“I’ll wait outside,” Christian said, turning to leave.
“Stay right where you are,” Dutch ordered. Christian stopped in his tracks.
“I know you don’t want me here,” Brandy said, getting on with it. “I know you never dreamed I’d come. I never dreamed I’d come. You’re the last person I ever wanted to come to. But DeAndre needs help.”
Dutch, however, remained unmoved.
“They’re accusing him of a crime he didn’t commit,” Brandy continued. “He needs you to get those charges dropped against him.”
Christian wondered who in the world was she talking about. Who was DeAndre? But Dutch seemed to know.
“You know the stipulations,” Dutch finally replied.
“Yes, I know them.”
“You know you have a no-contact order in those stipulations.”
“I know that. But didn’t you hear me? DeAndre needs help.”
“You are in violation of the agreement,” Dutch said.
“But DeAndre is in trouble!” Brandy yelled. “They claim he robbed and killed a pregnant woman when he didn’t rob and kill anybody! He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they could send him to prison for the rest of his life. Or worse. He needs help!”
But if she was expecting tea and sympathy from Dutch, she was badly mistaken. “You are in violation---”
“I don’t give a damn about some violation!” She said this so angrily that Christian looked at her. Who did she think she was? Did she realize who she was talking that way to?
But Brandy kept talking that way to Dutch. “My brother is in trouble and you’ve got to help him, or I declare I’ll go to your wife. I’ll tell it all!”
Dutch just sat there, his face, it seemed to Christian, as cold as ice. “You’re threatening me?” Dutch asked her.
But Brandy was asking her own questions. “I’m telling you what’s happening. How can you act like it’s nothing? You’ve got to get those charges dropped!”
“I asked you a question,” Dutch said, reaffirming for Brandy why she could never respect him. “Are you threatening me?”
And his lack of empathy angered her. “Yes I’m threatening you!” she yelled. “I’ll go to your wife. I declare I will. She has a right to know. Or even better, I’ll go to the press. Let them see what kind of man you really are.”
“You do that,” Dutch said, standing to his feet. “Go to the press. And when that brother of yours is completely cut off, without a dime, see how much the press will assist him. See what they’ll think about his troubles.”
“He didn’t kill anybody!” Brandy yelled, standing too.
“Tell it to the press. See if they’re help his cause.”
“But he didn’t kill anybody!”
“Who gives a shit!” Dutch blared. “You think I forgot how you and that mother of yours came to me? It was straight-up extortion, lady. I haven’t forgotten that!”
“Then why did you make a deal with extortionists? Because you knew what it would do to your reputation if it went public. You knew, after Marcus Rance, you couldn’t take another embarrassment. It was all about you, not your wife. That’s why you did the deal. And that’s why you have to help my brother. You have to!”
“You are in violation of the agreement, Miss Clarke, and I suggest you get out of this building before I act on that violation.”
Brandy couldn’t believe it. She shook her head. “The world thinks you’re this wonderful family man. This great leader. This perfect gentleman. But I know better. You’re a ruthless, heartless, coldblooded sonafabitch!”
Dutch stared at her. The compassion Christian usually saw in his soft green eyes were gone. “Christian,” Dutch said.
Christian stood erect, as if he was standing at attention. “Yes, sir?”
“Get this piece of trash out of my building, and get her out now.”
Christian couldn’t believe Dutch would speak of somebody that way. He looked at Brandy, who didn’t seem surprised at all.
“Come with me, ma’am, please,” Christian said, taking her by the arm.
But Brandy jerked away from his grasp. She was still staring at Dutch. “I may be poor,” she said, “and trash in your eyes. But at least I don’t live my life in secrets and lies. At least I don’t live my life pretending to be some great person when I’m nothing but a snake in the grass!”
“Let’s go, ma’am,” Christian said. “You can’t talk to the president that way.”
