under her breath.
When Griff went back into his office, Lorelei walked as leisurely as she could up to his secretary’s desk. “Hi, Betty.” She smiled. “How’re things going today?”
“Not bad. Enjoying your rest?”
“Very much. Has Griff been busy?”
“Well, he had a lot on his plate this morning, but cancelled it all when Madame Jacqueme came in. Since he spent the entire morning with her, he’ll probably try to catch up this afternoon.”
Lorelei’s fury climbed, making her tremble. Just then Griff opened the door and his eyes softened when he saw her. “Well, hello, sweetheart.”
Faker, she thought.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” she managed to get out.
“I wish I could spend some time with you, but I’ve got a pretty full schedule this afternoon. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I have to go,” she said with a stony look.
* * * *
Griff leaned down to give her a kiss, but she avoided his lips and pulled away from him. A twinge of worry settled in Griff’s stomach when she purposely avoided him. He watched her walk away, but then decided he couldn’t let this wait. “Lorelei, what is it?” he asked, grabbing her arm and turning her around. “What have I done now? I don’t even know.”
She looked up at him with cold eyes. “Our evening is off.”
“Lorelei, don’t do this. I don’t care what you’ve got against me. You promised me this evening, and I’m going to have it.”
“I’ve got other things to do,” she said defiantly, then turned her back on him.
“What, for god’s sake? What could be more important than spending a romantic evening with your husband?”
“Husband?” she yelled and whirled around. “Husband, you say?” She tapped her chest with her finger. “I don’t have a husband, you bastard. A husband means a home, children, dinner at six, a visit to the in-laws on Sunday, baseball games, carpools, and ballet lessons. It doesn’t include Secret Service agents, a white prison with bars on the windows, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean a security system that would keep the devil himself out!” With that, she spun around and started walking.
“It does if your husband is the goddamned president!” Griff shouted, following her.
“Well I don’t want it anymore,” she spat. “I’m tired of velvet ropes, red rooms, gold rooms, and pictures of dead presidents. I want sex, birth control pills, morning sickness and a faithful mate.” Her voice became low and threatening. “I may not have any of that now, Griff Nyle, but you have my promise that someday I will. I want a tiny little breakfast nook built for two, not a dining room that requires an airline ticket to get from one end of it to the other. And I also promise you that when I sit in my little breakfast nook, and look across my tiny little breakfast table, I won’t see the smirking, smug, conceited face of Griff Nyle. Because if I do, I just might puke!”
“All right!” he shouted, grabbing her arm so she wouldn’t leave. “So the rest of our lives is in the toilet. But I’m talking about tonight, Lorelei. What do you have to do that’s so damned important?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She smiled sarcastically. “Being held for ransom, jumping off the roof, getting friendly with Jack the Ripper, chewing on tinfoil, being tarred and feathered. Anything’s better than being with you!”
“Lorelei, all I’m asking for is one more chance. If it doesn’t work out, I promise I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never have to worry about me bothering you again. Is it a deal?”
She turned toward him, and looked at him with fury. “All right, you hound, I’ll give you another chance, but it’ll be the last one you’ll ever have, so you’d better make it good.”
Lorelei jerked her arm out of his hand, turned and left. Her rapid pace, as she walked away from him, made him wonder what had set her off. He turned around and made his way back to his office. Approaching his secretary’s desk, he began questioning her. “Betty, what were you and Lorelei talking about when I came out of the office?”
“Nothing really. I asked her if she was enjoying her rest.”
“And?”
Betty shrugged. “She said yes.”
“Nothing else?”
“Well, I think we might have discussed you being in conference with Madam Jacqueme all morning. I told her you had cancelled all your meetings and had a pretty full afternoon.”
“What did she say to that?”
“She didn’t say anything, I don’t think. About that time, you came out.” She looked up at him puzzled. “Why?”
“Uh, it’s nothing. I just wondered.” Griff turned to go back in his office. He knew now why Lorelei was upset. He had been in his office all morning with a woman, and she assumed the worst. After their history together, he couldn’t blame her.
* * * *
Later that day, a package delivered to the White House was given a thorough going over by the White House Security Team. After it was examined and tested, it was put into Lorelei’s hands with smudged red stamps, the gift paper torn, and the box badly bent out of shape. She frowned down at it longing for the day she could receive a gift without it going through a hundred, big, ugly, rough, insensitive hands. Anxious to see what was inside, she laid it down on the bed and struggled with the wrapping. She couldn’t help but smile with anticipation. When she at last managed to get the box open and slowly pulled the tissue paper back, her hand flew to her mouth, and she almost lost her breath. Lying in the box was the most beautiful glittering gold dress she had ever seen, and when she picked up the card, tears gathered in her eyes.
