by Jake Devlin
“Hmm,” Jake said. “That makes some sense.”
“And then the hierarchy can get people to give them stuff --”
“Like money.”
“-- like money, to feed their dependency needs.”
“Hmm. Or votes.”
As they got settled and started in on Jenny's brownies, Jake said, “You're not gonna repeat that fake orgasm thing for these, are you?”
“Oh, I never fake it with you, Jake. No, I promise. But these are really scrumptious.”
“They do sorta balance Ron off, don't they?”
“Oh, yeah; definitely worth a minute of jerkdom. Mmmmm.”
Jake and Pam both caught Jenny's eye and gave her okay and thumbs-up signs, as well as big smiles, parts of which had brownie bits covering a few teeth. Ron was squeaking at some stranger and didn't see.
A moment later, Pam said, “Jake, you promise you'll take the zombie stuff out, right?”
“Promise.”
-100-
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
1:53 p.m.
The White House
via a 24-hour news channel
“Additionally, I have ordered the FBI to detain all the bosses of the stagehands union and any other associated unions and bring them here to DC. They will be here shortly, I'm told, and I will be reading them the riot act and ensuring that the lights will be back on on Broadway tomorrow afternoon. They are in direct violation of Directives 27 and 33, the no-strike and no-encourage-to-strike directives. Okay. Yes?
“Alicia ____, ____. Mr. Donne, with your ban on outdoor smoking bans, are you not encouraging people to smoke and do harm to themselves and others with secondhand smoke?
“No, Alicia, I am not. What I am doing with that is removing oppressive and over-reaching behavioral control regulations by local and state regulators who seem to be overly power-hungry. What they can do and I would support is encourage people to quit when and if they want to, through education, information and persuasion, but not to bring the heavy hand of government down on their behavior and criminalizing it or subjecting it to civil penalties, such as fines.
“Let me parallel that with the abortion issue. If the churches want to prohibit their members from having abortions, I have no problem with that, nor with them evangelizing and trying to get people to convert to their point of view. However, again, their beliefs have no place in creating public policy for others who do not share their belief system.
“In fact, as of yesterday, I have ordered all jurisdictions that have fined anyone for outdoor smoking, ever, to refund whatever fines they have collected, and, in addition, to double that refund for the inconvenience and harm done to the victims of these petty little power-hungry bureaucrats.”
Donne looked at the camera directly. “So if you were ever fined or punished for smoking outdoors, you are entitled to a refund of double whatever you paid, no matter how it's characterized, be it as court costs, the fine itself or any other costs, including lost work time, bond fees, et cetera, et cetera. Okay. Yes?
“Alyssa _____, ___ --”
“Hold on a second, please. Alyssa?”
“Yes, Mr. Donne?”
“And Alicia?”
“Alicia, yes, Mr. Donne.”
“Are you related to each other?”
“No, Mr. Donne,” said Alyssa.
“No, sir,” said Alicia.
“Okay; just wanted to check on that. Go ahead, Alyssa.”
“Thank you, Mr. Donne.
“Alyssa, _____, ______. You have fired a lot of federal employees in the past three months. Do you expect to keep on doing that?”
“Absolutely, Alyssa. We are going through every department, every agency, every nook and cranny, and every day we find new pointless paper-pushing positions to eliminate. I would expect that you'll see about 150,000 job losses in those positions each month for the next several months. So people who are 4P'ers, in Pointless Paper-Pushing Positions, be prepared to get your pink slips.” Okay. Yes?”
“Robin ____, _____. Mr. Donne, we have only seen you either in the Oval Office or this room. Do you leave the White House at all?”
“Actually, Robin, no, I haven't left this building since I bought the country, for three main reasons.
“First, I've got an awful lot of work to do, and I'm sort of a happy workaholic, other than those previously scheduled state dinners that I have to do; luckily, I've only had to do two of them so far, and I plan to do only three more this year. I'm not big on ceremony and fake diplomacy, and foreign leaders are starting to get the message on that. I'm a brass tacks kind of guy, and I can get more done with ten minutes of heavy thinking and two direct phone calls than with twenty big get-togethers.