“I’ll talk to him any way I gotdamn please! He don’t deserve any better! The way he treated my family, the way he treats my brother, I don’t give a fuck about who he is! I’ll talk to him anyway I gotdamn please!”
“Either you come with me,” Christian said, “or you go with the authorities.”
She knew the gig was up. She knew there was no changing the mind of a man like Dutch Harber. So she eventually left the office with Christian. She didn’t want to make it any worse than she knew she already had. He could terminate the agreement just as he said. He could ruin any chance her brother had of any future. But right now, her brother needed help. Right now she didn’t give a damn about any inheritance due him when he turned twenty-one. If she didn’t get him help now, he wasn’t going to be free at twenty-one to enjoy it anyway.
As Christian escorted her onto the elevator and they headed back downstairs, she was silent now. She knew what she had to do. It was the longest of long shots, but she had to go there.
Regina Harber, the president’s wife, was the only shot she had left.
Back upstairs, Dutch remained in Christian’s office, attempting to recover from the shock of her visit. It had been so long. He thought it was settled. Yet here she was, trying that same threatening to go public shit again. He thought about her mother, about that Carrie Clarke, and how she schemed and connived to get exactly what she wanted. He thought when he heard about her death a few months back, that would seal the deal of any more extortion attempts. But he’d forgotten about that stripper daughter of hers, and how she was just as bad as the mother.
Maybe worse.
Then he thought about the boy. He was what? Eighteen now? He was grown now, which was good. But it didn’t feel good to Dutch. It felt intrusive. It felt suffocating. It felt like yet another ghost rattling his grave.
He exhaled, walked around to Christian’s desk, and picked up the phone. He dialed his secretary’s extension.
“Jess?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Get my attorney on the phone and tell him to get to my office now.”
“Which attorney, sir? Business attorney Rogers, or Criminal attorney Bates?”
Dutch hesitated. “Bates,” he said, and hung up the phone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Mommy loves Walter,” Gina said to Little Walt as they sat on the private plane and waited for Dutch’s arrival.
“No,” Walt said. “Walter loves mommy.”
“And mommy loves Walter.”
Walt smiled as his mother tickled him.
They were sitting side by side, with Gina’s arms around the boy. And as usual, he was asking a ton of questions.
“Daddy’s coming too?” he asked.
“Yes, of course he’s coming. Daddy wouldn’t miss it. We’re waiting for him now.”
“He won’t be too busy?”
Gina hated that Dutch still had such a hectic schedule and hadn’t slowed down hardly at all since he resigned the presidency. But he also relocated his business to New Jersey so that he could come home to his family every night. That was a mammoth job in and of itself, and he still wasn’t completely settled. “No, son,” she replied, “he won’t be too busy.”
“He’s always busy.”
“That’s because he runs a major corporation. And they just moved the home office here, so he could spend more time with us. Things will slow down soon.”
But Walt still had more questions. “Why did Daddy stay away last night?”
Gina di
dn’t understand what he meant. “Stay away?” She didn’t recall Dutch going anywhere last night.
“From the movie,” Walt explained. “It was supposed to be our movie night and Daddy left and didn’t come back. You left too, but you came back.”
“Oh, sweetheart, Daddy didn’t mean anything by it! He loves you. You know he does. He was just so tired last night. He ended up falling asleep.”
“But it was movie night. Why did he get in the bed to fall asleep when it was movie night?”
Gina wanted to smile just thinking about why Dutch ended up in bed, and what exactly they were doing in that bed last night, but her child looked so serious. She pulled him closer. “He’d just gotten back into town, honey, and had just been on a long plane ride. He was tired. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but sometimes our bodies can’t keep going. He’ll make it up to you next week. He’ll be sure to be fully awake and watch both movies with you.”
“Can we watch Shrek again?”
Gina smiled. It was one of Walt’s favorite movies. “Yes, baby, we can watch it again.”
“And Daddy won’t be too busy?”