There will be a full moon out
tonight, but Heaven with all
her beauty can’t begin to
compare with yours.
Griff
The dress and the sentiment was beautiful—but one thing bothered her. She knew Yvette’s handwriting. Was it her imagination, or did those rounded, womanly swirls belong to the madam?
This is the limit, she thought as she threw the card back down on the dress.
Now he’s getting his bimbos to run his errands for him.
Chapter Fourteen
The day was finally over, and Griff was working late in the Oval Office. The overhead lights were out, and a desk lamp spotlighted the remains of a sandwich he’d pushed away. He tried to work, but in frustration, threw his pen down and stretched lazily for several seconds. He leaned back in his chair, watched the purple shadows crowd against the ceiling, and knew that it wasn’t only his body that was tired, he was tired of everything—budget talks, peace talks, nuclear weapons, the Middle East, and the endless debate concerning the Microsoft monopoly.
He was tired of wondering why the panel of stiff-necked Republicans tied his hands on every issue, yet rushed to take credit if something good happened to slip through. He was tired of standing in a room of politicians and listening to them constantly bicker and pull him apart.
He abruptly turned on his swivel chair and looked out the window into the twilight. Yes, he was tired of the whole thing, but more than that, he was tired of seeing the ever-present guard shack with the tireless lifting and lowering of the arm that protected the visitor’s entrance. When would he ever be able to look out a window and see a normal neighborhood again? One with trees that needed pruning, bushes that needed trimming, and barbecues that needed cleaning. But more than anything, he wanted to see children playing—his children. He wanted to see Good Humor men handing out ice cream and tired, sweaty, wrinkled-up door-to-door salesmen trudging up the walk. He was much too young to remember them, but because the South is not a land that will let go of anything easily, he did remember one that was probably the last of a dying breed.
Griff settled back in his chair and stared out the window dreamily, thinking about the old man that used to come by his house carrying an old, mysterious suitcase he would n
ever forget. Worn and scratched up on one side, the other side had a series of little wooden rods that folded out, magically forming a sort of table the suitcase rested on. At every visit he would give Griff something from it. It was never more than a little trinket, but to Griff, it was more valuable than gold. Most of what he had in his suitcase were small items like wind-up toys, ointments, combs, brushes, men’s ties, and almost any kind of remedy you might need. He also sold shoes, home appliances, encyclopedias, men’s clothing, and even women’s sweaters. Of course, he didn’t carry those things around with him, but what he didn’t have, he could order. Mama would always look through his stuff and even buy something now and again, but for some reason Griff thought the old salesman enjoyed the cold glass of water and good conversation more than anything else.
Almost hating to let go of the memory, he slowly turned away from the window and snapped off his light. He rose from his chair, ignoring the purple shadows as they slowly slid down the walls and stretched over the entire room. Heading out of the executive suite, he began the long hike back to the private residence. Because he looked forward to beginning his evening with Lorelei, the elevators seemed to be too slow and the corridors too long. Everywhere he looked, someone wanted his opinion about something. He couldn’t seem to keep the irritation out of his voice when he was detained regarding some unimportant project, so he forced a smile, apologized with some limp excuse, and pulled himself away.
When he arrived at what he called home these days, he hurried to his bedroom and began stripping down and watching the clock. He sang in the shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth until they gleamed, and then looked closely at his face as if he were looking for zits. He combed his hair back, letting it fall in wet, shiny waves, then just before he left the bathroom, he slapped on his best and most expensive spicy cologne to mingle with his favorite scented soap. He turned to leave, stopped, snapped his fingers as if he had forgotten something, and turned back to the ridiculously large medicine cabinet and opened a small portion of the mirror where he found a bottle of blue, minty liquid. With nimble fingers, he opened it and upended the bottle as if he were taking a shot of whiskey. After he rinsed it around his mouth for a few seconds, he spat it out and looked at himself one last time, not forgetting to bare his teeth to check for the least imperfection. He hummed happily, content with the fact that his mouth smelled minty fresh, and then went into the bedroom to dress. He knew Lorelei would expect him to be wearing a suit and tie, so his lips turned up in a naughty grin as he slid the towel off like a male stripper and pulled on a robe without anything underneath. He continued to keep his eye on the clock then realized he had forgotten when he was supposed to pick her up. Was it seven or eight? Eight, he decided.
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