“B, I don't need a lot of entertainment and distraction, and I don't need a lot of back-slapping, hand-shaking, Mr. Happy kind of stuff, and I think the people are comfortable with me looking out for them from right here.
“And 3, my security people, including the Secret Service, tell me that, although the people in general are genuinely supportive of my policies, the power guys that have been displaced or disgraced are still pretty pissed off at me for pulling the rug out from under their dirty greedy games, so many of them are apparently gunning for me, figuratively and literally, and my people have strongly suggested that I stay here to make it easier for them to do their job of protecting me. And for the time being, I will defer to their judgment.
“By the way, all these assassination plots are pretty stupid, since even if I die, my policies and directives live on. I've got a good team behind me, ready to take over and make sure they continue to be implemented. So the usual rational reasons for assassination, stopping something from happening or getting a block to something happening out of the way, won't apply. Irrational reasons, like revenge, of course --”
Donne paused, pressed his ear and appeared to be listening to something possibly coming through an invisible earpiece.
“Okay. Time for one more. Yes?”
“Susan ____, _____. Mr. Donne, are you an atheist?”
“Susan, I have no problem with you or anybody asking that question, but it is one that I will not answer. My religious beliefs, if I have any, are my personal business, and whatever they may be, they have absolutely nothing to do with how I set public policy. That would be pretty hypocritical of me if they did, wouldn't it, now?
“Okay, gang, that's it for today. I've got to go get the lights on Broadway shining again. Thanks for coming, all.”
The news channel returned to the talking heads as Donne left the press room.
When Donne passed Emily's desk on his way to the Oval Office, he said, “Could you get John Kelly over at Treasury and Al Johnson at the Fed on the phone for me, Em?”
“Sure, Gordy.”
“And when those Broadway union guys get here, have the FBI hold them in the vans outside for a good couple of hours and then bring them in.”
“Will do, Gordy.”
“Thanks, doll.”
“C'mon, Gordy.”
“Okay, okay. Mom.”
“Be careful or I'll sneak some tofu into your cheeseburgers.”
“Yes, Mom.”
He headed on into the Oval Office, chuckling, leaving Emily also chuckling.
-101-
Two Months Earlier
Saturday, December 17, 2011
5:27 p.m.
Bonita Springs, Florida
”Great party, Marti.”
“Thanks, Pam. And thanks for bringing the deviled eggs; they're delicious. Never had 'em with peanut butter mixed in before. And thanks for pronouncing my name right; most people say it like it ends in a Y.”
“Jake told me about that and coached me. But if I screw it up, please accept my apology in advance.”
“No problem. I'm just glad you were able to make it and I was able to meet you at last. Jake wasn't sure about your schedule.”
“I got it cleared; this seemed important to him. And I'm glad I was able t
o make it, too. It's nice to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you and Captain Dave. He's really a native Floridian?”
“Yup, born and raised in Fort Myers, just up the road.”
“And he does fishing charters?”
“Yup. Best native guide around, but I'm a little biased.”
“Hey, Marti, the first boat's coming!”
“On our way, Dave,” Marti replied, as she and Pam finished filling their plates and headed out to the deck, where the whole gang was gathered at the railing, watching the first decorated boat heading up the Imperial River, a Santa and six elves waving to the shore, with “Jingle Bells” playing over a loudspeaker.
“Cool,” Pam said, as the gang on the deck waved and hollered back at the boat. “Ringside seats.”
“Yup,” Marti said and nodded. Then she looked over at Jake, who was sitting with an older man at a table, and whispered to Pam, “I think you two make a great couple.”
“Thanks, Marti; I do, too,” Pam whispered back.
“Hey, girls, no whispering,” the man with Jake said, slurring his words slightly. “Come on over and join us.”
“Oh, Paul, behave yourself,” a woman's voice came from behind Marti and Pam.
“You, too, Gayle; come on over and join us. Jake's gonna put us in his book.”