“Daddy won’t be too busy.”
“You promise?” Walt asked hopefully.
“I promise,” Gina said, and squeezed his nose, causing him to laugh.
They continued to laugh and talk for nearly half an hour longer, until Dutch’s motorcade finally drove onto the airstrip and Dutch and his entourage of aides, his assigned Secret Service agent, and his own security detail, all made their way onto the plane.
As soon as Dutch boarded, Walt jumped up and ran to his father. “You made it!” he said as Dutch hoisted him into his arms.
“Yes, I did. How about that?”
“Mommy said you would come.”
“Did she?” Dutch asked as he made his way to the master seats. He leaned down and kissed Gina, and then sat in the seat, with Walt on his lap, across from her.
“Now look who’s late,” Gina said with a smile. “We’ve been waiting ages.”
“Sorry about that,” Dutch said, smiling too, but he looked almost flustered to Gina.
“You’re okay?” she asked him.
“I’m good,” he said, although his eyes said differently. “Glad to be getting away for a few days.”
“We’re going to see Nikki and Uncle Crader and Auntie LaLa,” Walt said.
“That’s right,” Dutch said, kissing his son as he held him like a baby in his arms. “Looking forward to it, Champ?”
“Yes, thanks,” replied Walt. “Are you looking forward to it, Champ?”
Gina smiled. Dutch nodded. “I most certainly am.”
“Are they happy again?” Walt asked.
Gina and Dutch glanced at each other. Then they looked at Walt. “What do you mean, baby?” Gina asked him. “Is who happy again?”
“Uncle and Auntie. They were mad, I mean angry at each other all the time. Something Uncle Crader did, I think.”
Dutch couldn’t believe it. How in the world did he know about that? Gina, as if thinking the same thing, could only shake her head. Just the thought that even Little Walt would know that there had been plenty of trouble in LaLa and Crader’s paradise stunned them. Especially Dutch, who was still reeling from the trouble that came to his own paradise earlier today.
He looked at Walt. “Where’s Nanny?”
“In the other part of the plane.”
“Why don’t you go and spend some time with her while I speak with your mother, okay?”
“Okay,” Walt said, although it was obvious he would rather stay with his parents. But he dutifully got off of his father’s lap and made his way out of their cabin. Dutch stood at the door as his assistant escorted Walt to the opposite end of the plane where Nanny and the rest of their staffs, including the secret service, were sitting. He then closed the door of the private cabin and sat next to Gina.
“Can you believe he would know about that?” she asked him. “I don’t recall them having any arguments around the children.”
“Get a smart kid like Walter and it wouldn’t matter. They’re too perceptive.”
“For real,” Gina agreed. “You can’t put anything pass that little boy. He even questioned why you didn’t return to finish watching the movie last night.”
Dutch looked at her. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth. You were overtired so you went on to sleep. I failed to mention, however, my body’s role in tiring you so completely.”
Dutch smiled.
“But yeah,” Gina said. “He’s the inquisitive one.”
Dutch was gone again. Gina could sense something was bothering him. “What is it, honey?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Dutch smiled, very weakly this time. “It’s just that a lot is going on.”
“With the move?”
“Among other things, yes.” Then he placed her hand in his. “I’m just grateful to be getting away.”
Gina smiled. “Yes,” she said. “It’s needful and best.”
Dutch agreed. But as he floated back into his contemplative state, a state Gina knew he only got into when heavy duty issues were on his mind, she began to feel concerned. But she knew Dutch. He was not about to worry her with his issues unless he felt it necessary, and he expected her to understand that and never pressure him about it. It was the way he always handled those crisis situations he had to deal with on a daily basis when he was president, it was still the way he handled a crisis now. He placed his arm around her and pulled her against him. He wanted his wife happy and at peace. No matter what.
Loretta “LaLa” McKenzie, the First Lady of the United States, was unsettled in her kitchen. The chef was preparing a delicious dinner, and she was tasting the various sauces he had concocted, but she still wasn’t satisfied. Was it too simple a meal? Did she undershoot?
She looked at her husband when he walked into the kitchen. They were in Florida for the weekend, at their estate on Ruth Island, and they were loving the time away from crazy D.C..
“I have a question, Cray,” she said.
Crader McKenzie, the former vice president who stepped into the presidency when Dutch resigned, smiled. “Ask away,” he replied.
“You’re Dutch’s best friend. Do you think he’ll like the menu? I know Gina will. But will Dutch? It’s mostly soul food.”
“He’ll love it,” Crader said as he opened the door of the refrigerator and grabbed a beer.
“You don’t think it’s too simplistic? The menu I mean?”
Crader smiled. “Why are you acting as if you don’t know Dutch and Gina? You know them. You don’t have to put on any airs for them.”
“I know,” LaLa said. “We just haven’t had a chance to really get together since you became president, and I really want this to be special.”
Crader walked over to his wife, sat his bottle of beer on the center island, and turned her toward him. LaLa smiled. She was completely happy for the first time in a very long time. Crader, she felt, was a major reason why.
He kissed her on the lips. “Will you stop worrying?” he asked her. “It’ll all be fabulous. This is Dutch and Gina we’re talking about. They’re practically family. Soul food will be fine. Whatever Chef cooks will be fine.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Because you love them and want everything to be perfect. I get it. But I want you to relax. You’ve been doing your duties in Washington admirably. This is our weekend. Turn it off. Relax. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
LaLa smiled and kissed him. “Yes, sir,” she said. And he returned her affection. And soon, as was usually the case with Crader, their chaste kiss suddenly turned passionate, and he was doing her right where they stood: in the kitchen.
LaLa was feeling the heat, too, but she was concerned about exposure. “What if Chef comes back?” she asked.
“Bump Chef,” Crader said as he lifted her skirt, pulled down her panties, and began fingering her as he kissed her.
“Ouch, Cray,” she said painfully when his finger became too rough. He eased up, but he continued to massage her vagina. And they didn’t ease up with their passionate kissing.
They kept kissing, and he kept fingering her so decisively that he stopped kissing her up top, stooped down, and began kissing her below. She was leaned back against the center island as he placed her legs on each one of his shoulders, opening her wide, and began licking her and sucking her: mouth-fucking her hard. So hard that LaLa’s upper body was leaned back onto the center island, barely able to bear the way Crader was putting it on her. She tried to sit up, to force him to ease up, but that only made him even hungrier. He ate the shit out of her. He had her pussy red and raw, by the time he finished.
And he didn’t stop until she was on the verge of cumming. He then stood up, unzipped his pants, and put it in her with one hard thrust, taking her on over
She was sitting up by now, holding onto Crader, as he held her by the hips and fucked her long and hard. His eyes were closed, and he was enjoying the excitement of not only doing his wife, but doing her in their kitchen. He was going to make her cum twice. He hadn’t done his job, he felt, if she didn’t cum twice. She was still cumming the first time, but that was just the beginning for Crader and his appetite.
He continued to plow into her. His dick stung by the way he thrashed into her. But that was the only way, LaLa knew, that he was going to be able to cum. It had to be rough.
And Crader did her with tender love, but roughness too. He was the master of the mixture. He would go easy, turning her on, then harder than hard, turning himself on. Then he’d ease up again. By the time he had thrashed into her until she was cumming again, he was cumming himself. Unlike Dutch, whom in their bachelor days they used to have threesomes with some gorgeous babe, he couldn’t keep fucking after his release. Crader’s release was too intense, forcing him to pour out with one hard thrust and pour, until he had no strength left. He was almost popping veins in his neck as he strained out the last of his cum. He strained and he strained until there was nothing left. And then he looked at his wife.
For the Love of Gina: The President's Girlfriend Page 7