“You two go ahead; I've gotta play hostess,” Marti said. “Hey, Jake, you doin' okay on your limeade?”
“Just fine, Marti; thanks.”
Jake got up and pulled out a chair for Pam; Gayle sat down next to Paul.
“So, Jake, what's this about?”
“He's gonna put us in his book.”
“I'm asking Jake.”
“Just your first names; I'm putting friends' names in the book when I can, rather than just making 'em up. And I've got just the scene in mind for you two.”
“Go on, tell her, Jake. Gayle, you're gonna love this.”
“Okay. It's Donne's first press conference, and there's this 40-ish family, three kids, driving to the beach, Bonita Beach, and the dad has his tablet, 'cause he wants to watch it. And that's how it leads into the press conference. I made up some names for the parents, but if you two are okay with it, I can swap those out easily and stick yours in.”
“I'm fine with that, Gayle. What d'ya say?”
Gayle thought for a while, then said, “Oh, what the heck? Okay by me.”
“Cool,” Jake said. “Let me make a note, so I don't forget.”
“Jake, you never forget anything,” Marti said, as she brought a platter of chicken wings, a shrimp ring, a plate of Pam's deviled eggs and a big bowl of meat balls and her homemade sauce to the table.
“Sorry,” said Jake, looking up at Marti, “what's your name again, waitress? And could we get some more of that great tofu casserole the chef made? Thanks.” He turned to Paul. “So, Paul, when you --”
“Oh, Jake,” Marti said, laughing, as she slapped him lightly on the shoulder and he smiled back at her. Pam chuckled.
“So, Jake, how's the book coming?” Gayle asked. “Still coming out this month?”
“Nope,” Jake said. “I ran into a snag with some assho- – excuse me – some idiot lawyers.”
“What happened?” Paul asked.
“I got a letter in October claiming I was using a trademark without permission and to cease and desist. So I had to do a bunch of research on that, and figured I'd lose if I fought it. So I went back and took out all the references that used brand names, and that ticked me off and slowed me down a lot.
“And then I got another one in early November from another lawyer who said I couldn't use fat, gay Representative from Massachusetts' name with his masseur, so I had to change that to 'fat, gay Representative from Massachusetts,' and that only added to my anger and the delay.”
“Lawyers can be such assholes,” Paul said angrily. “I had to deal with whole gangs of 'em before I sold the agency, and even afterwards. I remember one time --”
“So, Pam,” Gayle cut in, “how did you and Jake meet?” Pam and Jake glanced at each other and chuckled. Marti joined in.
“Did I say something funny?” Gayle asked perplexedly.
“No, no, Gayle,” Pam said. “It's just – just --”
“You wouldn't believe it,” Marti said. “I didn't when Jake told me.”
Pam looked at Jake and said, “Go ahead, Jake. You tell it.”
“You sure, Pam?” Pam nodded and smiled. “Okay.
“Well, there was this big gorilla head that popped out of the Gulf while Pam was interrogating me --”
“Wait. What?” Paul mumbled.
Marti cut in. “You remember. I sent you the link to the stories in the paper last summer. Remember?”
“Oh, that was YOU?” Gayle exclaimed. “YOU'RE the Secret Service agent?”
“Was,” said Pam. “I've retired.”
“I thought you looked familiar,” Paul said. “We saw some videos online. You know you've got over a million hits?”
Pam and Jake exchanged another glance and giggled.
“No, not that kind of videos,” Gayle said. “The ones with the bullets flying and people screaming.”
“Now, THAT's a story,” Paul said. “You guys oughta write that one up.”
“Maybe once I get the Donne one done,” Jake said.
“Hey, Jake, I was in advertising; I know what I'm talking about,” Paul pressed. “That's a story I could sell easy. Think about it.”
“Okay,” Jake said, “I will, Paul.”
“What do you think, Pam?” Paul continued.
“I'd have some concerns, Paul,” she answered, blushing slightly. “I'm not sure the Service would be too happy. But I'll think about it, too, and we'll talk it over. Okay, Jake?”
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
“You do that, guys,” Paul said, “and let me know. I could help a lot with that.” He took another deviled egg and popped it in in one piece, rolled his eyes in delight.
“I think that's a great idea,” Marti added.
“So do I,” Captain Dave added, having heard the tail end of the conversation.
“Okay, okay; we'll think about it. Promise,” Jake said.
“Marti, these eggs are great. Can you give Gayle the recipe?”
“Not mine, Paul. Pam brought 'em.”
“Not only stunning, but a good cook. Great.” Pam blushed.
Jake asked, “Oh, Paul, where was your agency? I've forgotten.”
“Philly.”
“Right, right. I'll move it to, uh, maybe Chicago for the book, okay?”
“Works for me. Okay with you, Cakes?”
“Fine,” Gayle replied.
“Cakes?” Jake asked, looking up from his notebook.
“Pet name,” Paul replied. Gayle blushed. Jake made a note.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Jake said, “Another thing that held me up was that things keep coming up that I want to stick in there, like the Super Committee's announcement last month.”
“What Super Committee?” Gayle asked.
“The one that got set up by Congress last August, to come up with a bipartisan plan for deficit reduction by November 23rd. They made an announcement that they couldn't come up with anything on the 21st, and nothing came of that, other than more crappy political grandstanding.”
“As usual,” Paul grunted. “Idiots.” Another few moments of silence followed.
“Hey, maybe you guys can help me with something,” Jake said. “I'm thinking of having my guy suggest moving the government from Washington to some small town somewhere, and I was thinking of Bonita. Any other ideas? Anybody?”
“Hmm,” Gayle said, “we just got back from a trip to Oklahoma to see Ray, our grandson; he's a bull rider, competes all over. Maybe – Paul, what was the name of that place with the great diner?”
“Ahhhmmm, Lenox?”
“No, no, that was the name of the diner.”
“Best hamburger I ever had.”
�
��And the cherry limeade was delish, too,” Gayle continued. “But what was the name of the town?”
“Oh, wait. Ahhh, Valentine?”
“No, Paul; that was something about the type of building, I think.”
“Ah, Enid,” Paul said, snapping his fingers.
“That's it; Enid, Oklahoma.”
“Great burgers.”
“You said that, Paul.”
“Hey, Jake, Ray told us one about the two cowboys sitting around the campfire after their first day working together. Heard it?”
“Oh, no, Paul; don't tell that one.”
“Aw, Cakes, it's funny.”
“It may be, but I've heard it so many --”
“Nope, haven't heard it,” Jake said. “Pam?”
“New to me.”
“Okay, so they're talking about all kinds of stuff, sports, politics, nothing about art or religion, and finally they get talking about sex. And one says, 'I just like the missionary position.' And the other guy says, 'Nah, boring. I like the rodeo position.' 'Rodeo position? What's that?'
“'Well, ya git both of ya buck nekkid, git 'er down on the bed or floor on all fours, get in from behind and then reach around and grab her tits and say, 'Wow, these feel jus' like your sister's,' and see if you can hang on for eight seconds.'” Paul laughed loudly, Jake and Pam joined in, more quietly, Marti chuckled and Gayle blushed.
“I'm driving us home, Paul. You're drunk.”
“Naw, Cakes, I'm fine.”
“I've got the keys. I'm driving.”
As Paul and Gayle continued their discussion, Pam leaned over and whispered to Jake, “Let's try that tonight.”
Jake paused for a beat, smiled and whispered back, “What? Sit around a campfire and talk?”
Pam slapped him lightly on the forearm and said, “Oh, Jake,” and laughed.
“Gotcha.”
“Nope, that doesn't count.”
“What'd I miss?” Paul asked.
“Nothing, Paul, nothing,” Jake said. “Hey, that's a pretty cool boat,” and they all turned to watch the rest of the parade, emptying their plates of Marti's delicious home-cooked cuisine and Pam's eggs.
